He ends the stream and I groan, thankful when my laptop is closed and slid to the floor.
“Are you okay? You were so good for me,” Oliver promises, pulling off my mask and then his. “Do you want anything?” From his backpack, he procures a bottle of water, which he holds out to me.
I eye him, surprised at the softness in his tone. “You’re being really nice,” I say finally, taking the water but not getting up. “I thought you’d… leave? Or, I don’t know what I thought.” My inhibitions are back in full force, reminding me of all the reasons this had been a bad idea.
“Not until I know you’re okay. Here. Do you want to put these on? Would it make you more comfortable?” He stands and buttons his jeans, though I half wish I’d gotten a better view of his cock. I can tell how big it is, based on what it had felt like inside me, but I’d still like toseeit as well.
I stomp down on that thought, trying to pretend it had never hit me as he sits back down with my clothes in his hands.
“Thanks,” I murmur, tugging on my shorts and tee. “Do you think my viewers liked what we did?”
“I think you have so many new viewers you won’t know what to do with them,” Oliver replies. “Did you see how much you made today? Even without Rook?”
I shake my head.
“Over six hundred dollars with him. Without, around three fifty.”
“Holyshit,” I breathe, eyes wide. “That’s so much.”
“I know.” He sounds thrilled for me, his eyes bright. “I’m glad I could help you,” he tells me, leaning over to brush his lips so sweetly against mine. “I didn’t hurt you, did I Blair?”
“No,” I tell him honestly, only needing a second to think about it. “No, I’m really okay.”
“Good. Rook would’ve killed me, if I had. And I would’ve been pretty upset too.” He kisses my forehead and stands up, stretching. “I’ll see you later? I have to go get some work done for my thesis, but next time, maybe?”
“Next time,” I agree stupidly, not following my own creed on what Ishouldbe doing and saying. “Thank you, by the way. It was pretty unorthodox, but I appreciate it. And you.”
“Anytime,” he assures me, and hooks his backpack over his shoulder. “After all, it wasn’t exactly a hardship. And I really am looking forward to next time.” Without giving me a chance to do more than sit up, he breezes out of the room, whistling.
Chapter 22
Ilook up from my mug of hot chocolate, still staring at the darkening sky. Then I blink and suddenly tune in to the words on the tv behind me, where Juniper is lounging with her arm over her eyes on our long sofa.
“Turn it up,” I request, spinning away from the window and falling onto the uninhabited part of the sofa.
She moves her arm enough to open her eyes to slits, hand groping for the remote so she can point it in the direction of the television and hit the volume button.
“Another detective says that, even though they had been looking for a new suspect, the likely killer is someone they’ve looked into before.” The news anchor sounds stern, and her face is set in a grim expression that I can’t help but feel is pretty appropriate for the situation.
My heart catches in my throat as an unsteady camera comes around the edge of the news van, a voice yelling their innocence loudly. It sounds like a man, but past that, I can’t tell.
Is it Oliver? Is it Rook? My stomach plummets at the thought, my ribs tightening around my lungs. I should be happy that Oliver has been caught if it is him. I should be relieved…because he is amurdererand he’s killing people that look like my roommate.
I shouldn’t be a nervous wreck as my eyes search the screen for any sign of his face or their house. I shouldn’t want to jump to my feet and call them to ask if they’re all right.
I shouldn’t care this much, or have any kind of need in my system for the cops to be wrong. Setting the hot chocolate down, I try not to sigh loudly in relief when the camera zooms in and focuses on the man’s face.
It isn’t Oliver, and it isn’t Rook. It’s someone I don’t know, and my eyes narrow as I watch him howl and spit his innocence at the cops and the reporters both. How did they come to the conclusion that it was him?
Rook’s unworried face flickers into my mind, and I frown. Was it him? Had he planted the evidence on some innocent guy to make him take the fall for Oliver? The thought is terrifying enough, but the one that comes after is even more so.
What if he’s done this before?After all, an open case would probably point to Oliver, eventually. But if the case was closed, with a suspect that everyone believed had done it and reasonable motivations to do so, then no one would ever think it was Oliver, would they?
If the motivations were strong enough, even if the suspect couldn’t be sent to jail, public opinion would still be against them.
“The suspect, Walter Mowes, has been convicted of two hate crimes against the Asian community in the past two years. Police are investigating further, but have found both evidence and motivation for the murders of Mikaela Hayes and a college student found earlier this autumn.”I wonder why they haven’t released her name yet, but the thought just rolls on off of me as I sigh.
They haven’t been caught. Neither of them, even though it seems wild to me that they’re getting away with this so cleanly. Is it Rook’s talent to find someone to take the fall for them? One who has enough motive to keep the cops occupied for months, if not forever? Or is that just something they’re good at getting lucky with?