Tamed

Chapter Thirty-Six: Fake Smile

Charlotte

(Five years earlier)

This week was important.

I should be excited right now. Like over the moon, on top of the world type of happy—but I'm not. Everything feels off now and I don't know how to fix it.

Ollie and I have been talking about what we wanted to do after graduation since we were kids. It was always my dream to go to New York for dance and he always want to play football for LSU. It was between that and Alabama for a while, but he was never one to lock down one certain thing. Ollie likes options.

When I told him about the acceptance letter to NYU on Monday, he barely got excited.

It felt like a stab to the chest. To me, it was the equivalent of him winning State, getting recruited by LSU, or being drafted even. It was my Super bowl and he acted like he couldn't give a single fuck.

If I'm being honest, he's been distant since the audition. Although he got overly excited for me afterward, grabbing people on the street and telling them his girl was a champion and yelling from the balcony of our hotel room in the city. He took every chance he got to try to embarrass me, but it was so adorable. I thought he was happy for me.

What I didn't realize was it put distance between us. Not a lot, but enough to notice the difference. The past few weeks have busy for him. I understand if it's causing him stress, but I still expected him to at least pretend to care about someone other than himself.

We're currently huddled in Jake's garage surrounded by space heaters. It's almost too cold outside at this point, even with the bonfire blazing in the field. The guys are never deterred when it comes to a Friday night party and have set up several tables for beer pong and one very intense arm wrestling contest.

If it were any other night, Ollie would be front and center for that one. He loves the chance to win something, but tonight he's distant. I'm sitting on his lap and he still feels a million miles away.

His hat in pulled down low on his forehead and an over-sized hoodie is zipped up over his T-shirt, obscuring half his face. He's barely made a sarcastic comment since we got here. They won the game by fourteen points so in true Ollie fashion, he should be running around shouting in people's faces, reminding them what a champion he is.

But he's not. He's slouched back in this chair with his arm locked around my waist like a vice grip. I've had to pee for like an hour, but I didn't want to move. Something's not right with him and it's driving me crazy.  I'm not even drinking, but the water I've been sipping is starting to make me queasy.  I've been feeling like this off and on for about a week now.  My nerves must really be getting the best of me too.

He's also barely said a word to me since we got here. It started in the truck on the way over and his strange mood has followed us here.

I turn in his lap and clutch his wrist to get his attention. He lazily looks up at me and gives a nod.

"I need to get up."

He moves his arm, his face stoic. "So go."

With a huff, I stand up and brush my hair back from my face. "What is your problem?"

Ollie shrugs, unaffected. "I don't have a problem." He finishes the rest of his beer and crushes the can in his hand. With a toss to the metal garbage can, he nods to me again. "Get me another one on your way back."