"You can't do this right now?" He repeats and laughs rubbing his hands up and down his face. "When can you accommodate five minutes of your time to answer one fucking question, Muriel?"

He's speaking loudly, his voice bouncing all around this bedroom stilling me in the spot I feel caged against. His voice dripping with disgruntled sarcasm he pins me with his wide eyes, "It's an easy question Mur-."

"No, it's not!" I blurt out having enough of him bullying me like I was 12 again. "Either way I answer we can't go back. Either way I risk losing your family and I need them right now."

This sobers him slightly and he takes a step back allowing me space to breathe. "This has nothing to do- Murry, they love you. They'd never pick me over you, not in a million years. If anything they'd rather have you anyway. But that isn't important, you need to be honest with me. Fuck my feelings and fuck our parents' feelings."

I can not believe how selfish he's being right now. Does he not see how lost I am? His family is the only thing that is keeping me grounded. Fueled by sudden anger I shove his chest with my finger, "You're done pressuring me. When I feel like I want to acknowledge the feelings-."

"Hold on, hold on. When?"

"Wait, no. I-I, that's not - that didn't come out right." Panic fills my rushing veins and makes my stomach flop.

"So, you do feel something then?" The largest charming smile stretches across his face.

"That's not what I-"

"But that's what you said?"

"No, now you're twisting my words around." My usual organized thoughts are jumbled with him in here bombarding me with all these huge life-changing questions, not to mention he's shirtless with his distracting muscles and soft skin on display.

Oliver steps back to me, all signs of a smile gone, "Why did you call me that night when you were 19? After months of not talking you called me on that night."

I tense every muscle in my body unable to move or breathe or think besides anything other than that night.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I mumble unsure what he knows of that night. Surely he knows the significance if he's brought it up.

"You're lying. I know when you're lying, we've been best mates forever. You called me that night for a reason. You wanted me to give you a reason not to do it."

Ugh, this is mortifying.

"I don't know what you're talking about Oliver. I'd like to be done with this conversation, please. All of it." I scoot by him and stand at the door holding it open for him so he knows he needs to leave.

His tongue curls over his top lip and he shakes his head, plopping down on the side of my bed. "I'm not running, babe."

Babe?

"I've had enough," I stomp over to him scathing from the term of endearment that I have no doubt he throws around like it's nothing, "You are not going to bully me-"

His hands wrap around the backs of my thighs and yanks me between his legs.

I catch my footing by holding his shoulders and instantly the elastic on the waist of the skirt I'm wearing seems tight and my body itches and heats everywhere.

What was I saying?

I was saying something...I'm sure I was...

"Bullying you is not my intention." He gazes up at me, his hands still kneading the backs of my thighs. "I've just, I know you feel something for me..."

I don't know what I feel for him.

Attraction? Kinda'.

Anger? Yeah...but somehow I'm not angry at the moment.

Why am I suddenly not angry?

"I'm...confused." I exhale as the tips of his fingers trail around my thighs and move up under the light material of the skirt.

He smirks, this time silently, and looks up at me with those piercing green eyes, "It's a yes or no question. Black or white. You either are or your not."

"I'm not... answering." His tender fingers on the skin of my legs make forming a sentence or coherent thought almost impossible, the scent of pine and woodsy smell mixed with something else lingers around me making me feel intoxicated.

Okay, fine...I am very attracted to him.

His chin drops slightly and he peers up at me through his hooded eyes cocking a knowing dark brow. His hands detouring to the sides of my legs. The touch is gentle and soft contradicting the raging storm inside my belly, only adding to the confusion.

Well, not confusion...

I know what we're doing is very wrong but I continue enabling it by not stopping him.

I should stop him, right?

"Ollie?" I attempt to scold him and his wicked hands but the voice that comes out of me is almost ragged while I struggle to try to keep my breathing normal.

"Murry." He teases back with an impish smile dipping his fingers beneath the straps of my underwear. I shutter at the movement all thoughts or alarm bells are gone. Ollie guides me closer until the front of my legs are pressed against the side of the bed and I'm looking straight down into his face. "I know I can make you feel good, Muriel."

Oh

I'm not entirely sure what he means but the space between my legs flutters wildly with fervor like it knows the meaning behind his words.

"Let me have you." His voice now husky, low, and gritty while his hands tangle beneath the straps of my underwear and wrap around pressing against the intimate part of my lower back nudging the front of me against him.

I murmur against my scratchy throat, "But this wrong."

"Is it?" His hands drop from under the skirt and palm my rear, "It feels right to me." His words and the sound of his voice luring me closer to his lips and to consenting to his double meanings.

My lips tremble but I let them brush lightly against his open ones. He pulls back slightly sucking on his grinning lower lip bringing me even harder against him-.

Buzz, buzz...buzz, buzz

My phone!
______________________________________

Don't kill me, please! 🙏

If you know me, you know I LOVE tension and angst.

Also, what could have Ollie meant by THAT night when she was 19? 🤔

Thanks for reading!
CC