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He didn’t bother showering, but he took his time going through his clothes and went with some low-slung sweats and a peekaboo crop top that only just showed a sliver of stomach. He pressed his hand to his exposed skin as he stood in front of his mirror and thought about what Victor might have said to see him like this.
What he might have thought.
He wouldn’t have been judgmental. He would have just been…sad. Sad that Oliver had let himself go. And he probably would have blamed himself, which made Oliver ache all over, almost like he had a fever.
He stared at his phone, which was lying face-up on the bed, and for a second, he wished that Victor would text him. Which, of course, was impossible. Oliver had changed his number and deleted his former email, so there was no way for Victor to find him unless he decided to show up at Oliver’s door.
A tiny part of him was waiting for that, but he knew Victor better than that.
It was better this way.
It was better to live in the memory of being Victor’s angel. It meant he didn’t have to know if Victor had gone home, slept in his own bed, and woken up to regret everything they’d done.
This gave him the fantasy of being star-crossed and forever loved from far, far away.
Taking a cleansing breath, Oliver slipped on his loafers and grabbed his keys before heading out. The salon was only a few blocks from his apartment, so he walked, grabbing a coffee from the shop across the street.
He was standing on the curb, waiting for traffic, when a hand suddenly grabbed his arm. Oliver felt an intense rush of panic race up his spine as he spun around, half expecting to find himself face-to-face with a disgruntled former client.
But instead, it was Kelsi, looking as pissed as she had every right to be, considering Oliver had ghosted just about everyone, including her.
She stood there with her arms crossed, one perfectly sculpted brow lifted high on her forehead. “Well?”
“Well,” he repeated back at her, playing ignorant. He knew what she wanted—what she deserved. He just didn’t know how to explain why he’d gone MIA.
Kelsi scoffed and gave him a shove into the street. Oliver cried out until he realized there were no cars, and then he began to cross over with Kelsi at his heels. “I figured I’d find you here eventually. Those roots aren’t going to bleach themselves.”
Oliver winced but didn’t look back as he held the door open. She breezed past him and waved to a couple of people in the salon as Oliver’s gaze roamed around and eventually found Candi. His stylist gave him a slightly concerned look once she realized his angry friend was sticking to his side.
“Um. Can I have a minute?” Oliver asked her.
Candi nodded. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
Taking a breath, Oliver jerked his head over to a collection of soft chairs, though rather than sitting down, he pressed his knee to one and waited for Kelsi to come close enough so he could speak to her without putting on a whole show for the other customers.
“Are you at least sorry?” she demanded after a beat.
Oliver dragged his hand down his face. “Yes and no.”
“Oh. That’s fucking rich. You peace out for months without a word—change your fucking number—but you’re not all the way sorry?” Her voice was shaking, and he hated himself because she was most definitely hurt.
He bowed his head. “I fucked up.”
She scoffed. “You think? God, I thought…” Her voice cracked, and her breath trembled in her chest. “I thought something happened to you. Then I saw you like a fucking chump getting coffee a couple weeks ago like you were just going about your life when we all…” She stopped, and Oliver’s heart sank to his feet.
They all knew what he did—they knew his plans, so of course they would have thought something had happened to him. AndGod, how had he fucked up so badly? “I didn’t think.”
“Obviously,” she snapped, and then her voice softened. “Did something happen?”
“Yes,” he told her, “but not the way you’re thinking. I…” He glanced over his shoulder at Candi and had half a mind to just cancel right then and spill his guts to Kelsi, but he needed this. “Get your phone out.”
She did, without question, and he sent her a quick text, which prompted her to update his number.
“I’m going to call you when I’m done here and feeling a little more human.”
“Oliver,” Kelsi protested, laying a hand on his arm, far more gently than he deserved. “What happened?”
“It’s a long story,” he told her. He stroked the top of her knuckles with a thumb. “I just need to get my shit together for a minute, and then I’ll come find you. Okay? And I’ll tell you everything.”
