Brett's POV
"Kids, am I right?", John laughed, swigging his beer back. I just watched him, I couldn't even think of what to say.
But my mouth opened before I could decide what it was that would be appropriate to say.
"Olivia isn't a kid, John."
"Excuse me?", His gaze snapped to mine. His tone was harsh.
I swallowed the things that I so very badly wanted to reply with, but denied myself the right to say them, it would have been inappropriate and stupid. I had to be smart about this, and I had to keep my feelings in check.
"I just mean that she's nineteen-years-old man, she's going to have an opinion," I swallowed a mouthful of my own beer. "She's entitled to one," I add with a curt shrug. Casual, good.
There was this rage inside of me that was fighting it's way out of me. I would never speak to my daughter like that, not unless she was being life-threateningly stupid. Which Olivia was not. I understand John not wanting her to know what business we are in, but that is not a reason for him to be a dick.
"Is she?", He joked.
I couldn't contain the shock that took over my features. My eyebrow lifted and my lips pressed together tightly.
There was so many things that I wanted to say.
Instead, I force a laugh. "How old are you again?", I ask, a little harshly.
"Forty," He answered with a sly grin.
I didn't reply, I just finished the rest of my beer, containing the rage that was building in the pit of my stomach. I placed the glass bottle down and watched John finish his.
"It's Liv's birthday Saturday," He says. I resist the urge to say I know - that would be incredibly creepy and weird.
"Oh yeah?"
"Kelly wants to know if it'd be okay if we came over for dinner? You know a little get together? It would be a surprise of course.", John explains.
"That sounds fine," Is all I can manage to say without letting my anger show.
I wanted to go and find Olivia and make sure that she was okay, but I couldn't. It kills me to just stand here and talk to her father when I know she's probably upstairs upset about what just happened. It upsets me that I can't openly defend her without it being suspicious.
"Alright, well I'll see you then.", John sends me a sharp nod.
"Yeah man.", I reply and watch him leave. I just stand there, staring at the kitchen door, until I hear the front door shut behind him. Sighing, I close my eyes. My hands grip the counter before me and I take a few deep breathes.
After taking a minute or two to calm myself down, I headed upstairs and made my way to her bedroom door.
Come on, just knock dammit.
My knuckle lifts and knocks against the wooden door twice. There was no answer, it was just deathly silent. "Olivia, it's me." I say out into the silence. And just like that, the door opens before me. Looking down at the brunette girl before me, I see that her face is puffy and red, she'd been crying or was going too.
I didn't know what to say.
"I'm sorry Olivia."
A broken sob escapes her lips but she covers it up with a small sigh. "It's not your fault Brett.", She whispers eventually, her tear-glazed eyes peering up into mine. She looked up at me with such trust and respect that it was unnerving.
Every single time I met her gaze it unnerved me. Undid me, even. Most things that she did undid me, and it fucking terrified me. She was nineteen and my friends daughter. It was wrong in so many ways, but what I felt for her wasn't solely lust. I still wasn't sure if that made my feelings for her any better, or if it made it worse.
I didn't know what to say to make her feel better. I just know that I want to see her smile, or hear her laugh or tease me. I wanted anything but this. I don't like this. I fucking hate this - this sad look of despair in her beautiful brown eyes was killing me.
I wasn't good at talking, but I could hold her. Yes.
And just as the thought crosses my mind, my hands lift up so slowly, making sure she had time to step away if she wanted too. One of my hands gently meet the skin on her neck, whilst the other touches the top of her arm.
Her eyes watch me carefully, not moving from my gaze.
I stroked her neck lightly, my rough fingers moving against her soft skin so gently. My touch was so faint that I was afraid she wouldn't feel the soothing motion at all, but then her eyes fluttered shut. And I knew she felt it.
My thumb began to move against her upper arm too, and I just watched her melt and relax into my touch. Into me. Her head leaned into my chest and I felt her sob there. Wrapping my arms around her, I held her to my body, holding her and comforting her as best as I could.
It was a sin for me to touch her, even like this. Even with such an innocent thing, like a hug, should be a crime for us. But here we were - holding each other whilst she cried into my shirt. I felt her tiny hands clutching the shirt that clung to my back.
I let her grip the material and just stroked the back of her head, and her back, letting her cry.
A small part of me knew that she wasn't just upset about her dad, but she was upset about Connor and about me and what we felt. She was upset about the fact that we could never openly be whatever it was that we wanted to be.
It upset me too. Fuck, it kills me.
Not as much as it pains me to see her like this. "You shouldn't cry Olivia, it isn't worth your tears. Nothing is worth your tears." I say and mean it.
I feel her move against me and then her eyes were looking up at me again. Those eyes. Those eyes will be the absolute death of me. She was looking up at me and she trusted me. She looked up at me and I knew that it was wrong for me to abuse that trust, but she felt it too.
We both felt his - whatever this is.
My stomach twisted when her hand came up to my cheek. I should have stepped away, or pushed her away, or said something to stop her. I just watched her, silently. Awaiting whatever it was that she decided. This was up to her, everything that would ever happen, will be her choice. Not mine. I would never lead her into something.
"Brett?," She was breathless and my heart hammered against my chest at the sound.
The way she said my name undid me too.
I tilted my head, placing my own hand on her neck, my fingers caressing her jawline. "Yes Olivia?", I finally say, my own voice lower and quieter.
"I uh-", She swallows. Hard.
I wanted to tell her to finish her sentences, but I pushed that comment down into the depths of my chest, ignoring the need to be in control. For her, I would be vulnerable. She needed me to be vulnerable, I needed to be vulnerable - especially when it comes to her.
Her fingers move from my cheek, to my lips. My breath caught in my throat and I watched her eyes, watching her own fingers touch my lips.
We'd shared looks before and I'd kissed her neck the other night in the kitchen but this was something else. She was looking at me with that look that only made me think of things that I should not be thinking about.
"Olivia," I warn, my own voice trembling with anticipation. Whatever she was thinking, was wrong and it shouldn't happen. It couldn't.
"Just once," She pleads, her gaze meeting mine. Fucked - I was so fucked.
I resisted the urge to obey and kiss her, but instead tried to talk us out of this. Talk me out of this. "We both know that just once, doesn't really mean just once.", My voice was so low, and the need for her was coursing through my veins.
Every inch of me itched to be touched by her, and to touch her.
Her fingers still ran across the length of my lips and I let her. She was fascinated with them. I let her be fascinated, and I let her touch them, even though every inch of my mind knew that it was wrong. My body wouldn't stop her, it couldn't.
"I hate this, how I feel around you all of the time," Something flashed in her eyes and I saw it. I wasn't sure of what it was, but that look was electrifying. "I hate how badly I want you and I hate that I can't have you and I hate myself even more for all of it.", She said.
"Don't hate yourself," I tell her.
"If I don't hate myself, then I have no one else to blame...", Her gaze shifted between my lips and my eyes.
"Blame me. Hate me."
"I couldn't blame you for this...", She swallows, her fingers finally moving away from my lips. She plants her hand firmly against my chest, right where that tattoo lay.
Shut up and take it. My friends made me get it years ago, during my fuckboy phase, and I don't regret getting it, but in moments like this I did.
"You can hate me for it though.", I cup her tiny face in my large hands. "So hate me."
Olivia swallows, and her gaze meets mine, staying there now. "I do hate you.", She admits. "I hate you for being so perfect.", She laughs a little, but the sadness returns in her gaze. My heart breaks. How did this get so fucking messed up?
"Say it again," My voice is a whisper.
She obeys. "I hate you.", She repeats gently. It was a lie - we both knew it. I just wanted to distract her from feeling badly about herself. She was truly amazing. "I hate you.", She says it again on her own accord. I see her eyes light up. It was as if they were aflame. Something alive shone in them.
"That's it.", I smile weakly.
"I hate you for not kissing me.", Her voice was shaky. "I hate you for not touching me and admitting how you feel. I hate you for making me want you. I hate you for looking at me like you do. I hate you for running away whenever things get too much between us. I hate you for all of it.", She says.
It wasn't harsh. She was breaking down. Each and every word that fell from those plumped lips was a broken sob, a plea for help.
"You hate me?", I tease.
"Don't do that.", She glares at me, her stare hard.
"Do what?", I act innocent, smirking down at her. This. This banter was what made me feel alive. It wasn't always sexual tension between us, we could laugh with each other.
And I hated myself for even thinking this but... Katherine and I barely laughed together. We barely ever did...
"Treat me like I'm a child.", She pouts and I chuckle.
"Stop pouting then, and I'll consider treating you like one.", I continue smirking.
"Dick.", She shoots at me, giggling.
There it was. That laugh. That fucking perfect laugh. I could feel it in my bones, that laughter vibrated every part of me. My heart and soul, my mind and even my fucking cock. "I love seeing you smile.", I whisper.
Oliva looks taken aback by my confession, but I couldn't care less.
She undid me - and I wanted her to know it.