The Older Man (BoyxBoy)

Four

OLIVER

            I hate him. I hate him so much. How the fuck does one tell you he’s falling in love with you then disappear for a whole fucking week without as much as a phone call? The fuck? I know he’s a busy man but if I had meant anything at all to him he would have found one minute to at least call to tell me hello. That’s all.

            Even though Mr. Stone wasn’t in the office I still had to go to work. Without him there, there wasn’t much that I had to do. Usually I just followed him around, did what he asked, offered my opinion when he asked for it. All I did this past week was help Cynthia. With Mr. Stone gone there’s a lot of back up work for him. There are some things in this company that no one except for Mr. Stone can take care of, being as it's his company.

            Trying to avoid Tommy, I made my way to the office earlier than usual. The doors weren’t open, prompting me to swipe my ID card into the slot and wait for it. Once opened, it locked automatically once I was inside. Triggered by my movements, the lobby was illuminated brightly.

            After what Mr. Stone said to me the morning I last saw and heard from him, if I had to leave the house in a rush, I went to the office to make my coffee instead of buying it from a coffee shop or on the street. Such a waste. I felt his presence as I was stirring the steaming liquid in a mug. Did I acknowledge it? Not a chance in his hot sexy British hell.

            Leaning his ass on the counter next to me, Mr. Stone crossed his arms over his chest and studied me. Not once did I turn my head to look at him. Thanks to my peripheral I saw most of his actions without having to look at him.

            “Good morning, Ollie,” he said, making my stomach churn with desire from the nickname rolling off of his tongue.

            Composing myself, I continued to stir the hell out of the coffee that was already mixed and said, “Good morning, Mr. Stone,” I responded purposely. He said nothing after that. 

            I was so busy cursing him out in my head that I didn’t see him move behind me, his hands resting on the counter top on either side of my body.

            Have you ever seen the State Farm commercial with the hot tub guy? That’s how I felt. I wouldn’t act it out, obviously. I was mad at him.

            “You’re mad,” he whispered in my ear, breathing heavily. This time I wasn’t able to hide the effect as I shivered. He pressed himself closer to me. I had to hold on to the counter top to keep my feet from giving out from underneath me.

            “Yes,” I confirmed, much firmer than I felt I could.

            “I don’t blame you,” he continued to whisper. “I have no excuse. I was going through a tough time and instead of calling you to tell you what was going on I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

            “You didn’t feel you could count on me? I would’ve been there for you if you needed me…maybe you didn’t.” It was so hard for me to turn around and look into his eyes. I’m afraid of what I might see there.

            “I did need you,” he said. “I do need you, but at the time I didn’t know how to—I’ve never felt like I needed anyone before, and I didn’t know if you would’ve been there…”

            “I would’ve.”

            “Why?”

            Now I did turn around, staring into his eyes. “Because the feeling is mutual.”