Page 16 of The Casualty of Us (Philosophies of the Heart Duet #1)

Chapter Eight

“I love you both so much,” Ollie slurs, hanging off my shoulder on one side and Hayes’s on the other. “By the way.”

We finagle him through the doorway of their dorm, and Holden lets the door close behind us with a bang while calling out, “All clear!”

“Bed,” I order him with a quick glance back, wondering how I ended up one of the most sober ones tonight before pressing, “By the way, what, Ollie?”

Because this shit is just too good to pass up.

“Oh!” he exclaims, head lulling in my direction as we half walk, half carry him to his room. “I’m going to marry Marley. Did you know?”

“No, I didn’t.” I press my lips together to contain a laugh as Hayes scoffs one out on the other side. “Does Marley know this?”

“Not yet,” he sighs woefully. “I’m not sure she’d take it good yet.”

“Well, Ollie.” I push open his bedroom door with my foot, and we try to maneuver through with all of us. “She wouldn’t take it well. Not good.”

“That’s the point.”

“Good call, man,” Hayes adds, laughing quietly under his breath. “When’s the wedding?”

“After…” Ollie yawns as we come up to the bed, fighting to get away from us before taking a single step and faceplanting into it. He mumbles something into the covers that sounds a lot like “After” again, and a quiet snore follows that leaves me laughing more openly this time.

“I’ve never seen Ollie drunk before.” I turn to Hayes, catching the amusement filling his eyes also. “I think I like it.”

“Really?” He tilts his head at me with a flash of surprise. “You two have never partied before?”

“Not really.” I shrug. “Our parents let us have a glass of wine with dinner sometimes and we snuck a few beers here and there but that’s about it.”

“Weird.”

“What is?” I giggle some more, heading to Ollie’s door before stopping to wait for him and watching as he pulls the small trash can right next to the bed.

“Uh, nothing.” He trails after me with a shake of his head. “Just wasn’t the same for me, I guess.”

I step into the living room, snorting softly at Holden’s form halfway on the couch with his legs hanging off the end. “At least he tried.”

Hayes walks over to where he’s lying and lifts his legs, pushing him further onto the couch. “Come on, buddy, that’s it.”

Holden groans but eventually makes it, and Hayes reaches for a blanket someone left lying across the back of the couch. Pulling it down over him and practically tucking him in before stepping back.

I fight against the grin for all of two seconds as he looks up at me, quickly losing the battle and cooing, “Very sweet, Dimples.”

“Whatever.”

A flash of dimples comes before he turns around and calls out softly, “You coming?”

I just stare at his back. “What?”

Apparently having trouble keeping up between the seltzers and—

“Come on.” He looks back at me over his shoulder. “Let’s watch a movie or something.”

“A movie?”

“A movie.” He nods.

“In your room?”

He opens his door with an amused sound before turning back to prop himself against it. “Yeah, O. A movie, in my room, with me.”

“That seems…” My brows fall, and I struggle to find the right way to put it before settling on… “Like a leading idea.”

Our gazes hold as his eyes narrow for a moment before he pushes off the door and walks right back over to invade my space.

“I want you to remember the first time I kiss you, Ophelia,” he states blatantly, making my mouth start to fall open before I quickly snap it shut.

“It won’t be after a party where we’ve both been drinking and you can blow it off the next day.

Now I can either walk you back to your dorm, or we can go watch a movie together where nothing leading is going to happen.

” His dimples twitch. “Except maybe some cuddling.”

“Cuddling?”

“Your choice.” He lifts his hands into the air with a move of surrender and takes a step back. “I’m hopping in the shower real quick, so just let me know what you want to do when I’m out.”

I hold perfectly still as he turns around and disappears into his room, standing there staring and straddling the precipice of something that could definitely turn into more.

Different parts of my mind at war with each other and making equally valid points as the seconds continue to tick by.

Quickly turning into a few minutes before curiosity gets the best of me.

Or at least gives me something to blame my actions on.

Curiosity that has me walking over to quietly close Ollie’s door, not letting myself think too long about it or the choice I’m making before taking a deep breath and heading to Hayes’s room.

Giving his door the same treatment the second I’m over the threshold and turning back around to take in the room.

I let my eyes wander around the dimly lit space, finding that it has the same basic furniture as Ollie’s but with an energy to it that’s all Hayes.

The faint sound of running water draws my attention to where the door to the bathroom is cracked just enough to allow a sliver of light through it. Barely half an inch of space, really.

But that little sliver has my mind quickly supplying a picture that I definitely did not ask for and my heart picking up pace with it.

I jerk my eyes away from the door and take another deep breath, blowing it out slowly while toeing off my boots and looking anywhere else in the room.

Quickly cataloging the clothes that are filling the hamper in the corner and the bookshelves that are filled with vinyl records instead of books.

A lone guitar sits propped up in the corner, and a football is abandoned on the ground not too far from my feet.

I take a few more tentative steps toward the bed that’s covered in a dark green duvet and notice his laptop lying on the nightstand beside it with a book on top of it.

The discovery has me immediately reaching for one of my favorite things, curious as to what he could be reading for his own classes right now and lifting it up to investigate further.

Not at all expecting to find the title of Hamlet .

It has surprise washing through me at the sight of my namesake book and leaves me arguing with myself that it could still be for some class.

That just because he has it doesn’t mean that it’s about—

“I forgot I left that out.”

I jump at Hayes’s soft rasp, head whipping toward the sound and finding him standing in the doorway of the bathroom with his hands stretched up to grasp the top of it.

His face now free of the grim reaper makeup, and a whole freaking cloud of the cedar scent I associate with him being released from the bathroom.

He’s wearing what I’m pretty sure are the same pair of gray joggers he was the first time we met, but his top half is completely bare and still dripping water.

I stare at him with about a hundred questions on the tip of my tongue, swallowing them down at the fall of his brows and warning instead. “It’s not a happy story.”

“Yeah.” He breathes harshly, dropping his hands to step forward and pluck the book from my hand. “I’m starting to get that, I think.”

I purse my lips as he sets it back on top of his laptop. “Are you reading it for a class?”

“Nope.” He turns back to stare down at me, lifting a brow. “I was curious.”

“My mom thought she deserved a happier ending, Ophelia,” I supply quickly, stomach flipping at the unsaid implications and making me rattle off.

“She always said that she was a victim of the misogyny of her time and thought she deserved a happier story, so…” A small shrug leaves me, and I finish quietly, “Me.”

“You.” His eyes narrow playfully, and the next thing I know he’s tackling me onto the bed with a breath of laughter filling the air.

Practically smothering me with his stupid cedar scent before rolling onto his side and propping himself up on a pillow.

His hand goes under his head, and I scowl up at him while righting myself.

Ending with us side by side as I lay my hands over my stomach to quell some of the fluttering there and move my eyes to stare up at the ceiling.

“Your mom sounds nice,” he starts softly again.

“She is, or she can be, if you don’t piss her off,” I agree quickly. “I’m a lot like her. Ollie favors our dad.”

“Yeah.” He reaches over, fingertips starting to trace the lines of my face and practically demanding my attention again. “Ollie’s mentioned how close you two are.”

I turn my head to look up at him, running my eyes over his still-wet hair before dropping them to meet his with the question that’s been bugging me finally slipping free. “Why’d you steal that car?”

His fingertips come to a stop, and we continue to stare at each other for a beat. Something flashes through his eyes that I can’t quite place before he rolls onto his back suddenly, breaking the contact between us with a deep sigh. “Does it matter?”

I turn over onto my side, folding my hands under my head and pulling my knees up while answering honestly. “I’m not sure.”

His face tenses. “I…”

I watch as he swallows visibly, clearly struggling to get it out, with his brows shooting down farther by the second in a way that has me reaching out for his hand.

He goes still for a beat before looking down to where I’m winding our fingers together, and I give him a quick squeeze there.

The comforting gesture that I usually reserve for only my twin being shared in the face of something that I can feel pulling at me inside.

A story that’s not spoken yet but all the more painful for its silence somehow.