Chapter 31 - Oliver

I t's funny how life works sometimes.

I hadn't been to the cemetery in months, not since Hunter all but kicked me out last time—right before rehab. And then it didn't feel right to come after since I wasn't sure if it was an insult to my mom's memory to get better—to be sober. But I know if there's one thing she would've wanted, it was for me to get clean.

Either way, here I am, sitting in front of my mom's grave and laughing. It almost feels like old times when I would sit with her and tell her all about my day. I could never talk about my relationship with Hunter before, but now that she's not here anymore…well, I feel more free to say what's on my mind. It's not like she can express her disapproval, even if she feels it. God, I'm so fucked up.

"And then…" I laugh again. "He thought Jamie was my boyfriend. Can you believe that shit? I mean, it's not like he cared. At least it didn't seem like it when his fingers were in my ass— sorry , mom."

Okay, yeah. I'm a weirdo.

Talking to my mom's grave alone at night isn't exactly my idea of a good time, but I had to come see her. It feels wrong not to have visited before now, and I realize I didn't since I was afraid of seeing Hunter here. Fortunately for me, he was asleep before I left the apartment. Which is where I'm headed, if the cold raindrops are any indication. I'm not sticking around to get rained on.

I'm sitting on the couch an hour later, watching The Holiday. It was one of Mom's favorite movies—one she all but forced me to watch with her every year. Now it's one of my favorites too, if only to remind me of her.

The lights are off, and the TV is the only thing illuminating the small space. I chuckle at something Cameron Diaz says and cover my mouth with my hand to keep the sounds in. I don't know if it was me or if he was already up, but Hunter suddenly walks in my direction and plops down on the couch right next to me. He moves my ass out of the way and presses himself against me, his entire front to my back, pushing me forward. I tense, unsure of what the hell is going on, and when his breaths meet my ear, I close my eyes.

This is pure fucking torture, and he knows it. How dare he play with me this way? He knows how I feel—he's always known.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I breathe slowly, trying to disentangle myself from him, but he shoves one leg between mine and buries his face into the crook of my neck. Tears sting my eyes as I close them.

"You always did like those sappy fucking movies," Hunter mutters, his lips brushing against my skin, feeling like a thousand zaps of electricity. "It's not even Christmas, Oliver."

I flinch, and my eyes fly open.

He's back to calling me Oliver, like what he did to me a few days ago meant nothing. As if he didn't call me baby and Ollie. Like I don't matter—again.

"Yeah." I nod slowly.

"Come here, Ollie." Hunter pulls me impossibly closer until he's completely flush against my back.

My stupid body warms at the nickname, or maybe it's the fact that he's finally holding me this close. I can feel his heart beating against my back—strong and fast. It feels like it's about to give out on him, matching my own. "O-okay…"

Doing my best, I take in the shakiest breath of my entire life. I don't know what it is about him right now, but he wants me. I've been dreaming about this moment for months, yet I never would've imagined my dream would come true. Mostly since I never thought we'd ever get close enough to be in the same room again. However, if he wants to pretend everything is fine? I can do that.

But then he removes his arm from over my waist. "Please, no," I whisper. "Don't stop this."

"Beg me."

" Please , Hunt." I don't even fucking care how embarrassing it is to be begging him after how shitty he has treated me. I physically can't take him walking away right now. I can't do it. "Don't leave."

Hunter sighs against my ear, then presses his soft lips to my temple. And now I want to cry all over again. Fuck . Somehow, I hold the tears in and grab onto his arm instead until it's wrapped tightly around me.

There's a tense silence between us, and I want to break it. For some reason I know he won't be the one to do it. But at the same time, I wish we could just lie here in silence, pretending everything is okay. If I had a time machine, I would go back in time—to senior year in high school, when everything was fucking perfect. When he'd come into my room every single night and snuggle me to sleep. When he'd kiss me and make things right for me. When he defended me from everyone. And this, right now? Even if he doesn't love me anymore, or won't admit to it, I know a tiny piece inside him craves me. At least a little bit. Just enough to seek me out.

Hunter presses his nose against my hair and takes in a deep breath. "You smell the same as always, baby."

My stomach flutters and drops at the term of endearment, and I swallow hard. "Like what?" I whisper, afraid that raising my voice will break whatever spell he's under. I never want this to fucking end.

"Vanilla cupcakes." His favorite. Our favorite.

Taking in a shaky breath, I let it out slowly. "You've always liked that."

"Mhmm," he acknowledges, tightening his arm around me slightly.

I don't know what comes over me, but I turn around, facing him until our noses brush together. His breath is warm against my lips, and I close my eyes, fighting everything inside of me to not kiss him right now. Just when I think he's going to throw me off the damn couch, he pulls my body in, shoving his leg between mine again.

Hunter's eyes are searching mine, so fucking green that I get lost in them. I don't know what he's looking for, but he must find it if his lips tipping up one side is any indication. He leans in, brushing his lips against mine in an almost kiss, and I whimper in anticipation.

"I hate you, Ollie," he whispers, licking his lips and my own in the process. "But I also hate that I don't."

Why is he being vulnerable right now? It's fucking with my head. I'd rather think he despises me than know there's a small part of him that doesn't. It's more painful this way—to know I would have a chance if it weren't for what happened with our mom.

"I hate myself enough for the both of us," I whisper back, and he cups my face, brushing his thumb against my cheek.

"I doubt that."

Please no.

Don't take this away from me now.

"Kiss me," I say softly. "Put me out of my misery…I can't fucking do this anymore, Hunt."

Hunter gives me a small grin. Our noses brush against each other, and my breath hitches in my throat. "You know I can't do that."

"Why not?"

Because you killed my mom.

"Because I won't be able to stop."

If I were standing up, my legs would've given out on me right about now. I don't know what's more devastating, that he won't kiss me, or that he wants to. "Then don't stop."

Hunter chuckles roughly. "Fuck," he whispers. "Go to sleep, Oliver. I don't want to do something I'll regret in the morning. I don't want to hate you more than I already do. So please, please go to sleep."

It's painful to close my eyes, but I do it, trying my best to fall asleep. The way his breathing slows and deepens is what relaxes me, the way his nose is pressed up against mine, the way our foreheads are meeting. Fuck, I hate this. I hate how much I've missed this—how much I've craved him. Oxy was never my drug of choice—it's always been him. And yet, when the poison fills my body, he's always been the antidote.

I'm not sure when I fall asleep, or if I even do, but I stir at the cold feeling of his body leaving mine. I miss him immediately but choose not to reach for him. I've already shown him enough weakness, and so has he. And if I know him—and I do—he will regret this in the morning and hold it against me. I'm not even the one who sought him out, though I'm going to fucking pay for it.

I pretend to be asleep, turning over onto my opposite side, if only to open my eyes and see if he's left. Then I feel body heat and hear rustling, and I realize he's kneeling in front of the couch, his eyes probably on my face. Forcing myself to breathe normally, I just lie there.

His lips meet my forehead, and I hold my breath. "You're still a fucking brat." He comes back for a second kiss, his full lips lingering on my skin. "But God, I've missed you, Blue."

I melt into the couch, my stomach bottoming out, and I fight everything inside of me not to whimper. It's hard to keep my eyes closed, to not reach out and yank him toward me. To not take his lips the way I've been wanting to ever since I laid eyes on him again—but somehow, by some true fucking miracle, I keep myself from doing all of that.

Hunter lays a blanket on me, tucking me in the way I love, and then I hear his footsteps getting further and further away as he retreats, leaving me to question everything. I already miss him. He's so far away and yet so fucking close. I can almost taste him, but I can't have him.

I feel my heart crack in my chest just a little bit.