Stay with me

Chapter Eleven

“All at once, she’s a monster and masterpiece,

worthy of someone to both quiet the dark side

and lights the colors of her soul on fire.”

—Oliver Masters

A LOUD THUNDERSTORM woke me Sunday morning as the downfall beat against my window. The rain sang its song over Dolor in the most soothing tempo in the dark sky. Nothing but gray skies hovered in the distance as I looked passed the brick wall surrounding the campus, and over the rolling hills. Nothing indicated the weather would lift for the rest of the day. The sun pla

After my morning shower, which turned into a workout on its own with my cast, I pulled on my comfy gray sweatpants and a white tee, brushed my teeth, and threw my hair into a sloppy bundle over my head because it was one of those days. It was Rain’s day.

Zeke had finished eating by the time I reached the mess hall, and Jake’s entire crew was absent. They must have partied hard last night, and lost themselves in a dream through the morning.

Taking my seat across from Zeke, I pulled the hoodie over my head. Each time it was Rain’s day, the building dropped ten degrees.

“Good morning, Zeke.”

Zeke’s wild eyes darted around before picking at his plate. The large floor-to-ceiling windows took up one whole side of the mess hall next to our table as the rain came down hard, beating like a loud drum. Zeke’s hand shook as he held his fork.

“It’s fine. You’re safe.”

My attempt at reassurance didn’t seem to appease him, so I brought my attention back to my food. “I had a croissant yesterday, sure as hell better than this crap,” I muttered, picking at the eggs. I took a mouthful and forced it down—starving—but anything was better than nothing. I was begi

“So, yesterday, Ollie and I went to the library. Have you been?”

Zeke flinched under the clap of thunder with panic in his brown eyes. If I continued talking to him, maybe it would take his mind off the thunderstorm. “It’s like a maze. You could get lost in that place. Books everywhere, stacked in piles over the floor all the way to the ceiling. It was a-maze-ing.” I chuckled at my crack at a pun before looking back up to Zeke. “Oh, come on. That was fu

Thunder erupted close by as lightning hit, sending the mess hall into complete darkness. Zeke let out a shriek, and I scurried to his side without thinking. I crouched down beside him, unsure of what to do—if I should reach out to touch him, or if I should speak. It was dark, and I could hardly make out his face.

“It’s okay. Breathe, Zeke, just breathe. It’s me. It’s Mia. I’m not going to let anything hurt you,” I said over his cries.

Zeke’s scream died down as I continued talking him through it, waiting for the lights to turn back on, or the generators to kick in.

About two minutes into the darkness, the lights slowly flickered on when an a

“Okay, Zeke, I’m going to take you back to your room, but you have to show me where it is.” I helped him out of the chair. Based on Zeke’s physique, he couldn’t have been older than sixteen.

We walked close together as he led the way and people shoved past us in the halls. Doors opened and closed, party invitations in specific room numbers tossed in the air, and laughing and insults paraded the halls. Zeke paused from time to time to freeze in place.

Zeke’s room was the same size as mine but seemed smaller with the amount of furniture stuffed in the small space. He had padded walls, and a television and DVD player sat on top of a dresser against the wall where my desk stood. In the corner was a small table and chair for one. Beside the table was a mini fridge. “You have it made in here, Zeke.”

Zeke went straight to his bed and curled into a ball before I waved goodbye and closed his door behind me.

After reaching my dorm, I found another note passed under my door. It read, “Breakfast in my room, knock two times –O.” A smile formed, and each time it did, it became easier and easier to smile in his name. This smile was different from others. It wasn’t the kind of smile I had to fake, which was my go-to smile. This smile wasn’t pressured like when someone told a horrible joke. This smile wasn’t forced, like the times people said, “Smile, Mia. Things could be worse.” No, this was Ollie’s smile; habitual, distinctive, and easy.

I walked the four rooms down to Ollie’s and knocked two times as instructed.

“Who’s there?”

“Mia.”

“Mia who?” Ollie asked, amused, from the other side of the door.

Shaking my head, my Ollie-smile reached my eyes. “Mia, come in already?”

The door opened and a half-asleep Ollie stood on the other side with a lazy smile. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was his “Mia-smile,” or if he had one at all. His hair was a mess, and he wore sweatpants with a loose black tee.

“We’re going to have to work on your knock-knock jokes, love.” His two emerald eyes sparkled as he reached for my good hand and pulled me in.

His room was cleaner than I’d ever seen. There were pillows—actual pillows—and blankets over his mattress. “Did you not have a party last night?”

“I did, but I kicked everyone out early. Here, I got your croissant,” Ollie said, handing me over a bag, “but I couldn’t get the coffee. That’s only on Saturdays.”

Wasting no time, I reached into the bag for the donut and sank my teeth into its glory. “Oh, you are incredible,” I hummed with a mouthful.

Ollie climbed over the mattress and melted into a heap of pillows against the wall. “What are your plans for the day?” he asked as I fell over the mattress beside him.

“We’re on lockdown, so I guess nothing. I’m supposed to be in my dorm right now.”

“No, you’re good. Stanley won’t do a security check because of a storm.”

After finishing my donut, I sucked the glaze off my fingers as impulsive moans were liberated from inside. Ollie’s eyes lit up as I savored each finger. “Do you always moan when you eat? Because you’re sort of turning me on.”

I elbowed him playfully in the shoulder, and he fell back, pretending to be wounded.

“I’m told I make more noise when I eat than during sex, so yeah … as long as the food’s good, I can’t help it.”

“I like it,” he whispered, and another clash of thunder echoed in the room as the wind whistled against the window, “but I don’t want to hear about your sex life.”

“Jealous?”

Ollie shook his head. “Crestfallen.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Gutted”—he wrapped his arms around my waist and dragged me back against him—”discouraged”—he moved the hair from my neck—”crushed”—he grazed his nose across the skin below my ear—”Shall I keep going, Mia?”

All I could think about were his hands on me and his breath on my neck.

Yes, keep going, Ollie.

“I understand.”

Stupid, stupid mouth of mine.

Ollie released me from his hold and lay flat on his back behind me. It took all the strength I had to not climb on top of him. “So, how are we going to keep ourselves occupied?” I asked, wondering what was going through his mind, but then I remembered what Jake and Alicia had said. Their words replayed over and over. “Ollie doesn’t mess around. He’s not the type.”