The Desire Variable | Rewrite

⸻ TWENTY-TWO ⸻

Because I can't keep staring at the yogurts and meal boxes like this, I grab my pad thai and straighten up. I jump at the sight of Oli right on the other side of the fridge I just closed. "Hi," he says with a forced grin.

"Hi." My smile probably looks as fake as his. He follows me to the microwave.

"I'm glad to see you're fine. Tammy seemed very worried yesterday."

"Yeah, I messed up. I should have warned her." I shove my opened box in the microwave, which smells like fish once more. Dammit, stop with the weird dishes already, people.

"You know, you shouldn't microwave your things in plastic. It's carcinogenic."

I stare at him with a blank expression. Small talk won't make this any less weird. "Look, Oli, I—"

"It's fine. You don't have to justify yourself," he cuts me. He stops and passes his hand on the back of his head to distractedly scratch it, looking at the floor. "I'm not going to pretend I'm not a little hurt. I really like you, but it's your life and your choices. I keep thinking about our date, and I can't help but regret not going upstairs with you. And I feel like shit for it because I know you told me how overwhelmed you are and all."

I'm tongue-tied when he meets my eyes again, unsure what to say or do. Like him, I wish we could go from great friends to great lovers, but things aren't this simple.

"I never wanted to hurt you," I say, hoping it can ease his bruised emotions.

"I know. I'm not blaming you; just trying to make peace with it. It doesn't matter what you do before, as long as you're over it when we happen," he explains, his hands tucked in his front pockets. I nod, my brows frowning with uneasiness.

I'm such a selfish asshole.

My food rings behind me, so I take it out rapidly. With my cancer-induced meal in hand, I wonder how the hell I can make this situation better.

"I can't promise I'll ever be ready. I like you, Oli, I really do. But I can't be sure I'll ever like you like that," I say with my free hand on his shoulder, trying to be as gentle as possible.

Oli processes my words for a moment, his expression slightly confused and worried. "I get it, don't worry. I can handle that sort of thing."

I can almost believe him, but his eyes look so sad.

With a heavy heart, I give him a small smile and go sit with Dakota, Jay, Soo, and a few others.

I eat in silence, my mind preoccupied. Something tells me I'll never desire Oliver like I desire Lex. In twenty-six years, I never came even close to what Lex makes me feel. I never knew even a semblance of my carnal needs for him.

Is there even a single person in this world who can make me burn inside as Alexander Coleman could?

***

The massive load of work that we have to take care of leaves little to no room for distraction. By the end of each day, my brain is fried, so I leave for home as soon as I can. I'm too tired to want anything other than to go to bed. Alone.

As time passes, I can't help but try to rationalize things. It's logical that after ten months without any sort of physical contact with a man, I was particularly receptive and sensitive. Sure, Lex knew precisely what to do and how to do it, but my intense reaction to him was most likely due to my prolonged abstinence.

And anyway, Lex doesn't give me more of these intense, bone-melting moments where he knowingly reduces me to putty. No, he remains cold and distant—which he's tremendous at. I'm left alone with my fantasies and desires, discreetly looking at him when he isn't paying attention, getting all horny with the lewd flashbacks my mind conjures on an hourly basis.