Even when I'm gone

“We’re getting together for one last rendezvous in the woods as like a farewell … ” Tyler whispered after Dr. Conway took over a discussion in Ms. Chandlers classroom. A little over two weeks had passed since the funeral, but the chatter hadn’t dimmed. Tyler and Jude had another year here. Ollie, Jake, and I were leaving. I wondered how next year would go for her and Jude. They were unofficially official. Of course, Jake advised her of the curse of Dolor love, and to downplay the relationship, and keep the sweet moments to a minimum. “Jake and Liam said they’d go. You think Ollie would be down?”

“Yeah, he would.” Despite everything that had happened, Ollie was in good spirits. At any moment, I feared he’d crash, but Ollie did exactly what he said he was going to do. He smiled.

“I’m sure as hell going to miss you. I wish I could go back and change things … trust in the right people, ya know?” Tyler admitted.

“When you get out, come find me. I’ll be here. I’m only going back to the states to clear my name, and I’m flying right back. I’m staying in the UK.”

“Seriously?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I still can’t believe it either.”

Ms. Chandler walked around the classroom and collected textbooks off the corners of our desks, permitting us to leave once she’d passed by. Tyler and I stood together. “Ya moving in with Ollie? Where? It’s not like you guys have a place after you leave here, no?”

Too many questions too fast. I shoved my hands into the back pockets of my jeans and dropped my head, wishing I’d wore my hair down to hide the fact I had no idea what the future held. I supposed I’d have to look for a job. I never had a job before. Maybe I’d work as a waitress while Ollie worked on his poetry. We could get a small apartment somewhere. Did they have apartments here?

“They have a program after Dolor I hear. They get you set up in a place as a transition back into the real world. I mean,” Tyler shrugged as we stepped out into the hall, “you already qualify. A work program, too. They have a work program.” I kept quiet, feeling empty without having to carry my textbooks but my head heavy with new burdens I had no time to consider.

We’d made it a few feet away from the classroom, and Tyler paused at our usual spot to wait for Ollie. “I’ll figure it out,” I sighed and fidgeted with the hem of Ollie’s shirt I wore. “I always figure it out.”

“What’s up with that anyway?” Tyler asked. She fell back against the wall and looked down at the word printed across my chest. “Poetic,” she said slowly. “What does it even mean?”

“It’s Ollie’s,” I pulled the loose shirt away from my chest and looked down. “I’m starting to think he’s obsessed with this brand. Or word. Can’t be sure. He does write poetry, you know.”

“He’s a poetic?”

I arched a brow. “You mean a poet?”

“Bollocks. Okay, so he’s a poet who writes poetry, and I’m guessing poetic is the, what? Adjective to this whole clusterfuck?”

I laughed. “Something like that.”

“I don’t get it,” Tyler shook her head.

The presence behind me was unmistakable, and like a magnetic force field, Ollie and I leaned into one another. His warmth surrounded me. His minted breath hit the tip of my ear.

“Tyler,” Ollie greeted.

“Oliver,” she nodded.

“You see what just happened?” he asked her.

Tyler lifted off the wall. “Huh?”

“I hadn’t touched her, yet she drifted to me as if her body recognized mine was near. We are on the same wavelength. Same rhythm. This,” Ollie danced a finger across the nape of my neck, “This is the meaning of poetic.”

“Oh,” Tyler sighed, blushing. “I bet he’s poetic in bed.” She wiggled her brows at me, and I dropped my head into my hand.

A giggle tickled my throat.

“Why are you laughing?” Ollie asked. He sat up with his bare back against the wall and notebook in his lap, tapping the end of his pencil over the paper.

“Oh, nothing.”

I returned to my paper in front of me at the desk and jotted another word. Another laugh threatened to come up, and I pinched my lips together to force it back down, but it was no use. A cackle escaped, and I leaned forward in my chair.

“What is it? What are you doing over there?” Ollie pried with a curious smile.

A happy tear fell. “Okay, don’t make fun,” I warned, pointing my pencil at him.

“You want to point wood at each other?” Ollie lifted a brow. “Mine’s bigger.”

My jaw dropped, and I threw my pencil at him, and Ollie’s eyes followed the pencil flying clear across the room, but nowhere near hitting him. “Ace move, but I’m over here.” Ollie smiled. “Tell me. Why are you laughing.”

“I wrote you a poem,” I said with a shrug.

“You wrote me a poem,” he repeated, amused.

“Yes, but it’s really bad.”

Ollie dropped his pencil and relaxed against the wall. “Let’s hear it.”

“No way.”

Ollie lowered his chin and gave me those daydream eyes of his. “Please. No one’s written me a poem before.”

“There’s a reason why no one but you should write a poem.”

“I won’t laugh. Promise.”

“Fine.” I pumped my fist against my chest and cleared my throat.

“Roses are black

The skies are clear.

I get wet when you are near.

You’re the crack to my butt

The whiskey to my drunk.

How did I snag such a handsome hunk?”

My eyes lifted off my paper, and I waited for his reaction.

Ollie sucked in his lips and nodded once.

I tilted my head. “Say something.”

“Mia,” he choked, then paused to control his lips. His dimples pierced his cheeks. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Wow, Ollie has no words.”

“Utterly gobsmacked,” he agreed with an upside-down smile, partial chuckles blowing through his pressed lips.

“What did you write?”

Ollie held up a finger. “I’m going to need a minute, love.” I watched him as he stretched his legs out, adjusted himself, and rested his head against the concrete wall. He looked down, and my eyes followed to the erection in his sweats. “Are you wet right now?” he asked with a tilt of his head and his brow in the air. A grin expanded across his lips. “Because even though that poem was terrible, I can’t shake how wet you get when I’m near.”

I lifted a shoulder. “Maybe.”

“Come here,” he nudged his head.

Standing, I moved the pad of paper from my lap to the desk and walked over to the mattress until my knees hit the edge. The only two items covering me were my white panties and the Poetic shirt. Ollie’s gaze touched over every inch of my skin, claiming me. My eyes drifted closed, and I waited for him to touch me, for his hands to make the same journey where his eyes had roamed.

I heard the mattress move before his breath hit my neck. “How about now?” he whispered, and my insides shuddered in response. “Mia?” he questioned, and the slight graze of his erection through his sweats skimmed across the inside of my thigh.

Ollie tilted my chin up, and his tongue swept along my bottom lip. “Mia has no words?” he mocked and pulled my lip between his teeth before dropping his hand from my chin. I leaned forward to kiss him, and Ollie pulled away. “No, love. It’s my turn.”

Though my eyes stayed closed, I heard the smile in his tone. He lifted the shirt over my head, and his warm breath fell over my nipple before his tongue circled over it. Then he blew cold air, and my head rolled back. He moved over to my other nipple, and an electric current ran through me, dropping to my core.