Page 76 of Chasing After You

I felt like I needed advice.

Luckily for me, my best friend’s partners were psychopaths.

Yeah, real lucky.

Me:

911, need to talk.

Oliver:

You okay??? I’m kind of in the middle of something, but I can step out if you need

to call.

I took a deep breath and typed out the gist of what had happened. I didn’t want to bother him by calling.

Me:

So, long story short, I had sex with Dorian last night and it was really great, but

then he roofied me and fucked me with a dildo for like 8 hours straight, and that

wasn’t cool.

My phone buzzed, lighting up with an incoming call from Oliver. I quickly tapped the button to answer, a little upset about interrupting whatever it was that he was busy with.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi? Motherfuckinghi, Josh? I don’t know why both of my best friends insist on dropping the most insane shit over text,” Oliver scolded, albeit quietly. I picked up on what sounded like muffled screaming and the twins’ laughter in the background.

“Are you… are you killing someone right now?” I asked, temporarily distracted from my own crisis.

He scoffed, “Of course not.” Pause. “Well,I’mnot.”

“We don’t need to talk, I can just text you.”

“There’s no way I’m answering that cesspool of a text. Heroofiedyou? I knew he was bad news.”

“He’s not bad… he just did a bad thing,” I mumbled into the speaker.

Oliver sighed, pity clear in his voice, “Oh, honey… What did you want advice on?”

“It’s obvious that he doesn’t feel like he did anything wrong, so I’ve been sitting in my room the whole day trying to figure out what to do. I feel like he needs to be punished so that he doesn’t do it again, but how am I supposed to punish someone who feels like they didn’t do anything that warrants punishment?” I rubbed at my aching temples.

“I… don’t think I’m the best person to give you advice.”

“Please, Ollie,” I begged.

“My men do what they want. If I tried to discipline them, they’d laugh and think I was trying to be cute,” he grumbled into the phone.

“So do I just let it go?”That felt wrong.

“No, I just… Let me give you Lane’s number. Call him and see if Greyson will talk to you.”

“Why Greyson?” I asked.

“He’s a therapist, remember? He’s crazy, and I don’t love him, but he probably could give you real advice.No, you’ll ruin those shoes!”he yelled, presumably to Hayes or Hudson.