Chapter 24

Chapter 24


OLIVIA

I didn’t know what came over me. Maybe it was the way he said that “Do you ever stop talking?” or the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Either way, something in my chest fluttered, and I forgot how to breathe properly.

“You don’t seem to mind when I talk,” I muttered, trying to sound casual, but my voice came out softer than I meant. He tilted his head slightly, that knowing look in his eyes, and suddenly the room felt too small.

Ryan stood there, still and calm, but I could tell something was running wild beneath that calm surface. His hand brushed through his hair, and the veins on his forearm flexed, catching the dim light. I looked away too fast, my face burning.

He chuckled under his breath. “You’re blushing.”

“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Ryan—”
He laughed again, and I hated that it made me smile.

“I’m serious,” I said quickly. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes not.
“Like you’re reading my mind,” I shot back.

He didn’t deny it. He just stared for another heartbeat before sighing. “You should get some rest, Olivia.”

“There you go again,” I whispered, almost to myself. “Acting like I’m some kid who can’t handle her emotions.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” he said, quieter this time. “I’m trying to be decent.”

I frowned. “Decent?”

He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “You’re standing in my room, looking at me like that. I’m not made of stone.”

The words hit me harder than they should have. My stomach twisted, and I had no idea what to do with my hands anymore.

“I didn’t mean to—”
“I know you didn’t,” he interrupted. “That’s why it’s worse.”

I blinked, confused. “Worse?”

He rubbed his forehead, looking like he was fighting himself. “Because you make me forget that I shouldn’t want this. Any of it.”

My heart jumped to my throat. “You… you want this?”

He didn’t answer. Not out loud, anyway. His silence was enough. His gaze trailed from my face down to where my fingers twisted in my dress. And that was the moment everything in me stilled.

“Ryan,” I breathed, his name tasting strange in my mouth. He looked up again, and something inside me snapped a little. “Then stop pretending.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” I took a step closer without thinking. “Why can’t you, just once, stop being so… perfect? So controlled?”

He laughed once, bitterly. “Because if I lose control, Olivia, you won’t walk out of this room the same.”

My breath caught. The air felt thick, charged, dangerous in a way that made me tremble, not from fear but from something deeper. I should have left. I should have said goodnight, turned around, and walked away. But my body didn’t move.

Instead, I whispered, “Maybe I don’t want to walk out the same.”

That broke him.

He ran a hand over his face, muttering something under his breath before turning away from me. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t,” he snapped, his voice low but rough, like it hurt to say it. “You think this is simple. You think it’s just tension or curiosity or whatever this thing is between us. But it’s not. It’s messy, Olivia. It’s dangerous.”

“Then why are you still here?” I whispered. “If it’s so dangerous, why didn’t you walk away?”

He froze.
That one second of silence told me everything.

I swallowed, trying to steady my voice. “You had a hundred chances to push me away. But you didn’t.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he’d tell me to leave. Instead, he turned back toward me, his eyes softer now, conflicted. “You make it really hard to do the right thing.”

“Then stop trying to.”

He exhaled sharply, like the words stung. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Then make me understand,” I said. “Because all I see is you fighting something that’s already happening.”

He looked at me for a long, unbearable moment, and then he shook his head slowly. “You’re trouble.”

“Maybe,” I whispered. “But you like trouble.”

That earned a half-smile from him — tired, crooked, but real. “You don’t even know how right you are.”

I stepped closer, just close enough to feel the warmth radiating off him. His eyes darkened slightly, and I swear, I could almost feel the war going on inside him. My hand lifted, hesitated, then landed lightly on his arm.

He tensed. Every muscle in him went rigid.

“Ryan,” I whispered, “just tell me to leave if you want me gone.”

He didn’t.
He didn’t say anything.

He just looked at me with that same conflicted stare, that quiet storm in his eyes, and then — just like that — he stepped back, running a hand through his hair again.

“You should go before I forget why I shouldn’t stop you,” he muttered.

I nodded slowly, my chest tightening. “Okay.”

But before I left, I turned back once more. “You know what the funny part is?”

He looked up, tired but curious. “What?”

“I don’t think you’re half as careful as you pretend to be.”

He gave a small, helpless smile. “Goodnight, Olivia.”

I lingered for just a heartbeat before whispering, “Goodnight,” and walking out.

The hallway felt colder. Quieter. My legs felt shaky, my heart loud. I leaned against the door for a second, closing my eyes.

He was right — it was dangerous.
But for the first time, I didn’t care.

Becau
se when he looked at me tonight, he didn’t see a mistake.
He saw me.
And maybe that was the real danger all along.