One and a half hours before
Olivia had never felt like suffocating between those walls that were her home, until today that was. She literally could no longer breathe, couldn't hear herself think despite the quiet. Carrie was sitting on the sofa, reading a book while she herself couldn't rest, couldn't stop doing something, even if it meant slowly pacing the small space of her open kitchen. Carrie had glanced over a few times in the past fifteen minutes but Olivia had managed to ignore it. It was pointless, she knew. It wasn't normal that she felt so goddamn restless. For her whole life, Olivia had been pretty damned good at avoiding conversations, at turning away, running, sitting things out and eventually the issues would either go away, or they would stop to matter. She was searching and she didn't know what for. Answers, maybe. Clarity. Some tool that would help for all of this to go away.
Carrie had been talking a whole lot up until the previous night and although her advice had always been sane and reflected, it was neither good nor bad because Olivia still had a choice to make. Talk to Tom or shut her eyes, block it out. She was running in circles, literally as well as figuratively.
She had avoided Tom these past two mornings, has avoided even looking him in the eye. It was a coping mechanism, only it failed. She was still too aware of him, his presence, his voice, eyes. And even with her avoidance at full force, she had noticed that Tom hadn't known which way the wind was blowing because the last time they had talked about what was important in a guitar things had seemed normal and solid. As normal as could be expected, at least.
The sun was starting to set and Olivia crossed her arms, stopping in her tracks to look out the window for a minute or two, and then she couldn't take it anymore. She had to get out, had to just breathe.
„Do you mind if I went for a walk?" Olivia asked stoically.
Carrie took her eyes off of her book, glancing at the brunette. In fact she didn't mind at all because the pacing had gotten distracting and annoying. „You go."
„If Noah-,"
„We'll be fine. Go. If there's an issue I'll call you."
Pursing her lips, Olivia gave a curt nod. She grabbed her cardigan, stuffed her keys in the back pocket of her jeans and grasped her phone, fingers wrapped around it firmly.
Once she shut the door behind her, Olivia almost fell into a jog and outside, enveloped by the sounds of the still busy traffic she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, then released a shaky breath. Glancing left and right, Olivia wasn't sure where to go, so she simply started walking, directionless. For a few minutes her mind was perfectly blank and she shuffled her feet. She was warm, the chilled air had little to no effect on her. It was only when she reached Central Park that she allowed herself to stop and take in her surroundings. Maybe, she thought, she would keep walking. To Strawberry Fields or maybe until she'd get out on the other side of the park on East 72nd. But she as spotted a bench, Olivia changed her mind and walked over, sitting down. The intention was to only catch her breath, but in the end she didn't move, didn't want to move. The cold now made her flesh crawl.
Every now and then couples and joggers passed her by but Olivia barely took notice. She felt like talking to the dark, like screaming at it until her lungs would give out, until her throat would burn. Because of Tom she was no longer functioning like she used to, like she should. Not because he has such big effect on her, that wasn't it at all, she kept insisting and reasoning with herself. It was only that she didn't understand what the hell he wanted from her. She could ask but was reluctant to open that box. It was pointless. She might as well lock that thing up, bury it and throw away the key. She should walk away and never look back.
She didn't have to try only to find out the hard way it isn't meant to be. And she had no romantic interest in him, anyway. It had been nothing but a little flirtation that night, laughter, food and wine. Maybe some attraction. Talking to him would make no sense, she might as well leave him be. Soon enough another woman would catch his eye and spark his interest and he'd never waste a single thought on her again. And someone else was ultimately better for him for a million and one reasons. She could tell him that. Simply tell him that it all was a big mistake, that she's not right for him, that she could never love him like he'd deserve, no explanations needed. Better yet, she could say she hadn't really been interested to begin with. With no foundation to build upon, he'd realize it was futile to go out on another date.
Angrily fingers clenched to fists, nails dug into skin. She wasn't lonely. She didn't need love. She had Noah and that was enough, had to be enough.
She wasn't strong enough to admit that she was shitting herself.
The night was getting darker as the minutes passed and Olivia wanted to shut every thought of Tom down. And she wanted a drink. Badly. Some strong poison that would settle deep within her and spread warmly throughout every last fibre of her being, lulling her into sweet oblivion. The only thing that kept her was the loss of her drive to move from the spot.
She gave up fifteen minutes later as her vision blurred with a threat of tears. All she needed to know was why he was even interested in her, for her own peace of mind. Unlocking her phone and opening WhatsApp, she started to type a message.
…
PRESENT
Her eyes and her mouth. Her eyes and her mouth were all Tom could see. Her lips were close, so close, he'd merely have to tilt his head forward and he would kiss her. It would be easy, ludicrously easy. But he did no such thing as she gazed back at him. His eyes were pleading her to say something and in hers he could see confusion and surprise. And underneath that whirlwind of emotions he also saw fear. Only he didn't understand what she could possibly be scared of. Faltering she averted her gaze.
„I'm sorry but I can't," she said after long moments. Tentatively, Olivia took a step back, needing to put some distance between them because he was so dangerously close.
„Why?" He wanted to know. He sensed there was something between them, some pull, chemistry a connection. He couldn't just be imagining it.
Olivia couldn't look at him, couldn't face whatever she might read in his features and eyes. „I'm just… not interested in you," she lied, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears. Her shoulders sagged and she took yet another step away from him, from the situation. From them. „I really am sorry," she apologized guiltily, the volume of her voice barely above a whisper. She pulled off his jacket and he wordlessly took it from her.
He watched her intently and pondered her words, but Tom couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't being honest. He couldn't be that much of an idiot. If she had no interest in him whatsoever, then why the back and forth? Then why did she need answers from him? Why would the reason he had asked her out matter? Why would her age matter or her questioning if he knew what it meant to date someone her age? He didn't buy it. She couldn't even look at him and tell him about her alleged lack of interest. She retreated more and he let her. Maybe it wasn't worth the energy he was investing. He should probably let it go and move on, the same way she was obviously moving on.
She turned away when she felt the bite of tears. It was all said and done, there was nothing more keeping her. Her feet started to move just in time and she quickly brushed a tear away as it fell. Olivia didn't even know why she was crying. There was no reason at all. It had been an emotional rollercoaster lately. That must be it, she told herself. She was fine. This was what she had wanted.
It was the right thing in any case.
…
Tom exhaled, unaware of the breath he had been holding until his lungs were screaming for oxygen as she walked away. His hand fisted the hair on the back of his head, an act of frustration. He wished he would care less, but the truth was that he felt completely lost. Maybe he had tried too hard. He should take her word for it when she said she wasn't interested in him. He should go home instead of standing here like a lovesick puppy and watch her walk away from him. But every bit of reasoning failed with him.
He started to walk and fell into a jog, following her, and from about a hundred feet away he started calling out for her. „Olivia!"
He could see her body stiffen and she slowed down for a moment, but then kept walking.
„Olivia!" He called out to her again, his legs moving faster as he caught up with her. „I'm not buying it," he told her when he was a mere twenty feet behind her.
„Tom-," she said with resignation.
„Look at me." She didn't stop walking, if anything her pace picked up a little. „Dammit, look at me, Olivia," he said with irritation. That seemed to show some effect because she finally stood still.
She closed her eyes, her breath staccato. Why didn't he just leave her be? What did he still want? Didn't she make herself clear? She almost winced as her resolve was starting to crumble and as Tom stepped around her, facing her, something inside her cracked. All of a sudden she felt drained and tired.
„You're not interested?" He asked, and his voice was surprisingly calm. There was no reproach in his tone, he just needed to know, needed to hear it from her again, or else he was not going to believe it. And if she would repeat it, he'd take her word for it and let her go.
She couldn't speak. Try as she might, no word came out. It had been simple before, at least in comparison, but now she couldn't even think. It felt like Tom had disarmed her and now she was vulnerable and defenseless.
„Then why, Olivia?" He pushed gently. „I will let you go, but at least tell me what is is? Just my age?"
„It wouldn't work," she whispered. „It's not you, Tom. It's me. You'd regret it." Olivia didn't know why she told him this. Why it was so hard to repeat that she wasn't interested. She was not yet able to face that she was interested, least of all admit it to Tom. Why had he decided to come after her, confront her? No man has ever followed her when she had brushed them off or ended things - not that there was something to end, yet. Nothing had even begun.
„And how can you be so convinced of that?" He asked. He needed to keep her talking before she'd shut him out again but he only got a shrug in return. The truth was, Olivia didn't know why she was so convinced. Mostly she was scared. Of opening up to him, to anyone. Letting him in.
He exhaled heavily and shook his head. „You're frustrating me to no end right now," Tom admitted and put his jacket around her once more. „We're going to go somewhere warm now. You must be chilled to the bone.
Something in her wanted to protest but as she felt Tom's hand on the small of her back, ever so gently guiding her towards West 72nd Street, she gave in and simply nodded.
…
