London Fog | school hiatus

Ch. 8

When I woke up, Jay wasn't in the bed with me. I didn't mind, though, because he has a life outside of me and I don't want to take away from that.

I traveled downstairs, wrapped in the quilt from upstairs, into the kitchen and pulled out a bar stool and just sat for a while. I mulled over last night, recapping everything in my mind. I told Jay that I liked him. More importantly, I realized just how much I liked him. Even more importantly than that, he told me he liked me. Just the thought sent a shiver down my spine and ended with a small dance of celebration. My lungs felt like they were about to explode and my heart rate was up. I couldn't wipe the smile off my face.

I had just sat down on a bar stool when the doorbell rang. I would've usually been annoyed with whoever was on the other side of the door, but I was in too good of a mood to let the doorbell get to me.

"Hey, Oliver," I said, pulling the door open. "What's up?"

"I would love to come in, thank you," he said sarcastically, brushing past me. I raised my eyebrows and had to resist asking him what crawled up his butt.

"I'll get Jen for you," I offer, turning to the staircase.

"Don't," he ordered. I raised an eyebrow at him and he pulled on a fake smile. It looked like pulling the face hurt him. "I came to talk to you."

"And to what do I owe the pleasure?" I asked, crossing my arms and walking to my favorite armchair, while Oliver sat on the couch.

"I just need someone to talk to."

"What's wrong?" I asked, assuming the worst.

"It's not like that," he assured me. "I just get lonely at my flat."

A flood of relief rushed through me. "So you came all the way here? To chat?"

"When you say it like that it sounds desperate," he whined. "But yes."

"Okay. Talk."

"Let's say I like this girl that you may or may not know. Let's also say that she has a boyfriend. But also put into perspective that some other dashing young gentleman likes her as well. What would you tell the dashing young gentleman to do?"

"Depends. Is she happy with the boyfriend or indifferent?"

"I would say indifferent," he nodded.

"Who's her boyfriend?"

"Does it matter if she isn't happy?"

"Guess not. Sweep Jen off her feet, Oli."

"It's not Jen. We don't like each other like that," he explained.

"Are you sure?" I teased. "Because I really like the idea of you two."

"I checked," he mumbled impatiently.

"Oh. Then sweep whoever it is off her feet," I said, trying to get away from the uncomfortableness.

"Really? What would I do in a romance book?"

"Meet her at a park, or some other lovely place. Make sure she's there before you are, and when she isn't looking, come up behind her and hit her in the back of the knees with the handle of your broom of choice."

"That's not funny."

"It kind of was." My reply was greeted with an unamused stare. "Okay, sorry, I don't know... Uh, what bands does she like?"

"Bastille, Fall Out Boy, and I think Avicii."

"Concert tickets."

A look of awe crossed Oliver's face. "Thank you! You're the best," he complimented.