Addicted

Ch.1

Hopping off the counter, she grabbed her glass and headed toward her bedroom in search of a change of clothes. Setting the glass on her nightstand she stripped from her day and went to her drawer, pulling out a pair of leggings and a loose t-shirt as she heard the pounding on her door.

"Coming," she called out, pulling up the leggings and then the shirt over her head. She knew who it was long before she looked through the peep hole and threw open the door. "Elliot...what are you doing here?"

He shrugged and held up a plastic take out bag as a way of explaining.

"Come in," she sighed, stepping off to the side so that he could make his way through the door. The brush of his arm against hers sending a shiver down her spine.

Elliot went to the kitchen, shrugging his coat off his shoulders and going to her cabinets, pulling down two plates. He opened the cartons of Chinese food and dumped some out on each plate, hyper aware of the woman who was leaning against bar watching his every move. He set the containers up and peered up at her, chancing a glance and hoping to gauge her mood.

"Hungry?" He asked, pulling out a drawer and getting two forks.

She nodded, "Beer?"

"Please," he replied, taking their plates into the living room.

Popping the top off of two beers, she followed him into the living room, setting down his beer and taking her plate from the table as she sat down on the love seat.

They sat in silence for a while, each consumed by their own thoughts. There was never really an awkward silence between them but something in the air wasn't quite settling. The unanswered questions and feelings leaving a charged energy in the room.

She wanted to know why he came to her apartment but she wanted to enjoy the quiet time...with him. Just being near Elliot was enough to calm her but added a new dimension to all she felt, the draw she had to him was as present as ever.

He took a big swig from his beer, looking at her from over the bottle and allowing himself the thoughts that were running through his mind. Olivia was beautiful and she meant more to him than he would have ever expected.

"Liv," he sighed, scrubbing his hands down his face as she turned her attention to him.

"Hmm," she hummed, suddenly feeling self conscious. She sat back into the chair, pulling hers legs underneath of her and resting her head in her hand, waiting for him to continue. She realized that he was struggling with where to begin, trying to find the right words before he spoke again.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, turning his head so he could see her.

"Why didn't you tell me about her? After everything you know about me, about my mom," she asked and he knows he's hurt her by the tone of her voice.

If he really thought about it, there's not a clear answer, he doesn't have a real reason as to why he's never talked about his mother. There's a fleeting thought that passes through his mind, he wanted to be strong for her, let her come to him with her problems and not dump his baggage on her.

"It was a long time ago...I don't let it bother me anymore but I should have told you...you should have known," he admitted quietly, his elbows resting against his thighs.

Olivia nodded, her fingers gliding along the beer bottle, "What was harder?" His brow furrowed so she explained further, "Dealing with your mom or dad."

"Dad," he says almost immediately. "He made the choices he did...they were intentional. My mom is the way she is because that's just how it is, she didn't chose the disease...I know she never wanted to hurt me."