The Start of Something Ch. 03

Author's note: this is the third and final chapter of an enemies-to-lovers erotic romance, told from the perspective of Lexi. I've put this chapter in the Romance category, because there's no sex in this story. Enjoy!

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It's been almost two months, and Oliver and I talk nearly every day. We see each other every weekend, sleep over at least twice a week, and text constantly. I slowly start to relax into him, into our relationship. I'm starting to feel like maybe it's ok to really trust him.

Until now. Until this past week. He's been different this week. Distant. Unavailable. Gone is the Oliver of before, the Oliver who showed me such kindness and affection and desire. He used to call or text me every day, he used to always ask when he could see me next, and he'd always thank me for making time to see him. He appreciated me.

But not this week. For the past week and a half, I've always been the one to reach out, have always been the one to ask for a date. And he's been aloof, ignoring me for days on end, sending short responses, telling me he's too busy see me. No explanation, no plans for a later time. Just, "Sorry babe, I have a lot going on. Talk later?"

A few days ago, I finally texted, "Is everything ok?"

But that was a mistake. A few hours later, he wrote back: "Sorry, can't talk now. I'll text tomorrow." But of course, he never did.

If I didn't care about him so much, if I didn't think about him so much, it would be ok. It would be disappointing, it would maybe hurt a bit, but it wouldn't be a big deal. Relationships fizzle. This would just be great sex—easy enough to find with a different partner. It would have been fine.

But this isn't just great sex. It never was, from the very first moment he held me close and comforted me. From that moment on, I was done for.

I started falling for him, just a little bit, that very first night. How did I miss what was right in front of me? He had never been emotionally available: I saw what I'd wanted to see.

I was taken in by his intensity, by the sex, by all those stupid brain chemicals that make you think someone has real feelings for you, and that you're not just someone they want to fuck. Somehow, things stopped being so easy for him. He got "busy." He had a choice, and he didn't choose me.

The thought always makes me want to choke back a sob.

I've always known I get attached easily, and I'd thought I'd been so fucking careful this time. Especially when the sex was like this. Raw and rough and passionate and emotional and intense. It made me believe we had something real. Not a fantasy. Not a delusion.

But now I know: he was never really mine.

. . . . .

It's Sunday night, and finally, Oliver has asked for a date. My heart fluttered when I saw the text, when I finally saw his interest in me, but I forced myself to stay calm and steady. Yes, I had wanted him to be someone I could trust, someone I could rely on. But now I know... he just isn't that.

And now, he's sitting next to me on the couch, and he can already tell from the way I hugged him—but didn't kiss him—when he stepped through the door, that something's very wrong. He seems confused, but happy to see me nonetheless.

I just wish I were as happy to see him. I wish I didn't want to cry at the sight of him.

My heart is racing, and my hands are shaking, but finally, I'm able to get out the words. "I'm glad you stopped by. I wanted to talk to you about something, and I didn't want to do it over the phone."

I pause, steeling myself, and I try to ignore the frown on his face.

"Oliver... I thought I wanted a relationship, but this just isn't working for me. Don't get me wrong, I still want to fuck, but let's keep it at that."

I can see that he's shocked and hurt, much more so than I expected. His jaw is set, and he's deliberately looking away from me.

After a long moment, he glances over, hardly looking at me, and slowly says, "You don't want to date me anymore? Just... sex?" I simply nod, trying to hold back tears.

He exhales slowly and finally says, "You know that means breaking up, right? Sex with you is not casual. It never was." He emphasizes the word "casual," as if he can't believe he was even asked to consider it.

He pauses. "At least, not for me."

He looks away for a long while, then finally turns to face me, stroking my cheek. He murmurs softly, "Lexi... nothing about this is casual for me. I have feelings for you."

He pauses and swallows, looking at me with such intense emotion that I inhale sharply in surprise. "Ever since our first night together. I'm falling in love with you."

I pull away and choke back tears—and after a few deep breaths, I manage to compose myself. I won't be vulnerable with Oliver, never again. He doesn't deserve it. He probably never did.

Finally, I softly say, "I did not expect you to... say that." I swallow hard.

"But... I don't get it. If this is how you treat someone you really care about...."

I sigh. "Look, either we have different standards, or you don't have your shit together enough for me to date you. No matter how much I might like you." I look away, blinking back tears.

He winces and looks away, clearly hurt by my words, and my heart sinks. I touch his arm and wait for him to look at me. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put it like that."

He doesn't reply and looks away for a long moment. Finally, he exhales softly and says quietly, "No, it was pretty accurate, actually. I probably don't have my shit together enough for you to date me. And once I tell you everything, you'll probably agree."

He looks at me then, and he looks so sad, and so hurt, and so withdrawn, that my heart actually aches for him. He's going through something serious—something devastating—I can tell. I pull my hand back, shocked by the intensity of his reaction.

And then, I surprise myself when I gently squeeze his hand. "What's going on?" I ask softly. "Did something happen?"

He exhales, and I notice his eyes are shimmering and the hurt expression still hasn't left his face. He looks at me.

"Fuck, I am so sorry, Lexi. I didn't mean to hurt you," he says, his voice soft and sad. "And yeah, something did happen. If you want to hear about it."

I nod and squeeze his hand, and he swallows and pauses for a long moment. "I told myself I was protecting you from my baggage, and that we don't know each other well enough yet... but it turns out I was just lying to myself."

Oliver looks at me intently, his brows furrowed. "I was afraid to be vulnerable when it came right down to it. And that's shitty of me because you were vulnerable with me right away. It was beautiful and amazing and refreshing.

But it was just too fucking hard to ask for your help. I know it sounds stupid, but that's how I felt. I just wanted to forget everything and have a shot of whiskey. So, I did. Just one night, but five or six shots that night. I didn't drink the other nights, I just stayed home and wallowed in self-pity. I wasn't busy like I said. I canceled everything and pretended I was fine. But I knew I couldn't pretend with you. So... it just seemed easier to avoid you."

My heart drops when he says the words. He was hurting, so he wanted to avoid me, not talk to me. Why had I ever believed he trusted me, even just a little bit? I drop my hand and look down, swallowing hard, not wanting him to see just how upset I am.

But he already knows. Oliver exhales slowly. "I know, that sounds horrible. I can't believe I fucking did that."

"What happened?" I ask, finally looking up at him, unable to hide the concern in my voice. I've never seen him like this, so lost and so anguished. Not even close.

"So... a few years ago, I was engaged," he begins, and I inhale sharply. I'd never expected him to hide something so big from me. He'd openly talked about past relationships, had implied that he'd never had anything serious with anyone, had always seemed so open and honest, but clearly, he just... wasn't. I guess he'd never been.

"I know, I should have told you," he says, when he sees the shocked and pained expression on my face.

He sighs. "Her name was Nicole, and she pushed me into an engagement after only dating for six months. I went along with it because it had been the first time I was 'in love' and I liked making her happy. Too much, as it turned out. I was so fucking naïve.

She was controlling and manipulative, from the very beginning. It got worse after we got engaged, and then she pulled away emotionally. She got even more manipulative. She gave me shit for every little thing I supposedly did or said. The stupid thing was, I still did whatever she wanted. I tried harder and harder to please her. Sometimes it worked. The rest of the time, she'd blow up over nothing, say she needed space for a few days, and then, things seemed... ok. But the pattern always repeated. By the end, I was sure I wasn't good enough for her. Or anyone, honestly."

When I see the pained expression on his face as he recalls all this, my heart hurts for him. I squeeze his hand, nodding for him to continue. He puts his hand over mine and takes a deep breath.

"It turns out that pretty much right after we got engaged, when she was busy getting angry at me over nothing, Nicole had been cheating on me with a friend of hers. I'd always thought something was off with their friendship, but she told me she was just supporting him as a friend, and that he was in a toxic relationship he needed to get out of."

Oliver laughs dryly. "It turned out that he'd ended the relationship a while before and started fucking Nicole right after that."

He pauses, then continues. "And one day, I saw a notification on her phone, and he'd texted her some pretty... intimate... things. So I confronted her and she admitted to everything right away. And that was pretty devastating on its own."

He hesitates and looks away, rubbing his face with his hand. I rest my hand on his back, trying to let him know it's ok to share things with me. And yhat he can trust me.

He exhales slowly and looks up at me. "But what she said afterwards was even worse. She told me I was selfish, useless, pathetic, inadequate... but it wasn't until she met him that she realized how awful I was. And she only stayed with me because she wasn't sure he would commit to her."

He looks away. "She told me that a woman would have to hate herself to want to be with me, and I was the one who manipulated her. And then, more of the same. I think she even said some things about how I was in bed." He looks away, not wanting me to see him like this, so raw and vulnerable and hurt. "That's just what I can remember."

"Fuck," I whisper, moving closer to him and wrapping my arm around him. He sighs and rests his forehead against mine.

"I just hate reliving all of that, Lexi. Especially all the things she said." He looks at me sadly and strokes my cheek.

"You're the first person I've told all that to," he says quietly. "I told everyone else that she'd cheated and was terrible at the end. But not the specifics. Not until now."

My breath catches, and I'm taken by the emotion he's sharing, at the pain he's finally letting me see. I put my hand on his and squeeze gently.

"It was brutal, and I felt like complete shit for months after that," he continues. "Hell, it still hurts, even after all this time. She knew just how to cut me, how to make me feel as shitty about myself as I possibly could. And she made sure I knew just how little she thought of me."

He pulls his head up and looks at me, and my heart stops when I see that his eyes are shining.

"That was two years ago, and it's still hard for me to trust people. I haven't had a girlfriend of any sort since then. Until you."

He lets out a small, sad sigh. "The part that still gets me is that I know I wasn't always a good partner to her. I know I was sometimes inconsiderate, or distant, or didn't give her the attention she needed and deserved. But I have no idea what I actually fucked up, and what was just her lies and manipulation. I can't even trust my own fucking head anymore."

Oliver shakes his head sadly, and I stroke the back of his neck, desperately trying to soothe him. I had no idea how bad it was. He never deserved to be treated like that. Oliver is sweet and kind and loving, and she... broke something inside of him. And I hate her for that. I want to hold him close and tell him that he's ok now, that he's safe with me now, and that I'll help him move past all the pain and misery and heartbreak that he's been through.

"I ran into them a couple of weeks ago, which brought everything back. All her lies. All her bullshit. Turns out he did commit after all, and they're still together."

He lets out a dry laugh. "At least it wasn't a meaningless fling, right? What kills me is that she could have just cut me lose months beforehand. She tortured me because she could."

Oliver looks away, blinking rapidly, then finally looks back at me.

"That night, I wanted to call you," he says, his voice breaking slightly. "The entire time, actually. I wanted to tell you how much I needed you. And that it was a big deal for me to trust you after everything that happened. Because I do trust you, Lexi, I always have."

He hesitates. "I wanted you to tell me that it was ok to trust you."

I put my arm around him and hold him, feeling his ragged breath against me. After a few moments, he looks up at me and puts his hand on the back of my head, stroking gently.

"But somehow, I thought it was easier to just pretend I was ok. I was so fucking wrong. I need you, and I love you. You have no idea how much."

I nod and stroke his cheek softly. I hate that he's hurting so much, and I wish I could comfort him, more than I am now. But there's still a lump in my throat. I still know something is very wrong with our relationship. He didn't even hint at being engaged, even though I'd told him every important thing about my past. And now, he's saying he loves me... after ghosting me for nearly two weeks.

Oliver seems to know what I'm thinking, and after a moment, he hesitates and says, "That's... a lot, I know. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you that day. I should have told you about her a long time ago. It was easier to leave things in the past, you know?"

He shakes his head. "Until it wasn't," he adds, looking down, unable to meet my eyes. He exhales slowly. "God, I really fucked this up, didn't I?" he says, still looking away.

I stroke his back softly, gently. "I hate that she did that to you," I say quietly. "You didn't deserve it, Oliver, not even a little bit. You're sweet and kind and generous, and you've always been amazing to me. Well, until this last week," I add, with a dry laugh. "But I know that's not really you."

I hesitate. "And it is ok for you to trust me. I care about you." I swallow, blinking back tears. "A lot."

I pause for a long moment, trying to find the right words to say what I'm feeling. "I get why you didn't want to talk about it, I really do. But it wasn't ok for you to completely shut me out like that. You didn't have to tell me everything, but you could have at least said you were going through something and needed space for a few days. Or texted just to say hi. Or to tell me that you missed me." I look down, suddenly emotional.

"I missed you," I whisper. "More than I expected to," I add, sadly, looking away. I don't want him to see just how much I want him. How much I need him.

Oliver exhales slowly and lifts my chin so I'm looking at him. "Fuck, Lexi, I missed you too. Especially with everything that was going on."

He sighs and looks away for a moment, and then his eyes meet mine again. "And you're right. I should have said something, anything. I shouldn't have just assumed I could put things on hold forever. I am so sorry, sweetheart."

He pauses for a long moment, as if turning something over in his mind.

"Today, I realized there was more going on. It wasn't just that I was afraid to be vulnerable, or that I didn't want to relive old memories, or that I didn't want you to think I was broken. Even though all of that's true."

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what he's about to say next, and I notice his eyes are shining again.

"I realized that if I was really honest with myself, I was afraid to be in a relationship with you." He pauses, looking at me intently. "But then... I remembered that you've never let me down. You've never given me a reason not to trust you. So I want to stop being so fucking scared."

I swallow, and this time, I can't blink back the tears. I'm full-on crying because he's finally admitted what I had feared this entire time, ever since he ghosted me: he was afraid to be in a relationship with me.

As soon as he said, "I was engaged," in that tone of voice, with that expression on his face—I knew. And yet, somehow his words still sting, because now I can't pretend they aren't true.

I wasn't wrong, after all: he is emotionally unavailable, and I know I deserve better. I deserve someone who's sure he wants me, someone who spends his energy proving it to me—not some guy who's too chickenshit to send a fucking text. It would have been so easy for him to have been more kind, to reassure me that he wasn't just disappearing on me, that something had happened, something big.

He could have proven to me that he wasn't anything like the selfish, asshole boyfriends I'd had in the past, and that he was different, that he cared about me for real. Hell, I'd run into one of those selfish, asshole ex-boyfriends on the very night Oliver and I had first gotten together. And he'd seen just how devastated I'd been by Jack.

But somehow, I let this stupid, selfish boy worm himself into my heart, and I hate that I didn't stop it. How completely and utterly idiotic of me. I should have known better.

I do believe that Oliver is good and kind and decent—and nothing like Jack—but, when faced with a difficult situation, Oliver chose to retreat into himself, chose not to trust me.

I know this about myself: I'm used to making excuses for men like Oliver, and a part of me wants to do that all over again. Especially because I feel so much empathy for him right now, knowing all of the terrible things that have happened to him. And he didn't deserve any of it.

But now, I do see Oliver differently, just as he'd feared. Maybe I will eventually decide to forgive him, but gone is the shiny newness that our relationship once had. I'm seeing just how damaged he is, just how much emotional growth he still needs to do. And I just don't know if it's worth waiting around for him to do it.

I have trust issues, just like Oliver does, but I would never have handled things the way he did. I would have called him immediately—hands shaking, voice quavering—and let myself sob in his arms, letting him comfort me. And long before that, I'd have told him about the engagement, about the cheating, about how afraid I was that I'd be hurt like that again. I would have told him everything.

In fact, I've already told him more serious things than what he's shared with me tonight. He knows all about the traumatic horrors of my childhood, about my asshole ex-boyfriends—even the ones who were far worse than Jack—and the friends and family who betrayed me. I told him everything because I trusted him and because I thought he'd opened up to me too. But now I know that he held back the most important things about his past, and that, when it came to a critical moment, he didn't choose me. He was afraid, and he chose to run.

He's told me many times that I'm brave and strong and fierce. Every time my mother texted me and told me I should call my father and forgive him, as I sobbed and my hands shook so badly that I almost dropped the phone, Oliver held me close and told me it was ok not to do it. Every time my sister called and told me that her husband had hit her again, but not nearly as badly this time, he'd held my hand and told me that I didn't have to rescue her anymore. Oliver knew everything, and he always told me how much he appreciated my strength and vulnerability.