He blinks up at me. Doesn’t say anything. His face is a mask. I feel so out of my depth without his feelings pouring out through his expressions. At least he doesn’t look scared.
“Can I come in?” I ask hesitantly, breaking the silence.
He walks back to the couch, leaving the door open behind him. I guess that’s all I’m gonna get in the form of an invitation.
I slowly close it behind me, trying not to make any sudden movements.
He’s sitting on the couch, his legs folded under him.
I stand behind the armchair closest to the door. My hands are at my sides, completely visible.
He drags his hands over his face, avoiding my eyes. I want to look at those eyes so bad, their absence is a physical ache in my heart.
“I'm sorry,” he says into his hands.
I hear him clearly, but I don’t understand him.
When I don't respond, still processing, he looks up at me. Finally! But he looks guilty?
“Why are you sorry?” My voice cracks. I clear my throat.
His hand moves in gestures I have no hope of deciphering. He looks frustrated.
“For basically throwing myself at you and making you uncomfortable. For touching you.” He turns away from me.
Good, because the way my jaw drops to the floor can’t be an attractive sight.
“I forced you to kiss me, to sleep with me. Fuck, I fantasized about you for so long, running my hands through your hair and over your fucking forearms. I convinced myself you were interested in me, but you were just trying to do your job! God, I pushed you into all of it.” He looks disgusted.
I hurry over to the couch, overwhelmed by how distressed he looks.He doesn't flinch when I sit beside him.
“This is so embarrassing, and I’m so so—”
“Oliver,” I interrupt. “You did not— What are you even talking about?”
“That's why you're here, aren't you? I know everything.”
“Fuck, you know nothing if you think any of what we did was forced on me. What happened to you, the fact that you know everything, is all my fault. That's what I came here to tell you. That…that I’m going to disappear.” Why does my chest feel so heavy? There’s a sting behind my eyes. I swallow.
Oliver looks all confused and innocent, and all I want is to close the gap between us.
No, I’m not here for that! I stare at the coffee table and continue, “You won't ever have to see my face again. I can't promise you that you won't have to deal with the Bureau. If I did my job properly, you wouldn't have this massive secret putting you in danger. I came to apologize for destroying your life.” My cheeks feel wet.
Oliver grabs my face. “Knowing about the other part of your life doesn't destroy mine. What are you even talking about?” he demands, genuinely worried.
“I mean, you can't talk about this with anyone.”
“I can talk about this with you and Laura, and your friends. And Emily’s a werewolf, right?” I nod, his palms moving with me. “Well, then…that's people.”
“But your family—”
“Meena promised me nothing would happen to them unless I reveal the secret in some big way. Like going on a news channel and announcing it. And since I have no desire to look like a fool or do anything that would put yourlife in danger, I think we’re safe there.”
“But I putyouin danger. Dalton could have killed you. And you went to that shop…They probably stored bodies there,” I stammer.
He looks guilty. “Yeah, I shouldn’t have done that. But how is that your fault exactly?”
“I was responsible for keeping you safe!” I yell.
