Chapter 43: Not a Threat
Oliver got home first for once, settling into the couch with his phone. He liked the rare quiet of the house before Del came in. By the time she stepped through the door, hair a little windblown and tote bag slipping off her shoulder, he already looked like he’d been waiting there all along.
He’s not sure, though, why he was waiting for her.
“You’re early,” she said as she closed the door behind her.
“You’re late,” he replied. “Everything okay?”
She shrugged. “I went to the cemetery. Visited my parents.”
Oliver nodded, the casual look never leaving his face. “Good,” he said.
Del glanced over her shoulder. “Told them about having coffee with Toby.”
The name sat wrong with him. “You told them about that?”
“Yes.” She removed her shoes and put them in the rack by the entryway. “Why does that sound like disapproval?”
“It doesn’t. I only meant—it seemed like it’s not the kind of thing worth mentioning.”
“I tell them everything,” she said matter-of-factly. “Even the stupid ones.”
He leaned against the sofa. “Everything?”
“Everything,” Del repeated and then moved toward the kitchen. “I even tell them about you.”
Oliver followed, leaning against the counter. She rarely offered anything this personal. “Yeah?”
She nodded, keeping her back to him. “Yes, I… talk to them. Update them on things. What’s going on with me.”
“And what exactly did you tell your Mom and Dad about me?” His smile widened. "That you took in some stray? Or that you’ve got a man living under your roof for the first time in your life?”
Del opened a cupboard, determined not to face him. “I told them my roommate turned out to be a guy, which wasn’t planned. Thanks to Liza. That’s it.”
“That’s it? No, ‘Don’t worry, Mom, he’s harmless’? Or—” his voice dipped low “—‘He’s the sort of man you’d probably warn me about’?”
Her hand paused on a glass, heat creeping into her cheeks. “Why would I tell them that?”
Oliver’s grin deepened. “Okay, tell me then, did you also confess to them that you let slip you’re still a virgin?”
Her head snapped toward him, eyes wide. “I—excuse me?”
He chuckled, taking a step forward, close enough now that her back brushed the counter. “What? It’s a fair question. If you’re updating them about your life, that little detail would make for an interesting family chat.”
She swallowed hard, and he watched her throat move, his gaze dropping briefly before lifting back to her eyes.
“Relax,” he said lightly. “I just… like the thought of you thinking about me while you talk to them.”
Her lips parted, but no words came out. He chuckled low.
When she finally shoved past him, muttering something about needing space, he let her go. But the smug little smile stayed on his face.
The next morning, Del left early for class. Oliver stayed behind, watching her go. When the door shut, he pulled out his phone, called work, and told them he was down with the flu.
He dressed simply—jeans, a clean shirt, and a jacket. By mid-morning, he was on the university campus, moving among the students until he found who he was looking for.
Toby was leaning against a column outside a lecture hall, scrolling on his phone, earbuds dangling.
When Oliver stopped in front of him, Toby looked up, startled. “What the—you? What the hell are you doing here? Are you stalking me now?”
Oliver’s mouth twitched. “Something like that.”
“How’d you even know where to find me? This place is a zoo.”
“Some people stand out,” Oliver said evenly. “You’re one of them.”
Toby frowned, trying to decide if it was an insult. Then his grin returned. “Well, here I am. What’s this about?”
Oliver didn’t bother with small talk. “It’s about Del. And your coffee.”
“Oh,” Toby said, drawing out the word. “You mean our date.”
The word landed between them. Oliver didn’t move, but his jaw tensed for a second before he smoothed it away. “That’s what you’re calling it?”
“What else would I call it?” Toby pushed off the column and straightened, as if to meet him head-on. “She agreed to meet me. We’ll sit down, have drinks, talk, and get to know each other better. If that’s not a date, then I don’t know what is.”
Oliver’s eyes stayed on him, calm. “You’ve decided the definition works for you. Fine.”
Toby laughed. “You sound jealous.”
“What I sound like doesn’t matter. What matters is how you behave with her.”
Toby smirked, enjoying the pushback. “Relax. I know how to treat a woman.”
Oliver stepped closer, not enough to cause a scene but enough that Toby had to tilt his head back slightly. “See that you do. She deserves better than cheap games.”
“Is that supposed to scare me?” Toby asked. For a moment, he faltered, then covered it with a laugh. “She doesn’t need you protecting her.”
“Maybe not,” Oliver said. “But I’ll do it anyway.”
Toby’s grin widened again, turning more aggressive. “You think you know her? You’re new in her life. You don’t know what she likes, what she wants, or what she deserves. I’ve known her longer. I’ll treat her right.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice as if to provoke. “Better than you ever could. And she’ll enjoy every second of it.”
Oliver’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes hardened. “Careful with your words.”
Toby straightened, clearly pleased with himself. “What? Did I touch a nerve? You don’t like the idea of someone else being good to her?”
“You don’t get it,” Oliver said quietly. “This isn’t about you being good to her. It’s about you staying in your lane.”
That riled Toby. “Funny, coming from you. I'm sure you're just some psycho housemate who lucked into a room in her house. Everyone can see it—you’ve got the hots for her. And you’re circling, acting like you’re her guard dog, when really you’re just obsessed.”
"You're projecting."
Toby tried to smirk it off. “Projecting?” he scoffed. “I see you, bro. You're hanging around her like some lovesick mutt, hoping she throws you a bone. And you think I'm projecting? ”
Oliver’s jaw flexed once, but his voice stayed calm. “Doesn’t matter what I think. What matters is how you behave around her.”
Toby leaned in, goading. “And if I don’t? Are you going to follow me around? Beat me up in alleys?” He laughed. “Man, you’re even creepier than I thought.”
Oliver finally smiled, though it was a faint and humorless one. “Make sure you behave yourself with her, Toby. Screw it up, and you’ll be seeing me again. Next time won’t be so pleasant.
“Is that a threat?”
Oliver shook his head. “No. I don’t waste time making threats. ”
Toby’s grin faltered again.
Oliver adjusted his jacket and stepped back as though the conversation had been nothing more than small talk. Then he turned and walked away, blending into the steady current of students.