Chapter 14

Iwas coming undone.

Oliver slammed his lips onto mine—a bold move nearly knocking all the wind from my heaving lungs. There’s no moment to react or even decipher what the hell this all means before he presses his tongue to the seam of my lips, delving inside my mouth in a mad rush.

The strong scent of beer is exchanged in the intermingling of our billowing breaths warns me this is done out of a drunken stupor and without a single thought.

But I’m not drunk.

No, but I’m also not completely and utterly thinking one hundred percent straight, either.

My arms reach up and tangle around his strong neck until a cold splash of water laced with guilt consumes my conscience. I place my hand against his chest, the pounding of his heart beating like a drum against my palm.

Staring into his wild eyes, I beg for more time. It’s the only thing I can ask before we both do something we might regret. Everything is moving too quickly. I’d only just met Oliver, and my feelings for him terrify me.

Is it possible to fall for someone this quickly?

The mixed pain and hurt reflected in his expression before he retreated to his room alone. He was angry. The man hated the word ‘no’or any hindrance for that matter. It’s one of his many traits I have learned about him over the past two weeks. When he wants something, he goes for it all guns blazing.

Alone, while lying on the couch, I stare at the ceiling wishing things were different. If only I lived here and didn’t have a time bomb ready to go off and demand my presence back in a life that isn’t meant for me.

The tiny voice, my conscience as such, sits on my shoulder, a not-so-gentle reminder that I have Nicholas to think about. I owe him my fidelity. This break was never about finding someone else to be with. It was always about finding myself. Yet, this journey wouldn’t have been possible without Oliver in my life. He pushes me outside my comfort zone and makes me see another path worthy of taking.

I would be na?ve to think my family, especially my father, will accept my decision not to marry Nicholas. I have to find a way, an excuse that will satisfy my father enough that he will keep me in the family yet marry Oliver.

Marry Oliver? Can you seriously hear yourself?

Marriage, love, and Oliver in the same sentence are so far-fetched. I may have been feeling this way, but Oliver has other plans. I’d be a fool to think for one second I belong in them.

What if they did involve me?

What if he felt the same way I do?

My head spins in circles, back and forth, contemplating whether I go to his room and continue whatever it was we started. I even sit up and face the hallway leading to his room. Yet, something inside me warns me to stay right here.

This is complicated, more complicated than I ever imagined my life would be out here.

And time, as much as he hates that word, is exactly what we both need to process.

My eyes begin to feel like lead weights. Sleep is imminent as the night fades away, and my dreams all involve one man—my neighbor.

The sounds of footsteps wake me as the sunlight shines directly onto my face through the large glass windows. Lana and Sebastian arrive back early, and with Lana checking on Ace, I decide to use the bathroom to freshen up before Oliver steps out.

An hour later, Sebastian has cooked us what he calls an Aussie breakfast—eggs, bacon, beans, and toast with a thin layer of vegemite.

“The trick is to lather up on the butter and spread a thin layer of vegemite on top,” Sebastian suggests, sliding the jar over.

The color of the Vegemite looks rather questionable, yet I give it a go not to offend Sebastian. Serving a small piece and spreading it on the toast, Oliver walks in, head down, grabs a bottle of water from the refrigerator, and then silently walks back to his room.

“How did it all go?” Lana whispers as Oliver leaves the room. “Do I need to steam clean the couch?”

“No, don’t be silly. It’s not like that between us.”

“Really?” Lana seems surprised. “Because ever since Olly started spending time with you, he’s been different. Not the mopey, morbid Aussie who crashed in our spare room two weeks ago.”

“Woman has a point,” Sebastian mumbles with a mouthful of toast. “Different boy, that one.”

“We kissed,” I blurt out, desperate to talk about what is eating me up inside. “But why do I feel so guilty? Like I’m cheating on Prince Charming even though we’re ‘technically’ on a break.”

“Because you’re torn in an epic love triangle.” Lana claps her hands, followed by a squeal. “How exciting!”

“Um… exciting?” I stare at her, confused by the joyous outburst. “A love triangle is hardly exciting but more like stressful and exhausting. Besides, you have to be in love to be in a love triangle.”

I know Lana can read straight through me as I bow my head, avoiding her and Sebastian’s sideways glance. Trying to ignore the pressing conversation of love, I grab the empty plates and take them to the sink to wash up. The dishwasher could be loaded, but I find washing dishes therapeutic, something I haven’t done before my trip here. If my mother ever saw me washing dishes, she would have a coronary.

“Would you leave that, please? You’ve done more than enough,” Lana scolds, taking the dishrag from me.

I hate the tension between Oliver and me.

I miss him.

I miss his annoying ways. The way he throws in his sexual innuendos at random times. I know my asking for time has upset him, and I want to make it up to him. Show him I need him in my life, but the complication that follows me won’t be so easy to shake off. I have to make him understand that.

I just don’t know how, that is until my eyes dart to the hallway and sitting on top of the table is Sebastian’s motorcycle helmet.

“Do you think Sebastian would let Oliver ride his bike?” I ask Lana, knowing it is a long shot but hoping for the best.

“I guess so if he asked, but I don’t think he’s ridden since the accident.”

Sebastian places his empty plate beside Lana. I run it past him, and after much reluctance involving a lot of stubble scratching, he agrees. Though he warns me it’s his baby, and it needs to come back in one piece.

I quickly head back home, shower, and pull on a pair of black jeans and a loose blouse. My hair refuses to cooperate, and knowing I will be near the beach fighting the wind anyway, I opt to leave it out. It’s beyond a lost cause these days anyway.

I’ve been gone for thirty minutes, praying Oliver hasn’t snuck past and left for a morning run without me. I knock on Oliver’s door, opening it before he even has a chance to ask who it is.

He’s sprawled out on his bed with his back toward me, shirtless as usual, laptop beside him with his email application open. Purposely ignoring me, he’s not fazed one bit that I’m standing in his room while he continues to read what’s on his screen.

There is no doubt Oliver is beyond sexy. Even media outlets had named him Sexiest Aussie Sports Star. The night I searched him online, I stumbled across fan sites dedicated to him. They were run by groups of girls, blog posts written on how perfect his body is.

I am not immune.

Every inch of me desperately wants to climb into bed with him, run my nails along his perfectly tanned back, nuzzle my face into his neck, and inhale his skin.

Breathe.

Focus.

“Get out of bed, I have a surprise for you.”

“All surprises should involve bed,” he deadpans.

“C’mon, get dressed. We’re heading out.”

He lets out a groan, falling onto his back as he rubs his face. “Gabriella…”

“Yes, Olly?”

I can almost see the internal battle to tell me to get the hell out of here versus the small smile playing on his beautiful lips. His eyes spring wide open. Tilting his head upward, he finally gazes at me. “Do I get clues?”

“You’ll see,” I answer with a smile.

I latch onto his arm, dragging him out of bed. With clothes piled in his hand, he disappears to the bathroom. I sit on the edge of the bed waiting until my eyes wander to his laptop he left open. There’s an email on the screen, and although it isn’t my intention to snoop, my eyes wander across the title.

It appears to be an email from a medical specialist confirming his appointment in Colorado for next Monday.

Colorado… as in my home.

There’s a noise near the door, prompting me to pull away.

“Okay, Gabs, show me what you got?”

“No.”

Outside, at the front of the house, he backs away. He’s ready to go inside before I pull on his arm, dragging him back to the motorcycle.

“Gabriella, you don’t understand… I can’t just… I can’t just ride.”

“I don’t usually quote my father, trust me. I hardly ever agree with him, but one thing he said stuck. If you fail, you have to get up and try again. Allowing your failures to define you is one step away from rock bottom.” I watch him, the turmoil etched on his face as his brows draw in together, coupled with a pained expression.

He’s torn between his desire to ride and the fear of getting hurt.

“You need to do this, Oliver. Ignite your passion again because otherwise, you’re going to waste your life away not doing the things you love.”

“Ironic, coming from you.”

“C’mon,” I beg, handing over the helmet. “For me?”

“It’s not that easy,” he mumbles, touching the bars on the motorbike, admiring the steel metal finish. “The accident was…” he trails off.

I place my hand against his cheek, caressing it gently to calm him down. He presses into me, closing his eyes briefly.

“I guess if we can just go slow.”

“We?” I ask, confused. “As in… I’m getting on with you?”

He nods with a smile. “If you want me on this bike, you’re coming with me.”

“Um… okay.” I’ve never ridden a bike, but I know how much this means to him, so for now, I will have to suck it up, even if speed terrifies me. “Now, in full disclosure, I’m scared, but for you, I am willing to give in to my fears.”

Motorcycle riding is a combination of exhilaration, fear, relaxation, and pleasure that changes you forever. It’s physical and emotional pleasure with a layer of anxiety and adrenaline—all the things I hadn’t expected to experience as I clutched onto Oliver’s back.

We race through the hills, weaving our way through the windy roads. The wind blows against my arms, a euphoric feeling to experience such freedom.

Our destination is Del Cerro Park. It’s a popular spot with views of the Pacific Ocean coastline and Catalina Island.

When we reach the lookout spot, Oliver parks the bike and turns the engine off. Pulling off his helmet, there’s a satisfied smile on his face—a sense of accomplishment.

“How did it feel?”

“Intense, orgasmic, like catching up with a long-lost friend,” he purrs, unable to wipe the grin off his face. “Thank you for making me do this.”

“You’re welcome.”

We begin to walk at the southernmost end of Crenshaw Boulevard, south of the Pacific Coast Highway. The trail begins as a wide, unpaved path with expansive ocean vistas right from the start. Deep canyon walls fall off to the right, dropping to the coastline in an endless sea of blue.

Oliver intertwines his fingers with mine, holding my hand as we walk along the trail, passing the tourists who have stopped to admire the scenery and take photographs.

The sweeping vistas are breathtaking, and on this perfect summer’s day, the breeze is enough to take away the unwanted heat.

Something feels so right about this moment, and not one part of me feels guilty.

Oliver feels right.

Yet, it’s all still new, so fresh, and not wanting to rock the so-called boat, I choose not to pull away and enjoy our walk together, hand in hand.

“I’ve never been to Australia,” I tell him, stopping at the fence to admire the view. “Is it like this?”

“I figured the night I met you,” he chastises, reminding me of my humiliating effort to question his fake accent. “This view… I guess it does feel like back home. Our beaches are amazing, but everything else is so different.”

“How so?”

“We don’t tip.”

I pull back in shock. “Like never?”

He shakes his head. “Never.”

“I can’t imagine not tipping. What else?”

“Well, we drive on the other side of the road.”

“Really? But you drive here just fine.”

“I’ve practiced, but don’t for once think my heart doesn’t race when I accidentally turn onto the wrong side of the road.”

I never realized there were so many differences between the States and Australia. Now, I just want to visit to see for myself.

“What about the food?”

“Same. We don’t have as much fast food.”

The questions kept flowing. I’m desperate to learn more about him and seeing him so relaxed in conversation just makes me want to ask more questions.

“You live in Sydney? By yourself?”

He nods, leaning his elbows on the railing of the fence. “I have an apartment on the Quay. Makes it easier to travel back and forth to the stadium.”

I let out a loose laugh, almost a snort. “Is it a bachelor pad? Decorated in faux fur with a revolving bed playing Marvin Gaye when you dim the lights?”

“Perhaps you’re confusing me with Prince Charming.”

“Nicholas lives with his parents,” I inform him, unsure as to why. “The King Manor is the second-largest house in the county.”

“What’s the largest?”

“My parents’ house.”

He lets out a whistle. “Must be below you to hang out with a poor boy like me.”

“Money isn’t everything,” I remind him.

Oliver gazes at me, observing my reaction to his comment. Money isn’t everything, though so much of me doesn’t know how to exist without it. I was born into an incredibly wealthy family, and never once have I had to worry about my financial future.

That is—until now.

Oliver tugs on my hand. “Come on, let’s continue to walk around the trail.”

We stroll at an easy pace, talking about Oliver’s life back home. He speaks so fondly of his family—a conditional love I can’t comprehend.

We reach a small clearing with a food vendor selling ice cream and sodas, yet we walk past to see what other food is on offer until we spot an older couple arguing. The man looks embarrassed as his wife carries on, loud enough so everyone can hear.

“Oh, that poor man. What a bitch. Did she just tell him to get her a hot dog ‘you fat bastard’?”

I laugh, hearing the same thing. “I’d say they’ve been married for a while, and she controls the marriage.”

“Ain’t gonna be like that for me. My woman is going to be all class, not a raving lunatic like her.”

The thought of Oliver considering marriage is music to my ears. Not that I expected us to get married, but knowing he’s open to commitment seals the uncertainty wavering over me. This isn’t just an unwarranted fling. My feelings stem deeper. They have buried their roots and firmly planted a seed impossible to ignore.

“So, I accidentally saw the email on your computer screen,” I mention, hoping he’ll continue to be honest with me. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re seeing a specialist? I thought the injury was final?”

Oliver looks taken aback, the laughter evaporating from his eyes. His customary warmth gone faster than summer rain on the asphalt. Even his focus is somewhere on the people behind me as if I have become invisible to him, or he can’t bear to look at me at all. I’ve crossed some invisible line, offending him, but I am unsure why.

“You snooped my emails?” he barks, dropping my hand.

“I didn’t snoop. I was moving your laptop.”

“No one gave you the right to walk into my life and act almighty as if you know me. Jesus, Gabriella, when will you fucking learn to drop that subject?”

His comment is nasty, berating me for asking him a simple question. The hurt consumes me, followed by a stream of anger.

This is so like him.

Hot and damn cold.

One minute he’s an open book, and the next, I’ve crossed some imaginary line. I just can’t win with him.

I suggest we leave, and he takes me home.

Once again, I read more into us than I should have. The way he spoke to me, the angered tone, belittled the small amount of confidence I found when I am around him. Just like my father and Nicholas, my opinion or presence means nothing.

He drives back erratically at a speed well over the legal limit, causing my stomach to backflip from the sheer terror. I close my eyes the entire journey, only to open them when we slow down and park in the driveway.

The second we are dead still, I hop off, just as upset as he is.

He doesn’t say a word, going inside and leaving me alone. I hold back the tears stemming from my anger and head back home, sullen with a weight on my shoulder, again.

The house feels lonely. No longer the breath of fresh air I have grown accustomed to. The walls are bleak, the darkness creeping in as the sun begins to set.

For now, I welcome it with open arms, craving the solitude to allow myself to process what happened today.

Oliver Madden is a blessing and a curse.

He has a hold over me no matter how I try to shake it off.

But that’s the thing—I don’t want to shake it off.

It’s finally time to admit my heart rules.

My head is just the moron failing to catch up.