Chapter 55 - Oliver

T onight has been an absolute dream. Getting to talk to some of the most influential people in the city, along with total strangers gazing at my hard work. Their eyes shine with appreciation as I observe them, and Jacob's hand on my lower back presses a little harder against me.

"I'm proud of you," he murmurs against my ear, yet I don't feel anything with those words. I want to, though. I want to feel my dick twitch or my body give any indication that I like having him near. But nothing. Nada . "Everyone is in love."

"Thank you," I reply with a small smile. Then another person approaches me, effectively breaking us up. Thank God.

The evening goes by in a blur, a routine of smiling at strangers and praying that the smile doesn't make me appear constipated. I've practiced over the past few months, but sometimes, a little bit of sadness creeps in and ruins it all. Jamie is the only one who notices, but being in a room full of people doesn't make me feel any better about that fact.

I guess Jamie has practice, though. He has known me for a while now, and aside from Hunter, he's the only other person I've allowed myself to be vulnerable with. Putting myself out there is scary, which is why I haven't dated again. I've only done extremely casual hookups at bars with nameless people. Faceless too, considering it didn't matter who they were as long as nothing resembled Hunter.

So I started going for anyone who didn't have green eyes, and the blonder, the better. Escaping Hunter Hartman's claws is impossible, however, because even though I got what I wanted and no one looked remotely like him, I still compared everyone to him. No one was good enough. No one fucked me good enough. No one found my prostate fast enough. No one made me feel butterflies. Just. No. One.

So why did I go on two dates with Jacob? The first one was to hook up, so it doesn't even count. And we did. He fucked me pretty damn good. Maybe that's why I agreed to a second date. Now this is where I get lost. Did I want him to take me out because I liked him? Or because I wanted to forget Hunter? Am I ready to move on? Or did that seem like an impossibility, so I'm just testing my chances?

The guy is funny and handsome. Charming, too. His accent is hot, and my stomach flutters when he speaks to me in Spanish. But it doesn't feel like his kisses burn me alive. It doesn't feel like I can't breathe without him. He falls flat. And that's more disappointing than I care to admit. I hate Hunter for it, for not letting me forget him. I also hate that I don't. I'm breaking my promise to him with every passing day, and it feels like shit. He should be the one hating me .

The curator makes her way over to me with a pep in her step and a grin on her face. Good news, clearly, and my heart starts beating a little faster. I look over at Jacob, who looks between us and grins, then steps away from me to give us some privacy.

"Congratulations, Mr. Scott," she says, and my smile widens. "You just sold all your paintings."

My jaw drops and she laughs. " All of them?" I croak. Holy fucking shit.

"Yep." She glances around and then leans in. "And he left me his address for you. Said he'd like to meet."

My eyes narrow, and my confusion must show on my face as I shake it. "Who? I don't know if I'll meet them, but I can send a thank you card or something."

"Hunter Hartman."

Two words shouldn't undo me this way, but my lower lip begins to tremble and I have to trap it between my teeth to stop the movement. Just not fast enough because when I look at her with blurred eyes, there's pity written all over her face. Anger like I've never felt before consumes me, and my nostrils flare. What right does Hunter have to barge into my life now?

You told him to wait a year, you fucking idiot.

I never wanted to know where he lived because I didn't want to have access to him. I didn't want to know where to take a cab on the nights I felt lonely. I never wanted?—

"Oliver?" the lady asks.

Fuck, I hate my name.

"Mr. Scott is fine," I reply sharply, and when her eyes widen in shock, I frown. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I don't know what's happening right now." I take a deep breath and try again. "What is his address?"

I take down the information, and she watches me like she doesn't know I'm about to have a mental breakdown. It's truly funny how we're both pretending I'm okay. When really I just want to drop to my knees and beg God to go back in time. I want to beg and plead to not let me break our hearts. I want to beg and plead not to let me do it again. Except even I know that seeing him again is inevitable. I'd have to stay away from my family forever.

Jamie and his guys are always attending family trips, or they go on their own. It's like a constant honeymoon between all three of them. While I'm not jealous of them, I don't enjoy being alone in the huge apartment. I don't enjoy not having someone to spend my time with. And I definitely don't enjoy the feeling of grief that takes over my body every time I think about wanting to settle down.

"Thanks," I mutter, then turn on my heel and look at my watch.

There's only ten minutes left of the exhibition, and with the announcement that all my paintings have been sold I imagine people will be going home now. As if on cue, people begin to shuffle my way. There's disappointment on some of their faces as they say goodbye to me and talk about my art, but all I feel is relief as I watch them walk out the door. That is until?—

"Want to come home with me tonight?" Jacob asks me from behind, wrapping an arm around my waist while he whispers in my ear, his lips brushing against my skin.

And. I. Feel. Nothing .

I shake my head, "Sorry, Jake." He lets go of me, and I turn around to see him frowning at me. One more thing I don't like—he's the same height as me. No manhandling will be happening like this. "I have another commitment for tonight."

"A guy…? Or?"

"Or." I nod once. "You're a really amazing guy." He laughs like it's funny, yet I know I've hurt his feelings. "No, wait. You really are. Maybe when I'm in a better place, we can try this again…but right now, I don't think dating is for me."

"Someone must have really broken your heart," he murmurs, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to my lips.

I don't let him.

"He tore it out of my chest and tossed it in a blender," I reply dryly, attempting humor, but he doesn't laugh. He's not amused by my pain like other people are. You're making a mistake, Ollie.

"If you want me back, I'm here. Just one call away."

My heart begins to beat a little faster, and I nod, unable to formulate words. "Goodbye, Jake."

This time, he doesn't stop me.

This time, he lets me walk out the doors and doesn't follow me outside to get a cab—not that I want him to. I was serious when I said I didn't have it in me to date him right now. I don't have it in me to date anyone at all.

Another lie.

I debate for a whole thirty seconds on what to do—where to go. In reality, I know that thirty seconds is no time at all. But in my head, these have been the longest thirty seconds of my life. Home, or Hunter's?

Home.

Or.

Hunter's.

But I've already made my choice before I turn to the cab driver and give him the address. It doesn't take long before we pull up to a tall building with about a million floors. There's a man at the door who gives me a curious look before he asks me where I'm going, and I tell him Hunter Hartman's place. He nods once and lets me through.

My steps are heavy as I make it to the elevator, except this time, it won't open. I frown and look at a keypad right next to it, along with a card slot where you can swipe what I'm assuming is a key card. I freeze momentarily because, what the hell? How am I going to get up there? To the thirtieth floor? And why does he live so high up? Asshole.

I take out my phone and text Conrad.

Ollie

I need the elevator code for Hunter.

Conrad

Why are you there?

Ollie

Elevator code and I'll come home for Christmas.

Conrad

1013

I pocket my phone and stare at my shoes. Why the hell is his code my birthday? Our birthday? Anyone with half a brain could figure that out. Does he want people entering his condo, or just me? Did he know I'd find out where he lives? Was he hoping I'd let myself in?

Shaking my head, I punch in the code. This is all messing with my head. Except I just agreed to go home for Christmas, where he will undoubtedly be. I'll have to spend two nights sleeping in the room beside his. On the bed where we almost fucked, where he loved me more than anyone ever has. Where we would share secrets and dreams and stupid butterfly kisses.

I'm so fucked .

The elevator dings as the doors open for me, and I press the button to the correct floor. It's eerily quiet, and it sucks because I don't want to hear myself think right now. The way up is taking very, very long. Maybe this is a sign to turn around and not come up. That I need to let this go, and not give him the time of day. He's clearly trying to get a rise out of me, and I should not give him the satisfaction. But even I know I'm full of shit. I couldn't turn around at this point, even if I tried. And I'm not going to.

The elevator shakes as it stops on the correct floor, and I hold my breath. Except the doors open right to his living room, and I freeze in place, unsure of what to do. His penthouse is spacious. There are dark brown hardwood floors and warm paint on the walls. There's a long cream-colored sectional that makes the place look a little cooler than I'd like…it feels a little sterile. Then again, this is clearly not a home. Just a place to crash. Hunter Hartman hasn't had a home since us. I'm sure of that.

The elevator doors ding again, and just as they're about to shut, I cross and stand in Hunter's living room like it belongs to me. Like I belong in here. As if I have any right to. I hold my breath for ten seconds, then let it out. He has headphones on, and he's reading a book. I shouldn't be surprised, but I am at a loss for words. He looks like the same guy I lost. He looks like my Hunter. Even still smells like him too, if the scent filling my nostrils is any indication.

He moves, and my stomach drops, scared he's going to find me out before I can get out of here. I'm about to turn around to get the hell out of here when our eyes connect. It feels like my heart has stopped dead in my chest. Like hell has frozen over. Like every impossible dream I've ever had just came true. It feels like coming home.

"Ollie?" Hunter asks with wide, hopeful eyes, and it does something to my chest. It feels like I'm having a goddamn heart attack.

I steel my spine and take a step forward, ignoring the thundering of my heart as I muster up all my strength and reply, "Hunter."