Page 13 of Oliver

But then another thing occurs to me. They’ve been engaged for almost three months. Did he go out and propose to her the very next day? What the actual hell? I’m so fucking pissed off, confused and hurt I don’t know where to start. Was he just using me as one last hurrah before he asked Mom to marry him? How fucked up is that? I want to strangle him for putting me in themiddle of this against my knowledge, for making me think he cared, even a little bit, for spending so much energy and time thinking about him. I can’t believe I shed tears over the asshole. And how can I let Mom marry someone who was unfaithful to her? Does she know? Should I say something? I don’t know how to do that without ruining everything.

My stomach grumbles and I have to pee, so I guess I should start there.

Sliding out of bed, I make my way to the bathroom across the hall in my pajama bottoms and no shirt. I pee, wash my hands, run my fingers through my hair before tying it back in a messy bun, and then make my way downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast and coffee. It’s quiet, thank God. I could use the time to myself, away from Mom and Oliver to figure things out. Like how the hell I’m supposed to go on a two week long road trip with them, watching Oliver share a bed with Mom, watch them kiss and flirt and hold hands, while I try to pretend like nothing happened between us. I’m so pissed that I slam my coffee mug down on the counter before getting a k cup out and placing it in the Keurig. I turn it on and wait for it to warm up before setting my mug under the dispenser and pushing the button.

“Good morning,” I hear and start, turning to see Oliver standing there in slacks and a button down shirt, sleeves rolled up and the first couple of buttons undone. He looks exactly like he did the night we fucked. And even though I hate myself for it, I find I can’t look away. He’s too fucking pretty not to stare at.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I snarl, finally meeting his gaze, and remembering that I’m fucking furious with him. He flinches at my words. Good. If he thinks I’m going to be nice to him, pretend like nothing ever happened, like he didn’t cheat on Mom, he’s got another thing coming.

“I…I work from home,” he says.

“Of course you fucking do.” My words are bitter as I wait impatiently for my coffee so that I can get the fuck out of here. So much for enjoying my alone time. Looks like I’ll either be stuck in my room all day or out doing I don’t know what.

“Hunter,” he says, in a way that has my chest squeezing, as he steps closer to me. I hold my hand up and shake my head.

“No,” I say firmly. “Don’t.”

“It was a mistake,” he continues, making my heart fall into my stomach. Don’t I want him to admit that, though? To admit he was just stressed or overwhelmed, that he didn’t mean to cheat on Mom? So why does it hurt so much? “I didn’t?—”

“No!” I shout, and I hate that I have tears stinging my eyes. I grab my coffee and even though I would normally be decorating it with cream and sugar, I take it black so I can get the fuck away from him.

When I reach my room, I slam the door and lock it behind me. He isn’t worth my tears.

Unfortunately I’m still fucking starving even after I gag down the bitter coffee, but there’s no way I’m going back downstairs.

Around seven that evening I hear a knock on my door. I’ve only left twice to go to the bathroom and shower, and other than that I’ve stayed put. I have my phone and a television, my video games, so I don’t need to leave. But I’m so hungry now I feel sick.

“Hunter,” I hear his sultry British voice, and my jaw clenches when a shiver runs down my spine. Fuck him. “Your mother won’t be home until late. I made dinner if you want some. I’ll be in my room so you can get it without worrying about running into me.”

I wait until I hear him move across the hall and shut the door to the master bedroom. Then I slip out of my room and down the stairs to the kitchen where I pile my plate high with french fries and breaded fish. I moan when I’m back up in my room andstuffing my face. The man might be an absolute fuckwad, but he can cook.

I play video games for a while after my plate is clean, before I hear Mom’s footsteps ascending the stairs, and there’s an ache in my chest at the knowledge that she’s sharing a bed with Oliver. That she’s the one in his arms, that she’s kissing him, touching him, being fucked by him. The man cheated, twice, and I hate him for it, but I also hate that he’s in my house and I’m not allowed to touch him. He isn’t mine. He will never be mine. How can I go the rest of my life with him as my stepfather when what I want is for him to be my lover? How can I still desire him when I know the kind of man he is? How can I sleep, knowing what’s going on down the hall from me, between my mom and the only man who’s ever made me want more than a one night stand?

How am I going to survive the next month, let alone the next thirty years, being in his presence and pretending I don’t want him?

I turn my game off after another hour, then go across the hall to brush my teeth and use the bathroom, thankful that if anything is going on behind their closed door I can’t hear it. I finish in the bathroom before returning to my room. I close my door and climb into bed. I lie there for several more hours before I finally fall asleep. And even then, it’s restless.

Five

HUNTER

The next day I run some errands and pick up any last minute things we might need for our road trip. I bring everything inside and grab some lunch, before I make my way back up to my room.

My phone buzzes and I pull it out of my pocket as I sit on my bed. It’s a group text with Matt and Sam.

Matt: Yo, dude, how’s it going? What do you think of your mom’s man??

God, that’s a loaded question. He’s a lying, cheating, son of a bitch, and the guy I’ve been hung up on for months, and I can’t be around him without being furious and wanting him at the same time, and I have no idea if I should say something to Mom, because how can I tell her I slept with her boyfriend, even if I didn’t know who he was, and break her heart, outing Oliver in the process? But how can I not, and let her marry someone who cheated on her? He put me in the worst, most fucked up situation of my life and I don’t know what to do.

Me: Haven’t decided yet.

Sam: lol, don’t be too hard on him for banging your mom

Nausea fills my stomach and a surge of jealousy roils through me. I know that’s messed up, but he was mine, goddamn it. Only for a night, but it was enough to make an imprint on me so deep I don’t know how to think of him with Mom and not feel sick or fucking furious.

Me: Ewww, barfing emoji

Matt: lol, enjoy your road trip