The Older Man (BoyxBoy)

Thirteen

Ollie

            He’s acting like a madman. He’s making this—everything so hard. Here I am, trying to be supportive and prevent him from doing something stupid. There he is, thinking anything but logically. My goodness, I don’t know what to do. And that model chick, Jessie, I think her name is. In my eyes, she could ruin him. In Ian’s eyes, she’s just an innocent woman who’s a victim to the fame. I had rolled my eyes when he said that. She’s not an “innocent woman who’s a victim to the fame”. She’s a greedy twat. Point blank.

            He was giving me a headache. I told him that. His response was telling me that there’s something that can fix that. I kicked him out of my office, then, but made him take the back exit and told Don to bring the car around for him. I didn’t want anyone seeing him leave. He spent at least an hour with me.  I have let go off of everything and I want to be with him because I want to be with him. Now, everything I think about being with him and making him and I an us again all I see is trouble.  And that makes me want to say no to him. I know he’s going to ask tonight again. He asked when he called me last night after he left, he asked when he text me this morning, and he asked right when he was leaving my office.

            If I say yes then I know deep inside my heart that he’ll do anything and everything to keep us together, which means the chances of him being hurt in the long run by the public—the media, Jessie…those chances are tripled. I don’t know how I would survive knowing that I was the cause of all his problems, and that if I didn’t take the internship he would have been perfectly fine.

            I sighed deeply as I climbed the stairs to my apartment. It was almost six and Ian said he would be here at six to make me dinner. How sweet, I thought sarcastically. There are bigger things to worry about than making me dinner. “Mad man,” I muttered, turning the key and opening in the door.

            “Hey, love!” he greeted, cheerily. A gasp flew past my lips and I quickly swallowed my heart. What is wrong with this man?

            “How did you get in here? Gosh, you scared the shit out of me.”

            “Well, you kicked me out of your office so I went to the grocery store and came back here, that’s when I noticed I forgot to ask you for the key. I was waiting for thirty minutes then I got fed up and picked the lock and started cooking,” he shrugged. No big deal. No big deal.

            “How do you even know how to pick a lock…never mind. I’m going to shower,” I told him. He’s going to make me lose it. I dropped my bag in my office, went to my bedroom, grabbed some clothes and walked to the bathroom. I glanced him in the kitchen, stirring whatever and humming to himself. “Mad man.”

            There was a bottle of champagne chilling when I got out the shower. I wore dark jeans, a plain light blue dress shirt and socks. Ian was dressed similarly just…better…more fashionable.

            I opened the cabinet, reaching for two champagne glasses when I felt Ian’s body pressing right against me. “Taste this,” he said softly, pushing a spoon to my mouth. I rolled my eyes. Seriously. Was it necessary to be all upon me like that? I opened my mouth and tasted it.

            “Hmm,” I hummed softly, and then chuckled as the familiar taste hit me with all kinds of feelings. “Brazilian food? Really?”

            “Sim.” Great, now he speaks Portuguese. “If we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together, I have to be able to cook what you like right? I have to know how to keep you happy in more ways than one.”