Author's note: this is the third and final chapter of an enemies-to-lovers erotic romance, told from the perspective of Lexi. I've put this chapter in the Romance category, because there's no sex in this story. Enjoy!
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It's been almost two months, and Oliver and I talk nearly every day. We see each other every weekend, sleep over at least twice a week, and text constantly. I slowly start to relax into him, into our relationship. I'm starting to feel like maybe it's ok to really trust him.
Until now. Until this past week. He's been different this week. Distant. Unavailable. Gone is the Oliver of before, the Oliver who showed me such kindness and affection and desire. He used to call or text me every day, he used to always ask when he could see me next, and he'd always thank me for making time to see him. He appreciated me.
But not this week. For the past week and a half, I've always been the one to reach out, have always been the one to ask for a date. And he's been aloof, ignoring me for days on end, sending short responses, telling me he's too busy see me. No explanation, no plans for a later time. Just, "Sorry babe, I have a lot going on. Talk later?"
A few days ago, I finally texted, "Is everything ok?"
But that was a mistake. A few hours later, he wrote back: "Sorry, can't talk now. I'll text tomorrow." But of course, he never did.
If I didn't care about him so much, if I didn't think about him so much, it would be ok. It would be disappointing, it would maybe hurt a bit, but it wouldn't be
a big deal
. Relationships fizzle. This would just be great sex—easy enough to find with a different partner. It would have been fine.
But this isn't just great sex. It never was, from the very first moment he held me close and comforted me. From that moment on, I was done for.
I started falling for him, just a little bit, that very first night. How did I miss what was right in front of me? He had never been emotionally available: I saw what I'd wanted to see.
I was taken in by his intensity, by the sex, by all those stupid brain chemicals that make you think someone has real feelings for you, and that you're not
just someone they want to fuck
. Somehow, things stopped being so easy for him. He got "busy." He had a choice, and he didn't choose me.
The thought always makes me want to choke back a sob.
I've always known I get attached easily, and I'd thought I'd been
so fucking careful
this time. Especially when the sex was like this. Raw and rough and passionate and emotional and intense. It made me believe we had something real. Not a fantasy. Not a delusion.
But now I know: he was never really mine.
. . . . .
It's Sunday night, and finally, Oliver has asked for a date. My heart fluttered when I saw the text, when I finally saw his interest in me, but I forced myself to stay calm and steady. Yes, I had wanted him to be someone I could trust, someone I could rely on. But now I know... he just isn't that.
And now, he's sitting next to me on the couch, and he can already tell from the way I hugged him—but didn't kiss him—when he stepped through the door, that something's very wrong. He seems confused, but happy to see me nonetheless.
I just wish I were as happy to see him. I wish I didn't want to cry at the sight of him.
My heart is racing, and my hands are shaking, but finally, I'm able to get out the words. "I'm glad you stopped by. I wanted to talk to you about something, and I didn't want to do it over the phone."
I pause, steeling myself, and I try to ignore the frown on his face.
"Oliver... I thought I wanted a relationship, but this just isn't working for me. Don't get me wrong, I still want to fuck, but let's keep it at that."
I can see that he's shocked and hurt, much more so than I expected. His jaw is set, and he's deliberately looking away from me.
After a long moment, he glances over, hardly looking at me, and slowly says, "You don't want to date me anymore? Just... sex?" I simply nod, trying to hold back tears.
He exhales slowly and finally says, "You know that means breaking up, right? Sex with you is not casual. It never was." He emphasizes the word "casual," as if he can't believe he was even asked to consider it.
He pauses. "At least, not for me."
He looks away for a long while, then finally turns to face me, stroking my cheek. He murmurs softly, "Lexi... nothing about this is casual for me. I have feelings for you."
He pauses and swallows, looking at me with such intense emotion that I inhale sharply in surprise. "Ever since our first night together. I'm falling in love with you."
I pull away and choke back tears—and after a few deep breaths, I manage to compose myself. I won't be vulnerable with Oliver, never again. He doesn't deserve it. He probably never did.
Finally, I softly say, "I did not expect you to... say that." I swallow hard.
"But... I don't get it. If this is how you treat someone you really care about...."
I sigh. "Look, either we have different standards, or you don't have your shit together enough for me to date you. No matter how much I might like you." I look away, blinking back tears.
He winces and looks away, clearly hurt by my words, and my heart sinks. I touch his arm and wait for him to look at me. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have put it like that."
He doesn't reply and looks away for a long moment. Finally, he exhales softly and says quietly, "No, it was pretty accurate, actually. I probably
don't
have my shit together enough for you to date me. And once I tell you everything, you'll probably agree."
He looks at me then, and he looks so sad, and so hurt, and so withdrawn, that my heart actually
aches
for him. He's going through something serious—something devastating—I can tell. I pull my hand back, shocked by the intensity of his reaction.
And then, I surprise myself when I gently squeeze his hand. "What's going on?" I ask softly. "Did something happen?"
He exhales, and I notice his eyes are shimmering and the hurt expression still hasn't left his face. He looks at me.
"Fuck, I am so sorry, Lexi. I didn't mean to hurt you," he says, his voice soft and sad. "And yeah, something did happen. If you want to hear about it."
I nod and squeeze his hand, and he swallows and pauses for a long moment. "I told myself I was protecting you from my baggage, and that we don't know each other well enough yet... but it turns out I was just lying to myself."
Oliver looks at me intently, his brows furrowed. "I was afraid to be vulnerable when it came right down to it. And that's shitty of me because
you
were vulnerable with me right away. It was beautiful and amazing and refreshing.
But it was just too fucking hard to ask for your help. I know it sounds stupid, but that's how I felt. I just wanted to forget everything and have a shot of whiskey. So, I did. Just one night, but five or six shots that night. I didn't drink the other nights, I just stayed home and wallowed in self-pity. I wasn't busy like I said. I canceled everything and pretended I was fine. But I knew I couldn't pretend with you. So... it just seemed easier to avoid you."
My heart drops when he says the words. He was hurting, so he wanted to
avoid me
, not talk to me. Why had I ever believed he trusted me, even just a little bit? I drop my hand and look down, swallowing hard, not wanting him to see just how upset I am.
But he already knows. Oliver exhales slowly. "I know, that sounds horrible. I can't believe I fucking did that."
"What happened?" I ask, finally looking up at him, unable to hide the concern in my voice. I've never seen him like this, so lost and so anguished. Not even close.
"So... a few years ago, I was engaged," he begins, and I inhale sharply. I'd never expected him to hide something so big from me. He'd openly talked about past relationships, had implied that he'd never had anything serious with anyone, had always seemed so open and honest, but clearly, he just... wasn't. I guess he'd never been.
"I know, I should have told you," he says, when he sees the shocked and pained expression on my face.
He sighs. "Her name was Nicole, and she pushed me into an engagement after only dating for six months. I went along with it because it had been the first time I was 'in love' and I liked making her happy. Too much, as it turned out. I was so fucking naïve.
She was controlling and manipulative, from the very beginning. It got worse after we got engaged, and then she pulled away emotionally. She got even more manipulative. She gave me shit for every little thing I supposedly did or said. The stupid thing was, I still did whatever she wanted. I tried harder and harder to please her. Sometimes it worked. The rest of the time, she'd blow up over nothing, say she needed space for a few days, and then, things seemed... ok. But the pattern always repeated. By the end, I was sure I wasn't good enough for her. Or anyone, honestly."
When I see the pained expression on his face as he recalls all this, my heart hurts for him. I squeeze his hand, nodding for him to continue. He puts his hand over mine and takes a deep breath.
"It turns out that pretty much right after we got engaged, when she was busy getting angry at me over nothing, Nicole had been cheating on me with a friend of hers. I'd always
thought
something was off with their friendship, but she told me she was just supporting him as a friend, and that he was in a toxic relationship he needed to get out of."
Oliver laughs dryly. "It turned out that he'd ended the relationship a while before and started fucking Nicole right after that."
He pauses, then continues. "And one day, I saw a notification on her phone, and he'd texted her some pretty... intimate... things. So I confronted her and she admitted to everything right away. And that was pretty devastating on its own."
He hesitates and looks away, rubbing his face with his hand. I rest my hand on his back, trying to let him know it's ok to share things with me. And yhat he can trust me.
He exhales slowly and looks up at me. "But what she said afterwards was even worse. She told me I was selfish, useless, pathetic, inadequate... but it wasn't until she met him that she realized how awful I was. And she only stayed with me because she wasn't sure he would commit to her."
He looks away. "She told me that a woman would have to hate herself to want to be with me, and
I
was the one who manipulated
