Page 49 of Antidote

Ollie kissed me yesterday.

And I kissed him back.

Well, I guess I’m still lying to myself—considering I initiated it. But I want to live in my delusion. I don’t want to think about the guilt that hit me like a ton of bricks as soon as I realized what I was doing. It felt like I was betraying my mom all over again, and it’s getting harder and harder not to do it.

Living with Oliver has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. He’s the bane of my existence while also being the reason I don’t break down daily. I don’t know if he gives me strength or if I just don’t want to be a sad little bitch in front of him. Probably the latter. I don’t want to look at it too closely, or I’ll probably realize he’s right about so many things. But giving in would mean proving him right, and the stubborn part of me doesn’t want to do that. Not to mention, I’m still not sure about my sexuality.

It’s all so confusing.

But now, sitting at this bar with Connor, I’m beginning to wonder if I should give it a go with another guy. Someone a few barstools down has been looking at me like I could be his next meal. Blond hair, green eyes. Nothing like Oliver. I don’t think it would be a bad idea. At least to see if I can get it up for someone else who isn’t a woman. It would be a little experiment. And no one would have to know about it. Unless he told everyone, then I’d be fucked.

Connor directs my attention back to him, bumping my shoulder. There’s a frown on his face and my brows furrow in confusion. “What’s up?” I ask him.

“Dude, you just spaced out,” he replies with annoyance. “It’s like I’m talking to a wall.”

“Sorry,” I mutter. “Just have something on my mind.”

“Me too.” He nods, and I stare at his face. He’s pretty, with his soft blue eyes and blond hair, yet I wouldn’t say I want to fuck him. Goddamn it, this is so confusing. “I want to ask you something, and I want you to be honest.”

“Sure?” I reply even though it’s more of a question.

“Why did you fight Dylan?” he asks me, and my stomach dips. I don’t know what to tell him, and my hands start to shake. “It kinda looked like you were jealous. Like you didn’t want him to have Oliver for himself. You’ve been off lately ever since he came to live with you. Is there something going on?”

“Nah, man,” I deny without hesitation. God, I’m such a fucking liar. “Everything’s straight.” Except for maybe me.

“Bullshit,” he insists, and I swear he’s starting to piss me off. My body gets hot all over, and my hands ball into fists. I really don’t want to do this right now. I take a swig of my beer and inhale a deep breath. “You acted like Oliver was your boyfriend. Be real with me, Hartman. Do you have a thing for him?”

I scrub a hand down my face. “I don’t know, okay?” I instantly regret the words and can no longer take them back. His eyes are wide, his lips parted in surprise, and I want to punch myself in the face for opening my big mouth. Then again, he’s my best friend. If I can’t trust him and talk to him, who the hell can I lean on? “I’m confused about what I want. He killed my mom.” My voice cracks at the last word.

Connor flinches and nods, lips tight. “Did he, though?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? He fucking overdosed, and that’s the only reason she was driving to the hospital.”

“But you could’ve gone with her.”

“Where the fuck do you get off?—”

“Look, man.” Connor places a hand on my shoulder, turning his body entirely toward me. When I narrow my eyes again, he drops it. “You can’t place the blame on just one person. From what you’ve told me, it seems like there were too many factors at play. Your dad could have driven. You could have driven. It was just shitty luck.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” My hands shake as I restrain myself from decking him. “Don’t you think I live with guilt?”

“Okay, so stop placing it on others too,” Connor says, and I don’t know why he cares so fucking much.

“I’m gonna take a piss,” I mutter.

I don’t actually need to, but I do need a minute away from him. So I make my way to the back of the bar, where the restroom signs are. It’s a single bathroom with no stalls. Just as I’m about to shut the door and lock it, a hand pushes it open. My eyes narrow on the pretty blond guy with green eyes, and he smirks at me. He’s tall and broad. Muscular. I can tell he works out or plays a sport. Maybe he’ll even be a little rough with me so I can get out of my head.

Is this a good idea, though?

What if this gets out?

Then my reputation will be fucking ruined, everything I’ve worked so hard for. What I’ve been suppressing for years will come to a head and fuck me. No?—

“You got room for two?” he asks in a husky voice. On second thought, maybe this is precisely what it will take to get my mood back up.

“It’s a bathroom for one,” I reply with a raised brow.

“Exactly.” He winks, and I gaze at him with narrowed eyes.

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