Page 10 of Ruthless Desires: Vol. One
“Sorry. Here’s your coffee.”
“Thanks.”
“Breathe,” Oliver murmurs as Elliot heads back to the counter. “Just like your therapist told you.”
My gut reaction is to snap and tell him I know how to handle myself, but underneath that, I’m thankful for the reminder. So I squeeze his hand and start one of my breathing exercises.
It helps… some.
Elliot comes back with his and Oliver’s coffees, and I bristle at the glance they share with each other. They’re concerned, and it should probably make me feel loved or something, but all it does is cause the ever-growing darkness inside me to wrap itself a little tighter around my heart.
I just want to be better.
“Maybe we should find a quieter shop,” Elliot suggests.
At that, Oliver ducks his head down and takes a sip of his coffee. He’s trying so hard to keep his true feelings to himself.
I can’t stand it.
“No,” I say, finally managing to get a grip on my tone. It’s firm but not harsh. “This place is nice. And…”And Oliver likes Wren.“We should keep trying. It died down after a bit last week.”
“We don’t have to, Rhett.” Oliver sets his mug down on the table. “This placeisa little lou—”
“We’re coming back.”
I want to try for you, O. Let me. Please.
He must see the words I can’t say written on my face because he nods and leans back in his chair. “Thank you.”
As we chat, I’m able to tune out some of the noise around us. This time with Ell and Oliver is too precious to waste. Fridays are our one day that we allow ourselves to slow down. A coffee date in the morning, lunch with Oliver’s mom around noon, and then an afternoon spent doing whatever we want. Often we end up working, and sometimes we have to reschedule lunch, but we never skip coffee. It means too much to us.
Wemean too much to each other.
Elliot is quieter than normal as we drink our coffee and chat. Oliver tells us about a particularly funny dream he had last night, and Elliot’s laughs are muted. Distracted. When he glances at me, his gaze lingers on my face, like he’s looking for something.
When Oliver gets up to use the restroom, I wait until he’s out of earshot before nudging Elliot. “Your coffee is gonna get cold.”
He glances down at it in surprise, almost like he forgot the mug is right in front of him. When he picks it up, he only takes a small sip before setting it back down again.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Are you sure about coming back here? This is supposed to be a time for us to relax, and I want you to be comfortable.”
“I’m fine, Ell.”
“But—”
“I want Oliver to have hope.”
Confusion flits across Elliot’s face, but then he glances toward the counter—or, really, to Wren, who’s filling orders and laughing with her coworker. “Oh.”
“He needs this,” I say quietly. “Something to keep him going. Haven’t you noticed his mood improving since last Friday?”
“You don’t think it’s too dangerous?” Elliot asks.
“Indulging in a little crush? No. Oliver isn’t stupid. He knows it can never be more than that.”
In another life, maybe. But with the lives we live, it’s better that we keep people like Wren at a distance. It’d be too easy for her to get tangled up in a mess that could get her killed.
