Faith is a Secret Not a Promise

Chapter 9 - A Deal Written in Water

Michael

"Work with me"

The words slip out before I can catch myself. Though I don't immediately regret them, not even when Oliver turns to me so quickly with a face that held nothing but shock. I quickly feel the need to put all my concentration into not revealing the smile that threatens to emerge from just looking at his face right now.

Instead I proceed with my usual façade of business and decide to do the talking, since Oliver currently looks like he's stuck on one breath. "I can be your mentor for the business world." He still looks at me with a blank expression, so I expand. "You've clearly got some sort of a natural talent, but...it's messy."

From this, Mrs Briggs sends me a look of confusion, wondering what exactly it is that I'm getting at.

"All you need is experience in dealing with business in real life; the work ethic, the solutions, interacting with clients, with partners." I try my hardest in conving him of the idea, still unsure myself as to why I want him to agree so badly. At least Mrs Briggs seems relieved that I wasn't infact insulting her teaching methods by calling Oliver's work 'messy'.

Oliver still looks incredibly uncertain and unwillingly to say anything just yet. So I decide to tell him something in a lower voice that would feel more private, more genuine, in order to persuade him.

"You have potential, Oliver."

His name rolls off my tongue and escapes my lips with such ease. It sounds like a melodic enchantment. And I can tell is that it has its effect on him, as his gaze softens. His eyes become more gentle, vulnerable even, as I can practically hear him overthinking about everything I have to say.

Thankfully, Mrs Briggs interjects before the silence between us becomes uncomfortable. "Yes that does sound like a brilliant idea Oliver. You should really consider this, it could be great for your future." I couldn't be more grateful for her taking my side because I know that there would be no chance in persuading Oliver by myself. I can only hope that he'll listen to her.

I turn to him upon the thought and find a man who couldn't look any more conflicted. My heart's exterior almost cracks to see his eyebrows knit together impossibly close, and his mouth hang slightly open as if to speak, but the panic-striken look in his eyes tell me that the words have gotten caught in his throat.

The table is silent for a few impatient seconds, yet I know that everyone is willing to wait a century for Oliver to finally talk.

I wish I could answer for him, or at least convince him of an answer for himself. If only to smooth his features into an expression of content as I have grown fond of from this lunch.

As if hearing my thoughts, Oliver turns to me and discovers my gaze already lingering on him. Staring into his eyes while his stare into mine. It's as if we've left the room altogether, gone into a place of tranquility, while still having this chain of chaos connecting us.

I take the opportunity of being so close to him and spend this moment to really look at the entirety of his face. Dragging my eyes from his, I glance over his nose that is sculpted like the perfection of art. My gaze caresses his cheekbones, which hold a sense of strong fragility. I journey further from the sharp outline of his upper lip to the fullness below, and immediately I know that it is unworthy of most touch.

Beauty of such rarety deserves to be touched by nothing but purity alike.

My eyes dart back up upon the sudden realisation of why I had asked Oliver to work with me. I wanted to keep him close to me. I needed to look at his beauty more than I needed to breathe.