I stood awkwardly by the door, my fingers twisting the strap of my bag like it was the only thing keeping me grounded. Reid's house was exactly what I expected from a 19-year-old boy who seemed to live in a perpetual state of chaos. The living room was sparse, with a gray leather sofa that looked like it had been through a war, a mismatched coffee table cluttered with empty soda cans, and a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. The walls were bare except for a single poster of some band I didn't recognize. The whole place felt... impersonal. Like Reid had never really moved inâor maybe he just didn't care enough to make it feel like home.
Reid smirked at me from across the room, his arms crossed as he leaned against the doorway to what I assumed was the kitchen. "Are you going to stand there the whole time like a security guard?" he teased, his British accent making the words sound even more mocking.
I shifted uncomfortably, my cheeks burning. "What now?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Shower," he said simply, his smirk widening as my breath hitched. He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Relax, I mean I'll be showering. You should order something. I'm starving." He tossed his phone onto the coffee table and disappeared down the hallway, leaving me alone in the unfamiliar space.
I exhaled slowly, trying to steady my racing heart. My eyes landed on a stack of brochures on the table, and I picked one upâa local takeout menu. I quickly placed an order before setting my phone back down. My curiosity got the better of me, and I began to wander around the room, my fingers trailing over the surfaces as I took in the lack of personal touches. No photos, no trinkets, nothing that gave any insight into who Reid really was.
My gaze landed on the fireplace, where a single picture frame sat on the mantel, turned upside down. I hesitated for a moment before reaching for it, my fingers brushing against the cool glass. Just as I was about to turn it over, a hand shot out from behind me, grabbing the frame and placing it back down.
"How did I know I'd find you snooping?" Reid's voice was low, teasing, and far too close for comfort.
I spun around, my heart pounding. He stood there, fresh out of the shower, his hair damp and tousled, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt that clung to his frame in all the right places. He looked... good. Too good. My brain short-circuited for a moment, and I struggled to form a coherent sentence.
"I wasn't snooping," I managed to say, my voice trembling slightly.
Reid smiled, a slow, knowing smile that made my stomach flip. He took a step closer, and I instinctively took a step back, my back hitting the wall. He didn't stop until he was right in front of me, his arms caging me in. "Did you order?" he asked, his voice soft.
I nodded, my breath catching in my throat. "What did you order?" he pressed, his eyes searching mine.
"Why do we have to talk in this position?" I countered, my voice barely above a whisper.
Reid tilted his head, his smirk returning. "Why? do I make you nervous?" he asked, his tone playful but with an undercurrent of something deeper.
I rolled my eyes, pushing past him to go sit on the sofa. I didn't miss the way his smirk widened as I walked away. He followed me, sitting on the opposite sofa, a towel still draped over his shoulders. The silence between us was heavy, filled with unspoken questions and tension.
"Why am I here again?" I muttered to myself, more to fill the silence than anything else. Right-I had come for answers. Answers I was sure Reid wasn't ready to give. My eyes flicked to the mantel, where the upside-down picture frame still sat. I wondered who was in that photo, why he had hidden it away.
My gaze shifted to Reid, and I noticed the cut on his lip, the redness on his face from where Red had slapped him earlier. "Got a first aid kit?" I asked, my voice softer than I intended.
Reid pointed to the kitchen cabinet without a word, and I got up to retrieve it. I placed the kit on the coffee table in front of him and nudged it toward him, but he just shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. "My arm's sore from the swimming match," he said, his tone light. "You should probably do it."
I hesitated for a moment before opening the kit and pulling out the antiseptic and a cotton pad. I knelt in front of him, my fingers trembling slightly as I reached up to clean the cut on his lip. The room was silent except for the sound of our breathing, the tension between us palpable. I could feel his eyes on me, watching my every move, and it made my skin prickle with awareness.
"Why'd you do it?" Reid asked suddenly, his voice serious.
I paused, my hand hovering over his face. "Stop her? It was none of your business," he continued, his tone softer now.
"I couldn't stand by and watch you getting hurt like that," I said quietly, my eyes meeting his.
"Why?" he pressed, his gaze searching mine.
I frowned, unsure of how to answer. Why had I stepped in?
"Because it was the right thing to do."
"Would you have done the same for anyone else?"
The answer came to me almost immediately. "No," I said, my voice steady. "I wouldn't have stepped in if it was anybody else."
Reid didn't respond, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched between us, making my nerves twist in my stomach. I was about to stand up and put the first aid kit away when his voice broke through the quiet.
"Not even Oliver?" he asked, his tone casual but with an edge that made my heart skip a beat.
I froze, my mind racing. Why would he ask about Oliver? Why did it matter? I swallowed hard, forcing myself to answer. "Not even Oliver," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Reid was quiet, his eyes never leaving mine. The air between us felt charged, electric, and I couldn't tell if I wanted to run or stay. The sound of the doorbell ringing broke the moment, and Reid flinched, his eyes darting to the door. My stomach twistedâcould it be Red? Or one of Reid's many hookups?
"I'll get it," Reid said, standing up and grabbing the first aid kit from me. He walked to the door, and I held my breath until I heard his voice greeting the delivery person. Relief washed over me as he returned with the food, setting it down on the coffee table.
I stood up, reaching for my bag. "I should go," I said, my voice shaky.
Reid caught my wrist, his grip gentle but firm. "You can't expect me to eat all this alone," he said, his tone light but with a hint of something more.
"It's getting late," I protested, though I didn't pull away.
"Stay over then," he said, his voice softer now. "Please. I don't want to be alone tonight."
I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest. There was something in his voice, a vulnerability I hadn't heard before, that made me nod. "Fine," I said, setting my bag back down.
We ate in silence, the sound of a sappy romance movie playing in the background. Reid made a snide comment about the movie, mocking the idea of love, and I couldn't help but bristle.
"Love isn't an illusion," I said, my voice sharper than I intended.
Reid raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Only idiots believe in it," he said, his tone teasing.
I didn't respond, my chest tightening. I focused on the movie, my appetite gone. When we finished eating, I got up to do the dishes, my mind racing. Reid offered me a shower, and I accepted, needing a moment to clear my head.
When I emerged, wearing his clothes that were far too big on me, Reid helped me roll up the sleeves, his fingers brushing against my skin. The moment was charged, and I felt my breath catch as he dragged me to the chair, helping me dry my hair. I wondered how many girls he had done this for, how many he had made feel special just to take them to bed.
Once he was done, he ruffled my hair roughly, bringing it over my face, and we teased each other as I ran after him. He led me to the kitchen, where I found myself on the counter, Reid sliding in between my legs. My heart raced, my mind screaming at me to stop, but I couldn't. I knew how this would endâhe would pull away, just like he always did.
And he did. After a few seconds, he stepped back, his expression unreadable. I wasn't surprised, but the disappointment still stung.
"Why do you want to be friends?" I asked finally, my voice barely above a whisper.
Reid leaned against the counter next to the stove, his eyes meeting mine. He smirked, the tension breaking as he made a joke. "Because you're the only one who can put up with my terrible taste in movies," he said, his tone light but with a hint of something deeper. Reid smirks. "Maybe I just like being around you. Why does anyone become friends?"
His words are light, almost dismissive, but I catch the hesitation behind them. He's deflecting, like always. But tonight, I don't want to play along. I take a deep breath, steadying myself. I don't know if this will change anything, but I need to say it.
"I like you."
Reid's smirk falters. His entire body stills as he looks at me, stunned.
"Don't worry," I add quickly before he can say anything. "I don't expect anything from you. I know you don't feel the same way. This is just... for me. So I can move on. So we can actually be friends. Like you want."
His silence stretches between us. He watches me like I'm something fragile, something breakable, and it only makes my chest ache more.
"We can be friends," I continue, my voice quieter now, "but only on my terms. At my pace."
He still says nothing.
"Are you going to say something, or...?" I ask, forcing a small laugh, but it dies quickly. The way he's staring at meâwhy is he so surprised? He must have known. He's Reid Carter. He's probably used to confessions by now.
Finally, he speaks. "What's your pace?"
I huff a small laugh. "I don't know. Until I can be in the same room with you without wanting to jump your pants."
His lips twitch, then he actually smiles, and something tight in my chest loosens. I smile too, relieved, but his next words pull the air right out of me.
"Why do you like me?"
I blink. "I don't know, Reid. Why does anyone like anyone? I just do, okay? Now can we talk about something else? This is getting awkward."
I hop off the counter, eager to put space between us, and Reid follows at a slower pace. His presence lingers too close, too warm.
"So you really want to jump my bones?" His voice is teasing now, familiar, and I roll my eyes.
The tension between us finally easesâuntil a sudden, sharp knock at the door shatters it.
The knock is insistent, urgent.
Reid frowns, moving toward it. When he swings it open, Oliver stands on the other side, his face tight with urgency.
"Where the hell is your phone, mate?" Oliver snaps the moment the door opens.
"I switched it off," Reid replies, confused. "It's... that day again. Red gets really hysterical."
"Yeah, well, she was just rushed to the emergency room. She ingested rat poison."
Reid pales. The color drains so fast it's like Oliver's words punched the life out of him.
For a moment, no one moves.
Reid looks at me. Then Oliver looks at meâreally looks at me. I see the way his gaze flicks over my borrowed clothes, my presence in Reid's house at this hour. I see the moment he misreads the situation, the way something flickers behind his eyes. Hurt.
But then Reid starts pacing, and the moment shatters.
"I need to go see her," he mutters, running a hand through his hair. "I have to go, Iâ"
"Reid," Oliver calls, but Reid isn't listening. He's mumbling to himself, breathing too fast. His hands shake, his jaw clenched too tight. He's unraveling.
He's panicking.
Without thinking, I step forward and grab his face between my hands. "Reid."
His eyes snap to mine, wide, glassy.
"Breathe," I tell him. "Count down from ten."
His lips part like he wants to argue, but instead, he grips my wrists and obeys.
"Ten... nine..." His voice is shaky, breath hitching. Tears spill down his cheeks.
"Eight... seven..."
I keep my hands steady, anchoring him. His grip tightens like I'm the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
"Six... five..." His breaths are still uneven, but the panic is shifting.
"Four... three..."
His forehead leans against mine. My own heart is racing, but I don't move away.
"Two... one."
His shoulders tremble as he exhales, but then his voice breaks completely. "This is all my fault."
A sob rips through him, raw and broken, and I swear I feel it in my bones.
From the corner of my eye, I see Oliver watching us, his expression unreadable. But I can't focus on that right now.
"Are you okay?" Oliver finally asks.
Reid nods, barely. He swipes at his face, composing himself. "I need to see her. Isla, you can stay here ifâ"
"I'm going with you." I cut him off before he can finish.
Oliver frowns. "Islaâ"
"We're wasting time," I say, already heading for the door. "Didn't you say this was urgent?"
Oliver exhales sharply but doesn't argue again.
In the car, Oliver opens the front door for me, but I ignore it, slipping into the backseat with Reid instead. He doesn't protest, just leans against the window, his breathing still uneven.
Oliver stands there for a couple of seconds with the opened door, I feel bad but my worry for Reid trumps my guilt for Oliver.
Without thinking, I reach for his hand. He startles slightly but doesn't pull away.
I trace slow circles into his palm, grounding him.
Is this why he knew how to handle me that night on the hill? Because he's been through it too?
Perfect Reid Carter. Always smirking, always in control. Who would have thought he could fall apart like this? Over her.
He leans his head against my shoulder. His breathing is still uneven, but steadier now.
I want to wrap my arms around him, but I don't. Not after what I just admitted.
We pull up to the emergency room.
Reid is out of the car before it fully stops, disappearing into the hospital. Oliver and I stay behind in the lobby.
The air is thick with unspoken words.
Oliver clears his throat. "This might take a while. Why don't we find somewhere warm to wait? Get a coffee."
I hesitate, glancing in the direction Reid disappeared.
"He'll be fine, Isla." Oliver's voice is softer now, more certain.
I swallow hard. I know I can't avoid this conversation forever.
"Fine," I say, following him.
And just like that, we walk away.
Authors note:
To all the Oliver lovers out there, I'm sorry. ð