The Best Years: Year One, Part Two

Chapter Twenty - Eight

I watch him speedily text Caden back desperately wondering what they were talking about.

Me? Elizabeth? The fight?

He didn't look up from his phone when he said, "Stop being nosy Layla. It's not about you."

I finished drying off instead of asking anymore about it. Oliver was private, that much I knew. If you begged or pushed he instantly got cold, but if you let him make the first move it became worth the wait.

He tossed his phone on the bed walking over to a row of draws offering me his boxer briefs again. Anything seemed better than a towel or clothes I wore all night. I waited to get changed checking my phone and reading 1:37 AM first. No wonder I felt exhausted. I hadn't stopped bouncing from one highly strung emotion to the other.

I sat on his bed in my towel watching him change into his black boxer briefs intending on reading all 20 messages from B. His confidence was distracting. He was fluid like a choreographed dance he knew by heart as he stepped into his box briefs carefree and probably aware I was watching.

She wrote everything separately, each emotion getting their own stage.

Anger: "Why didn't you tell me about Hunter??"
Sadness: "I'm so sorry that happened Layla. I had no idea. I don't even know what to say. Just call me."
Excitement: "Oliver looked so hot that angry!"
Confusion: "Elizabeth is so wasted right now!"
Informative: "Caden is such a man. I'm so glad we went to college here! No more little boys!"

I needed my emotions to stop changing as quickly as my breath. Her manic texts didn't help calm me down one bit. I was too distracted reading the texts I didn't notice Oliver sitting in a chair in the corner, on the edge uncomfortably. His phone between his hands as his long fingers texted quickly.

I tried to break whatever silence this was in the air, "Elizabeth is drunk apparently...."

I knew that's what he was thinking about. I didn't blame him for it. She was important to him and all of the tension amounted to her getting.

He barely looked up but I could see the snarl across his face, "I'm aware Layla."

I was surprised he wasn't going to go back, repair what he could, we both knew a drunk Elizabeth had a weakness for him. It would be an opportune time to appeal for her forgiveness. He stood up abruptly putting the phone to his ear pacing the length of the room. His shoulders and arms looked tense with momentary anger waiting to get worse.

I became extra quiet listening in, "Caden, she's a big girl. She's just drunk."

I couldn't hear the other side of the conversation, only that he was talking through the static sounds spilling out of the speaker. I couldn't connect any of the dots beyond Caden texted Oliver about Elizabeth being drunk. He was probably keeping Oliver informed after his cruel words but Oliver wasn't taking it that way. He was taking it personally, like the attachment was still alive and well post breakup. Everyone wanted him to be responsible for her or maybe they were just use to him taking charge when it came to her.

I saw the matching tattoo on his arm displayed as he held the phone. I felt a ping of jealousy even though more than just Elizabeth had the tattoo. It felt irrational but comforting at the same time. I was being honest with myself instead of pushing how I felt down deep to make everyone else happy.

He spoke again, "Let her. She needs to experience something else but me."

I had a feeling he was rooting for Elizabeth and now I could confirm it. Elizabeth was the better choice for Oliver. She was already friends with everyone, a perfect student, had history with him, innocent, and perfectly polished on the outside.