14: The Lurking Monster

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We tried several times over the following days to see if Olivia could sleep at home. But every time the lights were out and I was quiet, despite still hearing each other's breathing over the phone, she'd ask me again to come get her.

During the days, she was fine. The memories of that night seemed to be pushed into her subconscious, and my sudden continuous presence in her life had ignited a joy in her that hadn't even been around before that terrible thing had happened. I liked that I instilled such happiness in her, even if I knew it was wrong... or what dangerous feelings it could lead to.

But it was at night when the monster lurking in her brain came out to scare her.

We presented our speech on Romeo and Juliet without any problems, receiving our grades by Friday that were more than delightful. And this time, instead of walking her home and trying the whole routine of getting her to sleep at her house once we left campus grounds, I placed a hand on her shoulder and started leading her to mine.

"I don't have any clothes," was her rebuttal, instead of asking where we were going or that she should try going home...

I tried, and failed, to stifle the smile. "You have plenty at mine now. I can throw them in the wash and dryer tonight."

"Okay," she whispered, linking her arm around mine.

· · ───── ∘☽༓☾∘ ───── · ·

When we got back to my place and walked into the foyer, Olivia asked me, "So... what are your plans this evening?" Normally we weren't together this early in the night. She'd come around in the late hours after trying and failing to sleep, then we'd both lay in my bed, pillow fort between us, and drift off while holding hands.

"Um... no clue," I muttered, kicking off my shoes and walking over to the couch, Olivia close behind me. "You?"

"No clue... Do you have any assignments?"

"Nothing pressing... you?"

"Nothing pressing..."

We sat in silence, staring at the floor for a moment. Then an idea sprung to mind. "Want to... see a movie?"

Turning to face me, she grinned and nodded. "That would be nice."

· · ───── ∘☽༓☾∘ ───── · ·

We exited the theatre, still discussing at length the magical justifications in the reboot of the Harry Potter world—with cinemas now in their final runs of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

"I think they set up this world better," she argued.

Rolling my eyes, I replied, "I just feel like the magic is limitless. A whole farm and world in a suitcase to store magical creatures? It's absurd."

"It's magic," she emphasised, like she understood.

"But everything needs to have parameters to be believable. I feel like all they have in their universe are the three spells that are 'forbidden' and other than that something new keeps coming up then later forgotten just to make a plot point. Like—"

But then I stopped talking. Because as we walked out onto the street on our way to fetch dinner, a familiar face in the distance caught my attention. Black hair glistening in the night as she walked with Jade and Faye towards the restaurant down the road.

"Shit," I whispered.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Grabbing Olivia's arm, I began pulling her in the other direction.

"Where are you taking me?" she huffed as I dragged her further. "Lukas, let me go," she half shouted.

Coming to my senses, I dropped my hold on her. "Olivia... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Explain right now what's got you so worked up or I'm going to be really mad at you for handling me like that." Her face frowned, but behind her eyes was that familiar swirl of concern.

With a sigh, I said, "One of my exes is over there and I've been avoiding her. If she sees me out with you..."

"It will upset her and you don't want to do that," she finished for me.

"Exactly," I said, leaving out the part where I didn't want anyone to know Olivia existed yet. Because the fewer people in my world who knew of her and our bond invitation, the safer she'd be from my uncle. Considering it was my own father who revealed Anja's identity last time, no one could be trusted.

"Okay," she breathed, hooking her arm around mine. "Then let's get out of here." 

As we briskly walked away from the cinema, I kept casting glances over my shoulder to ensure she didn't see us. 

And we almost made it. 

Olivia rounded the corner first, but in my last stare back at her, our eyes met and her face dropped as she saw Olivia's arm wrapped around mine.

· · ───── ∘☽༓☾∘ ───── · ·

"So," Olivia started as we lay in bed that night, the darkness consuming us. "How long were you and your ex together?" Her heat was thudding in loud echoes around the room as she anticipated my response.

Pausing slightly, wondering if it was right to talk about my past relationships with her without making her jealous, I finally breathed, "Two years."

"Two?" she responded a little loudly. And while she thought her facial expressions were safe concealed in the night, I watched her brows furrow and her eyes cast downwards.

Wanting to see the light return to her gaze, I gave her more information than she asked for. "We tried for so long because she thought she could get through to me. But, in the end, I just could never open up to her. We never had that... spark, you know?" The magical bond kind that Olivia and I created the day we met.

Her heart gave a louder thud as her eyes drifted back up to me, swirling between hope and hesitancy.

And to quell any further doubts she was having—though I knew it was wrong to go there—I said, "I could never talk openly with her like this."

"No?" she breathed, eyes glistening with promise.

Shaking my head in response, I reached for her hand, pulling it on top of the pillow fort. "I'm glad I met you, Olivia. And I'm glad you still waited me out even though I tried pushing you away. With you, I feel like I can be my true self." 

While the words slipped out of my mouth as I spoke about my heart, they also left an acidic taste in my mouth as I realised I had lied. Because I wasn't being my true self. She didn't know all the things about me that might send her running. The things that she may make her fear me more than the man from the alleyway.

 The things that she may make her fear me more than the man from the alleyway

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