Ceaseless Chains Copyright © 2020 xXMopelXx All Rights Reserved.

Chapter posted - August 14, 2020

Playlist Song: Jhene Aiko - Stay Ready (What A Life)

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C H A P T E R  7

Teagan

Well, that went spectacularly.

I stepped outside of 1001 Nights and straight into the dark and rainy evening, still riding on the high from my performance and conversation with Mickey, where he informed me that I secured the job. I'd have to return to sign official paper works sometime next week.

My mood was slightly dampened when I realized I forgot my umbrella in my car, not expecting this downpour.

Technically, I parked a street away. A quick mental calculation told me if I ran in my stilettos, I could make it to my car in two minutes.

Despite the fact that I was standing under the awning, a bit of rain still managed to hit the train of my dress and get beneath the soles of my feet, causing a clammy feeling where I felt like I was slipping in my own heels.

No way could I make it to my car in two minutes. Forget sprinting.

A few men loitered outside. They looked as though they'd stepped out from the bottom restaurant portion. Most smoked, while only one seemed to be under the influence.

When they cast me a suggestive glance, I glared back. I was tough, tall, and hard to intimidate. And, if I was, I rarely showed it. Plus, I'd taken enough self-defense classes to feel comfortable in my own skin. My car keys were a great weapon, I'd learned in my early years.

Just when I thought one would say something lewd, the entrance door burst open and brought on a hulking Oliver, along with the trickling of restaurant conversation and soft jazz. It muted when the door closed behind him.

"What are you looking at?" he barked, all authoritative in his deep baritone, at the leering men. "Keep your eyes to yourself."

Oliver turned sideways to face me. "Sorry. Rob is usually guarding the entrance to ward off situations like these, but I guess he's on break."

"You didn't have to do that. I was fine."

"I have no doubt. But I'm here, so I can."

"You weren't always there." The words blurted out of me, uncalled for, signifying that my heart and mind weren't in sync if I was throwing the past at him.

What caused me to even utter that? I was still on cloud nine from the good news Mickey had delivered. That was the only thing that could have caused me to say something so provoking. You weren't always there. Otherwise, I never tried to disbalance our scale.

Our scale. That was a thing. Oliver stood on one side of the spectrum, while I remained on the other. Our safe distance kept us balanced. Our emotions stayed hidden and our true selves safe from our own judgements.

After all, judgement from those who mattered hurt the most. Tonight, it occurred to me that we still mattered to each other, even when we tiptoed around our connection. It was written in his posture as he stood against the wall, arms crossed, those whiskey eyes drinking me in.

Oliver smirked ruefully because he knew the truth. "I know. I'm here now, aren't I?"

And he was.

He was here and his proximity, as well as the electrifying energy between us, had me knotted in indescribable ways. We usually danced around one another and played the avoidance game, but lately our routine had been broken and a new pattern drummed into the beat.

The kind of pattern where now, we were constantly in the same vicinity, as if a stronger pull from above caused this. Now we were forced to become accustomed to this new footing.

Like newly acquainted dance partners, Oliver and I studied each other, commemorating each curve, plane, and edge to memory for later use.

I said before that time had been kind to Oliver and I meant every single word. I kept noticing it with every encounter we were thrown in. However, right now, under the gleaming of 1001 Nights' cinema-style neon sign, I was seeing him in another light.

The wallpaper image I'd had stamped of old Oli slowly crumbled, and in it's place was plastered the one before me.

My mind raked through his appearance, breaking it down and filing it for later visit.

He looked so utterly masculine and rugged, his muscles straining against the fabric of his black dress shirt. I adored the longish shaggier hair he sported – any longer and he could tie it at the nape. The fact that I was thinking how good that would look should have been alarming. Dark stubble dotted his squared jaw. I went lower, noting the black cigarette pants that highlighted muscular thighs that would, without a doubt, make a girl's mouth sweat and act as a comfortable seat. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his tattoos. A realistic looking moth sitting on a poppy flower on his left hand. His right forearm bore the markings of a wraparound metal chain, shaded in various blacks and greys, melding perfectly with his tan skin. The design was so vivid, so intricate, that when his arm flexed, the chain nearly rippled, coming to life. And God, he wore suspenders. I had this inexplicable urge to run my finger under one and let it snap against his torso, just to see if his body would jerk. It was similar to the urge I'd had a few days ago to claw my nails over his jaw to see him drop a rough exhale.

Mirth swirled in his amber orbs because he knew I was checking him out. He was so effortless. Oliver Abhay Ashford portrayed a salivating male model who belonged on a billboard for men's luxury watches and fragrances. Not a mere speakeasy worker who made lounge singers squirm with a hot glance.

Oliver cleared his throat and tried to bring us back to common ground. I didn't care though. He shamelessly eye-fucked me while I sang, so I was entitled to this. "You were incredible back there, Teagan. Goddamn, your voice."

My heart pounded. "Thank you." So Canadian of me.

"Mickey is going to give you the gig. There's no other way. None of the auditions were as amazing as you were tonight."

"Actually, he just hired me." I gauged his reaction. "I'll be working weekend nights, starting next week."

A genuine grin graced him, revealing a row of pearly whites. "Congratulations, darling."

Darling. If I closed my eyes, I could hear it. Years ago. Oliver's mouth at my ear, husky teenage voice, calling me nothing but his darling. We used to watch this British soap where the main character called his love conquests darlings and we found it funny. It became our own inside joke. Oliver could have had an array of willing girls in the past, but I didn't care. I'd been his only darling.

Another urge overcame me. I wanted to throw my arms around his shoulders and just hold him to me. It would be unfamiliar territory and disbalance our scale.

Instead, I snagged his hand in mine and squeezed quickly, before dropping it. His imprint remained on my palm. "Thanks, Olive Oil."

The cringy old name led to a short laugh from him, followed by mischief entering his expression. It was wonderful how one trace of nostalgia could morph someone's entire features.

Hearing Oliver's throaty laughter was amazing, highlighted by the rainfall's pitter-patter in the background. "Teagan, I've been meaning to ask you something serious."

"Tell me," I said softly.

"Are you still looking for a place to stay? A roommate?"

"Yes. Did Cher tell you?"

"Yeah." He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, causing his bicep to bulge. "Look, I bought a new place three months ago and I need someone to cover the cost. I was wondering if you'd consider. It's big enough, vacant bedroom, and everything is included. I swear, we wouldn't even be in each other's face. Maybe, uh, just at work now, you know."

I was not expecting that. Even though I tried to discipline my features, my shock betrayed me. He didn't even ease into the request, but maybe because he'd been contemplating asking me this for awhile. Judging by the hard set of his mouth and brows, I could tell this idea looped in his brain many times.

I knew he purchased the condo with his ex-girlfriend and now she was out of the picture. Made perfect sense that he looked around for a new roommate. But me?

I found it hard to believe that he didn't find anyone already. I'd heard my friends raving about his new place. "Why me?"

Oliver let out a long exhale, martyr style. "My little brother Grayson has a situation. This way he can come visit me and I can provide him with a good environment. Frankly, I wouldn't trust him around a random stranger of a roommate. I actually know you."

I just stared at him, so he continued.

"You know how my grandparents are," he muttered, waving a dismissive hand in the air. "I mean, I'm just assuming you remember–"

"–I do remember."

"Right. Grayson...He's miserable and I'm getting worried for him. He's too young to be having some of the thoughts he is and if I can fix that, I will. I just want him to be able to come over, sleep some nights, and help take his mind off it all."

And he needed someone secure around his baby brother, because Oliver always harbored a protective streak for his loved ones. I totally understood it. He trusted me, he was saying, in indirect words. "And you think I'll fit the bill."

Oliver nodded and puffed out a breath that billowed in the air. "You're kind of my last option. The solution to my dilemma. You don't have to give me a concrete answer now, but will you please think about it? I know I've just sprung a lot onto you."

It was a bit to take in. "Okay. I will."

"Cool. I can send Cher pictures of my place and you can have a look. I'm in a safe and family-oriented neighbourhood in case you're wondering."

"Alright."

This evening took a whole new turn that I wasn't expecting. I wanted to sleep on all this information before making a decision. I didn't say no outright, just to pacify him. The fact that Oliver approached me with this confirmed that he definitely didn't hate me, which I appreciated more than I could convey.

I tilted my head to the side, towards the street. "I should get going."

"Is your car parked far? Hold up. Let me grab an umbrella from inside and I'll walk you."

I didn't even get a chance to say anything in response before he dived back inside. Less than ten seconds later, he emerged with a black umbrella.

He opened it and I stepped underneath, trying to keep distance between us. It was impossible, given the tight space, of course. "You good?"

"Yes – thank you. That way." I pointed my finger to our left, then fisted my dress so my train wouldn't drag across the wet pavement.

Oliver turned his head down to me. Suddenly, I felt small against him even though my forehead reached his gaze in my high heels. My eyes devoured the small tattoo beneath his ear – the word rascal written vertically in elegant black scripture – before they fell down to his Adam's apple riffling up and down at my nearness. He was just as affected as me.

Slowly we started walking down the dwindling path and I tried my best to sidestep all the cracks in the concrete. Like a gentleman, Oliver held the umbrella and stayed on the outskirt of the sidewalk and kept me on the inside. Oncoming passersby caused us to move closer into one another, which eventually led to Oliver putting a warm palm to my lower back to guide me into place. I felt the warmth of it seeping all the way into my muscles, my bones.

"You look beautiful tonight," he murmured.

We were nearing my car. We just needed to cross the road. "You, too."

"I look beautiful?" His mouth twitched.

No. You look fucking delicious, and I'm feeling needy. "I meant handsome."

His fist at my back bunched my dress, his knuckles grazing my bare back. Almost like a taunt, a warning. My breath hitched. I tilted my head to look at him, just as he gazed downwards.

Out of nowhere, two passing cars drove well over the speed limit, splashing us both with rain water. Oliver twisted his body to shield me, but it was too late. I wheezed in unison with his growl. We were both soaked, and my fingers gripped the crooks of his elbow, my body shaking.

"Fuck," he hissed.

My dress was drenched and so were Oliver's clothes. Things got even worse when a gust of wind blew past us and inverted the umbrella. We gasped mutually, instinctively moving closer within seconds – Oliver's fingers at my back clenched and dragged me into his heat. Still transfixed over what happened, he panted and my mouth hovered so close that his fanning exhale became my inhale. I held him tighter. "Oli."

"Tee," he whispered gruffly.

We snapped out of our trance when a car honked at us, clawing at the umbrella together to straighten it. "I-I'm parked across the street."

Nothing more was said as we rushed through the road, Oliver continued to usher me with his ever-present hand. I threw open my car door, but he clutched my forearm, halting me. He pulled me closer into his body, his warmth. Further than previously. "Don't drive yet. Wait until the rain simmers down," he rasped, his voice barely audible over the downpour.

Water droplets managed to get into my hair, dribbling down to my eyes, and coasting over my lips. I licked them clean. "I will."

He chin-jutted in understand. Before he could go back to work, I weaved my fingers around his wrist, stopping him. His eyes widened when I quickly dropped an impersonal kiss on his jawline – I gave in to one inexplicable impulse. "Thank you, Oliver."

My lipstick stamp looked possessive on him.

"Anytime," he croaked.

I settled comfortably in my car – as comfortably as someone with wet attire could. Oliver closed the car door and waited a beat, until I waved at him. His expression was blurry, courtesy of the rain sheets falling all around my car, curtaining me. But I knew he saw me.

With hunched shoulders and clothes that clung to him like a second skin, I watched my ex-best friend thread his way back to work.

We were amateurs to this new dance, but I knew – from the way sparks flew at our touch – we were close to mastering it. 

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A/N: Whoaa. This was the chapter that made me fall in love with writing Oli and Tee. I hope you enjoyed it as well! He finally asked her - what do you think she'll say?! Oli's tattoos? Teagan giving ya'll a bit of femdom energy yet? I'm going to try to write a dominant male and female lead so lol let's see how that goes. What did you think of their rainy moment?

 Twitter: MajestyMarzy

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Chapter goal: 350? x