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“My father, Nicholas…” I trail off. “You make me feel worthy like I’m worth something.”
Oliver’s hand graces my cheek, a gentle caress against my heated skin. The simple touch prompts me to close my eyes. How can this be? In simply one move, a gesture of kindness, and he has calmed my world and reined in all focus on him.
“Look at me,” he begs.
I turn to face him, opening my eyes painfully slow. His eyes are boring into me, reaching inside every part of me, igniting a flame once dwindled. My breathing slows to a regular pace, certainly enough so my skin begins to cool, and I’m able to focus on his beautiful face.
“You are worth everything. And any guy lucky enough to call you his should worship the ground you walk on. You get me? Don’t feel anything less than that.”
I want Oliver to worship the ground I walk on. I desperately want him to tell me to turn back around, get far away from here, and make a life on our own. Drive back to our oasis, Manhattan Beach, where life is simple without the pressure of anything else.
“Why do you have to say the most perfect things sometimes? You’re annoying that way,” I whisper, lowering my head.
“Because I want to get you into bed, so it seems like the easiest way to do it.”
I slap his shoulder, and he grabs my hand, kissing the side of it. “I’m serious about you being worth it, Gabriella. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, you fight hard for what you want. You don’t accept the first roadblock. There are always hurdles—the universe is fucked that way. But never underestimate the power of your own self-worth.”
“Thank you,” I mouth, resting my face in his palm. “And about the bed thing? You don’t have to butter me up. I’m already as buttered as you can get.”
Oliver laughs, turning on the engine. “I’ve unleashed the dirty beast within you.”
“Oh…” I grin. “This could get worse, but you need to drive, and I need to sit here so nothing good can come from dirty talk.”
“You’re killing me. You know that, right?”
I nod, enjoying the thought of Oliver suffering just as much as me. “I believe you’re in a state of discomfort.”
“Sweetheart, discomfort is an understatement. Our foreplay session which has been going on for two weeks now, has turned my blue balls black.”
As the car begins to drive, I can’t help but want to ask the question, the curiosity killing me.
“So, you haven’t been with anyone else since the night we first met?”
Oliver shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the road.
“Is this the longest you’ve gone without…” I trail off, unable to say the word etched into my curiosity.
He nods his head, still not saying anything.
“Have I tamed the manwhore inside you?”
“You’ve done something… that’s for sure.”
I sit back in my chair with a satisfied smile on my face. A stream of songs comes on, but I’m lost in oblivion, my mind wandering to the possibility of us. How different life would be. We would live in Manhattan Beach, enjoy endless days of being with each other. But then, like a cold splash of water, the reality would be vastly different. Oliver wants his soccer career back, which means that if it is a possibility, he will be on the first plane back to Australia.
A million miles from here.
And I have my own battles.
No money, no job, and no roof over my head.
My father controls every aspect of my life.
And leaving his control would leave me with nothing.
I instruct Oliver to keep driving. No matter where we stop or visit, I won’t be able to avoid the reality of coming home.
We turn around the bend and drive down the treelined street. Each tree that passes causes my stomach to flip, the ill-feeling catching in my throat as my skin begins to crawl with heat. Every feeling that consumes me when I lived here comes back like a giant wrecking ball. The freedom of my own choices vanishes at the sight of the large dark-brick home appearing on my left.
