Loving Oliver

【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ ０６ Ｌｏｖｉｎｇ ｔｈｅ Ｒｏｏｍ ＆ Ｂｏａｒｄ】

【Ｃｈａｐｔｅｒ　０６　Ｌｏｖｉｎｇ　ｔｈｅ　Ｒｏｏｍ　＆　Ｂｏａｒｄ】

Chapter 06 Loving the Room & Board

My bedroom was on the second floor of this two-story cottage. It was cozy and warm, and I hated to admit it, but I loved it. It was the exact opposite of the penthouse. I made a vow as soon as I laid down on the queen size plush bed that I would never live in a penthouse again. After I handed over the test to Sam and left him and Owen down in the kitchen I followed the directions Sam gave me to my room.

The room had a beautiful picture window that looked out over the backyard and orange tree that grew in the corner near the fence. The bedroom walls were a soft blue and the room had a desk overlooking the window and a small wardrobe in the corner.

It was truly the polar opposite of my room and I couldn't feel more relieved at not having to live in my old bedroom anymore. I had a ceiling fan on, and it circle around in a hypnotizing pattern as it made a soft buzzing noise due to it being on the highest setting.

The ceiling light was off but the nightstand near my bed was on and created a soft glow around my small room. I took a deep breath kicking off my sneakers and letting it out when I heard my shoes hit the floor.

My suitcase was haphazardly set in the middle of my room near the door after I dug through it to find a pair of shorts. I quickly change into them and feel much cooler in the warmth of the Tennessee heat that entered my room through the window.

I set the picture frame, that I managed to unpack, onto my bedside table so I can see his smile from the angle I'm laying at on my bed. The picture where he's looking down at me and I have cotton candy jammed packed in my mouth. Our smiles, our eyes, our love was so innocent that day. Before life came hurtling at us.

I fall asleep thinking about my green-eyed boy. I wonder how his day is going. If he's had a better day than mine. If maybe I'm still in his dreams even if I'm not in his life. If he still dreams of me even if he's forgotten me.

And for the first time since I was little girl, I pray. I pray that by some miracle I'm in his dreams like he's in mine.

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I don't wake up to my phone beeping or blaring or even buzzing. I don't wake up to mom slamming the doors as she arrives home after a meeting. I don't even wake up to the sound of the city scape right outside my window.

I wake up to a soft knock on my bedroom door. And it pulls me from an early memory of the first time I met Oliver.

I'm glad that I don't get to finish the dream though. I couldn't breathe easy whenever I had these dreams. My chest always tightened, and I ended up holding my breath until I passed out. I hadn't cried in months. I knew it wasn't healthy not to cry but I couldn't get myself to release what I had been carrying.

I didn't know if it scared me, or if I could be capable of finishing the grieving process. I don't think I could work out the rage to get to the point where I could cry. I was almost 4 months into Oliver's accident, and I was still masked with shock and horror.

And the night I went to visit Ollie in the hospital I had fallen asleep holding his broken hand. After 6 hours of visiting Ollie and telling him I loved him to his very unconscious form his mom found me with my head on her son's pillow and had me removed by security.

I hadn't seen him since. Oliver's mom kept him home the rest of the school year to help him with his rehabilitation process and in turn hired tutors to make sure he kept up with the rest of his classmates so that he would be on track to get into Northwestern. She couldn't have her precious son be off track to graduate Northwestern as a surgeon in seven years' time. Good fucking forbid.