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The national anthem pauses our conversation. Once the game starts, Chelsea begins her own interrogation.
“You work with Olivia’s uncle, right?” I nod. “How are you liking it?”
I wished she hadn’t asked. Only because Olivia and I haven’t really talked about my new job. She knows I’ve had good days and I’m enjoying it, but that’s all I say. It’s the only thing I want to say right now. To answer Chelsea’s question, I simply say, “I’m enjoying it.”
“You’re a man of few words, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.” Her question makes me nervous for some reason, so I clear my throat. “How did you two meet?”
It takes every last drop of energy in me to focus on the words spewing from their mouths, to pay attention, and to contribute. By the time we’re walking up the stairs to our apartments, I’m ready for a nap. Olivia, however, is a different story. She’s grinning at me when we stop outside our doors. I don’t know what she wants us to do, if anything. I don’t even know if I’m up for exerting more effort.
“Why are you grinning like that?” I finally ask when the smile doesn’t go away.
“You did good today, Corey. You even seemed relaxed at times.”
I was. Every time I started to get antsy and ready to go, Olivia would use her see-into-my-soul shit and touch me. Either by taking my hand, leaning into me briefly, or wrapping her arms around my waist. It was enough to make me feel better for a little while longer. “I was, thanks to you.” She smiles. “If you want to hang out, it’s going to have to be my place.”
“I was going to fix us dinner.” It’s a half-hearted protest to keep me out a little while longer, but it’s not going to work.
Pressing my lips against hers in a soft, short kiss, I tell her, “Then cook in my kitchen.”
Olivia nods. “I’ll get the stuff.”
We disappear into our respective apartments. I toe out of my shoes and shrug out of my jacket before turning on the TV and lying down on the couch. A happy sigh of relief comes from me as I sink into the cushions. Home at last. My eyes get heavy, drooping until they close.
“COREY.” OLIVIA’S SWEET voice travels to my ears as she shakes my shoulder. I blink my eyes open a few times before focusing on her. “Dinner’s ready. You okay?”
“Yeah, why?” I sit up. Both of our plates and drinks are sitting on the coffee table. I cover a yawn with my hand.
She sits next to me. “The only time I’ve ever seen you take a nap is after working with my uncle.”
She’s worried because I took a nap? True, I didn’t technically do anything tiring today, but it’s not like I’m sleeping every chance I get again. Olivia is still watching me, looking concerned. “A nap is just a nap, Olivia.”
Finally, she nods and we pick up our plates. The silence between us is welcome. Afterwards, Olivia is about to clean up, but I pull her back on the couch with me.
“I’ll get it later. You cooked, I’ll clean. Stay here with me.”
Today’s been good. It’s one of those days where I want Olivia more than anything. Having her tucked against my side, her hand on my thigh, and just her being on the couch with me, is driving me crazy.
Until she speaks, killing all the good.
“I want to go for round two.”
My fingers, in midcircle on her arm, freeze when she speaks. Round two. Does this mean we’re going to talk about why I won’t ask her out? I swear, every time we have a remotely good day, she always ends up dragging me back down. I wonder if she realizes that. She helps so much, but she’ll mention something and bam. The majority of my happiness during the day is sucked right out of my body.
“Olivia,” I start, wanting to stop it before I begin wanting her to leave.
She sits up, placing a hand on my chest as she pushes herself away from me, so she can look at me. “Hear me out first. If you don’t want things to change yet, that’s fine. But if we’re going to continue like we are, I at least want to know why. I need to know where your head is for my own sake.”
For a moment, anxiety poisons my blood. Have I missed something? Maybe because I won’t move forward, I’ve hurt her without realizing it? She said if we’re going to continue like we are. Does that mean my answer might change things? I’m nowhere near a place where I can handle losing her.
“Hey,” her soft voice startles me out of my thoughts. “Stop thinking and start talking.” When I give her a pained expression, hoping she’ll let it go, she takes my hand, keeping her eyes fixed on me. She’s not going to budge either.
Reluctantly, I nod. How am I supposed to tell her without saying everything? If she’s already hurt, there’s a good possibility that what I’m going to say could hurt her more. I shift and reword my thoughts, but nothing’s helping. Finally, I let the words flow.
“You told me I wasn’t broken, that I wasn’t healing and couldn’t stand up yet. I don’t want to move forward until I can stand on my own. How in the hell am I supposed to do all those relationship things when I’m having trouble taking care of myself? How am I supposed to be there for you when I don’t even want to be around you sometimes? What does it say about me that I’m selfish and say mean things to possibly the nicest person I’ve ever met?
“I can’t do it, Olivia. Everything is so fucking unstable, and you deserve way more than that. Way more than I could give you right now. I’m a mess, my life is a mess. I’m in no position to tack on a relationship.” A million emotions have been passing over her face, none of them looking good. I cup her cheeks, needing to touch her because I feel as if I’m on the verge of losing her.
