Chapter 46: A Quiet Company
When Del came home, she disappeared straight into her room. The click of the door closing was the last sound Oliver heard from her all evening. No footsteps in the hallway, no faint music drifting under the door in her room like she sometimes played. Just silence.
Del wasn’t the type you could press for answers. Pushing would only make her retreat deeper. Still, he couldn’t shake the worry that pressed against his ribs.
By nine, Oliver gave up pacing and pulled on his black hoodie. If Del wouldn’t talk, maybe Toby would.
He had no trouble finding him. A quick check of the bars near campus, and there Toby was—leaning back in a booth with a drink in hand, surrounded by college friends. Laughter rolled out of the group in waves, loud enough to draw glances from other tables.
Oliver didn’t go in. He stayed outside, leaning against the wall across the street with his hood up, watching through the bar’s window. He was studying him—how easily he laughed, how thoughtless his gestures seemed. It didn’t match the way Del had come home, quiet and locked away.
Hours dragged. People came and went, but Toby stayed planted in his booth, ordering another round, laughing even louder, and waving his arms as if telling stories that needed an audience.
Finally, close to midnight, Toby stumbled out with three friends, all of them loud and tipsy. They piled into a cab, slamming the doors, still laughing as the car pulled away.
Oliver stayed there for another minute, staring at the empty street before exhaling and turning back toward home.
When he arrived, the house was still quiet. He left his shoes on the rack by the entryway, locked the door, and climbed the stairs. In his room, he changed into a white shirt and grey sweatpants. He was about to crawl into bed when a thought nagged at him.
He left his room and crossed the hallway and paused by her door. That was when he heard it, the faint, broken sound of her crying. His chest tightened.
“Del?” His voice was low, careful not to startle her. “You okay?”
No answer.
He waited a moment, then tried again. “Do you want me to come in?”
Silence.
He reached for the knob, found it unlocked, and eased the door open.He stepped in quietly and closed the door behind him. Del was curled on her side, facing the wall, her back toward him. For a second he just stood there, not sure if she would throw him out.
“Turn off the main lights,” she then said without looking at him. “Just leave the lamp.”
He flicked the switch, letting the warm glow from the nightstand settle over them, softening the room. Then he moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Del,” he said softly. “Talk to me.”
She sighed, but she didn’t lift her head.
Oliver exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Are you okay? Do you want me to lie down with you?”
“I’m not okay,” she just said.
That was enough for him. He eased onto the bed behind her, his taller frame folding easily over hers until she was held flush against him. His chest pressed along her spine, his knees tucked behind hers, the length of him settling easily around her. His head hovered just above hers, close enough that his breath stirred her hair.
“What happened at your coffee with Toby?” he asked quietly.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
He didn’t press. Instead, he laid his hand softly against her back, rubbing slow circles. She gave no sign of reacting, but she didn’t pull away either.
He lowered his voice to a whisper near her ear. “Are you feeling any better?”
“No.”
His breath stirred against her hair as he asked, “Do you want me to make you feel better?”
“How?” she asked.
“Can I show you?”
After a quiet pause, she gave the smallest nod.
Oliver leaned closer, his lips brushing against the side of her neck. Then, carefully, he pressed a slow kiss there, testing.
Del gasped, her hand twitching against the sheets, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy. Noticing this, he stopped immediately.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked quietly, almost like he was afraid of scaring her further.
She hesitated. A few long seconds passed before she whispered, “No.”
He shifted closer, his chest molding against her back until she felt surrounded by him, his longer frame curling easily around hers. Lowering his head, he pressed his forehead to the slope of her shoulder, the angle forcing him to dip down over her. His nose traced a faint path along her skin before his lips trailed upward, brushing just beneath her ear and down the side of her neck, lingering with little pauses like he was letting her know he wouldn’t push further than she allowed.
Del’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening around the pillow she clutched. She had never been touched like this before. It made her chest feel tight, like she couldn’t quite breathe right.
Then Oliver’s arm curled gently around her waist but didn’t pull—just rested there.
“Still okay?” he murmured against her skin.
She gave the smallest nod, her voice so faint he almost missed it. “Yeah.”
His hand slid a little lower, resting over her stomach. He didn’t push further, just kept his palm there while his lips moved over her neck in light, teasing kisses. Sometimes he let his tongue drag softly over her skin, followed by a faint pull of his mouth that made her let out tiny, unsteady breaths she hadn’t meant to.
Oliver smiled against her neck when he heard them. “Feels good?”
Her cheeks burned. “Yes.”
“I won't stop then,” he whispered, and his mouth curved into another kiss just below her jaw.
Del closed her eyes, trying not to let him hear the way her breathing betrayed her. She wanted to tell him to stop talking, stop noticing. But the words stayed trapped in her throat, tangled up in the rush of nerves and heat spreading through her chest.
Oliver’s mouth lingered against her neck, each kiss deeper than the last. The slow press of his lips gave way to small trails of his tongue, tasting her skin in quiet passes, and when he drew on her lightly with his mouth, she shivered.
Then his hand moved again, moving lower, brushing the side of her waist before curving around to her stomach again. Even through the soft fabric of her shirt, he could feel the rise and fall of her belly. His palm rested there again and then began to move in slow circles.
“Is this better?” he whispered, his lips grazing her skin as he spoke.
Del didn’t answer. Her body gave him the only reply she seemed able to manage—a quiet inhale, her belly pulling beneath his touch.