Chapter 90: The Girlfriend Situation
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By the time I finished closing up the flower shop, I was completely wiped out.
My shoulders were screaming from lifting deliveries all afternoon, and my feet felt like they were ready to file a formal complaint against me. My brain was barely functioning, operating on what felt like basic survival mode.
The only thing keeping me going was the thought of getting back to Preston Hall, eating whatever Damien had cooked, and crashing into bed for the next twelve hours, maybe fourteen if my body played along and Damien wasn’t busy enough.
I locked the front door, checked it twice out of habit, and turned around—
Only to nearly bump into Melanie.
"Oliver!"
Crap...
She lit up when she saw me, not just smiled, but beamed. It was the kind of glow that could probably light up a small city if you set it up right. Before I could take in what was happening, she wrapped her arms around my neck, warm and genuine.
I felt undeserving of such a reaction from anyone from seeing me.
"Babe, I missed you."
Instantly, my exhaustion morphed into guilt, and honestly, that was becoming a familiar feeling lately.
I hadn’t seen much of her in the past couple of weeks, between my classes, the shop, hospital visits, and the complicated situation with Damien, our schedules had been a hit-or-miss overlap.
"Hey," I replied, hugging her back, my voice softer and more apologetic than I meant it to be.
She pulled back just enough to look me in the eye, her face bright and a touch hopeful. "I feel like we barely see each other these days, let’s go do something."
I blinked. "Right now?"
God, I was so fucking exhausted. But I couldn’t really say no to that bright smile of hers.
"Yep, right now." Her smile grew even wider. "Come on, let’s have a real date. Not just a quick catch-up between your shifts!"
Every tired part of me wanted to say no. I thought about my feet filing that complaint and how they deserved a hearing. But then I remembered my dad, asking about her again, the third time this week.
His eyebrows raised with that hopeful curiosity he always had when he thought I might be doing something good for myself. I thought of how patient Melanie had been with all the canceled plans and late texts, how I often showed up exhausted and distracted, yet she never made me feel guilty for it, even when I probably should have felt that way.
And well, guilt won out. It usually did these days.
"Sure," I said.
Her face lit up as if I’d just given her the best news possible. "Really?"
I chuckled, the sound coming out softer than I expected. "Yeah, really. So what do you want to do?"
For the next hour, we grabbed some food from a nearby place and settled into a booth by the window, one of those laid-back spots that smelled like grilled onions and felt cozy.
Most of the conversation came from Melanie, not because she talked a lot, but because I was barely keeping up with basic conversation at that point.
She shared a funny story about a professor who accidentally sent the entire class an answer key two days before the tests, which turned into a campus-wide ethical debate.
Then she talked about her roommate’s hair dye disaster that ended up splattering half the bathroom with a shade of green that shouldn’t exist. She even mentioned a movie she wanted us to watch together...something with subtitles that she promised would change my life.
I listened and laughed where I was supposed to. I think I even asked her questions, though the details blurred together later, my mind wandering at intervals I didn’t quite track.
Every time I felt my attention slipping, I felt worse about it. Melanie deserved better than half of me distracted by a tired body and a cloudy mind.
She deserved someone who was fully there, not someone zoning out while staring at a french fry, lost in thoughts about whether Damien had eaten dinner yet or if he’d find the leftover pasta in the fridge when he came back from his classes.
"Oliver?"
"Hm?" I blinked back to the present.
Melanie was watching me, her brow slightly furrowed. "You okay?"
"Yeah." I forced a smile that probably didn’t quite work. "Just a bit tired."
Her expression softened, filled with sympathy instead of hurt. "You work too hard."
That wasn’t new. I’d heard that from her, Maya, and even my dad during his recovery, all telling me the same thing, but hearing it from her struck something deep in my chest.
She wasn’t wrong, and being reminded of that by someone who deserved better than the half-hearted version of me felt heavier than it should have.
Yeah, I truly was undeserving of her. I started to wish she hadn’t met me at all. She would be happier with someone who be as obsessed with her as much as she was with me...
The walk back to her dorm was pleasant enough. The evening had settled into that comfortable autumn chill where a jacket felt nice but not necessary.
Familiar campus sounds surrounded us, distant music from open windows, groups of students chatting as they crossed the quad, and the occasional skateboard clacking on the pavement.
Melanie slipped her hand into mine. I squeezed gently, and she smiled at me. For a little while, everything felt simple in that way it should...easy, warm, uncomplicated.
That is, until we reached Callington Hall.
"Hey, I want to show you something." She paused near the entrance, the overhead light highlighting her face, and looked at me with this expression I couldn’t quite place...some mix of nerves and hope, a small excitement she was trying to keep contained.
"D...do you um...want to come up?"
I shrugged. "Sure."
Honestly, I thought she just wanted some company for a movie or to talk more about the bathroom incident. My brain, running on fumes, hadn’t connected any other dots.
That would soon prove to be a big mistake.
A few minutes later, I was perched on the edge of her bed while she disappeared into the bathroom. Her room was cozy and totally her, fairy lights hung along one wall, a collection of succulents on the windowsill, and photos tucked around a mirror. I glanced around a bit, then checked my phone out of habit.
Nothing from Damien.
That was unusual enough to make me frown at the screen for a second, my thumb hovering over the messages app. Then I caught myself and put my phone face-down on the bed.
The bathroom door opened.
I looked up.
And my brain short-circuited.
Melanie stood in the doorway, looking a little nervous and hopeful, and honestly, stunning. She was dressed in delicate black lace lingerie, a bra that barely held her and matching panties that hugged her hips just right, the sheer fabric revealing almost everything.
The fairy lights bounced off her skin, highlighting the curve of her waist and how the lace clung to her body.
Oh...