All Along | ✓

Chapter Thirty

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"We never had to force love. We were drowning in it the moment we met."

- perry poetry

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Luna's POV

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Yeah, there's no fúcking way he'll ever like me as more than a friend. This is what I decide as Oli smiles down at me, opening up his front door. But I have to try to let him in anyway, because I still want him as my best friend. I need him as my best friend, at the very least. I don't know how I would survive otherwise.

I slip past him and walk inside, having a look around his new place. It's small but everything is new and pristine. It's got a cozy, safe feeling to it, but maybe that's just because Oli's here and I always feel that way around him.

"You like your new place?" I ask, still looking around.

I hear the front door close behind me before he speaks, "Yeah, it does the job." I roll my eyes at that. Oli's never been one for materialistic things. "You want anything to eat or drink?" He asks and I turn around to face him.

"No, thank you." I tell him with a little shake of my head.

He ignores that and starts walking into the kitchen, "I'll make you some hot chocolate."

I follow after him, a little laugh escaping me, "I'm fine, Oli. I don't need anything."

"I have the mini marshmallows you love." He says, turning to look at me over his shoulder.

That shuts me up. I huff. "Fine. Thank you."

"My pleasure, Little One." He gives me the softest smile that makes my heart start beating faster and I have to quickly look away before I blurt out something stupid.

I sit up on the barstool at his counter, watching silently as he walks about his kitchen, making my drink. He's in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, his toned torso on display. I'm almost having heart palpations just at the sight of him. I've known Oli for a long time and I've seen him shirtless more times than I can count. But he's not a teenage boy any more. This is the toned abdomen and back muscles of a thirty-year-old man. His skin is tan and smooth, deep ridges of muscle that immediately capture my attention.

Eleven-year-old me thought my best friend was cute. Twenty-six-year-old me thinks my best friend is hot as fúck.

I tear my eyes and thoughts away from his toned body when a mug of hot chocolate slides in front of me. There's a little mountain of mini marshmallows piled atop the steaming drink and a smile pulls at my lips. Looking up, I catch Oli's gaze and aim that smile at him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," He murmurs with a nod and I notice his harsh swallow, my eyes tracking the movement of his Adam's apple. He braces his hands on the counter in front of him, keeping his eyes on the counter as he asks, "So what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?"

I swallow a mouthful of marshmallows and hot chocolate, averting my gaze to the mug in my hands. This suddenly seems a lot more real and a lot more scary. This isn't exactly a fun conversation to have and I don't know how he'll react.

After gathering my thoughts for a moment, I look up at him and take in a small breath. "I think we need to have a serious chat about our friendship, Oli." I tell him bluntly, watching his eyes immediately snap up to me. I continue quickly, "A lot has changed since you went to college, and although we've seen each other in that time and talked all the time... We're different now and we've both just been dancing around it. We need to talk about this."