Chapter 221: A Man’s Shirt
Vicky’s POV
I was woken up by the bright light shining on my face, and when I opened my eyes, the merciless sun blinded me, and then, I felt it... The aftermath of my drunkenness last night.
My head felt like it was going to crack anytime soon. I need to take some medicine fast, this is unbearable. My brain throbbed so badly I was ready to swear off alcohol for life. Today of all days—it’s Nick’s birthday, and if I showed up like this, Mom would surely kill me.
I pushed myself up, groaning... only for my eyes to snap open in horror. This wasn’t my room!
My heart raced as I yanked the covers down, searching for answers. I was no longer wearing a dress, but a t-shirt that’s not mine, and worse, it’s a man’s shirt!
What the heck happened last night?
Did I go home to a man’s house after a one-night stand?
I remember planning to continue drinking once the hotel staff kicked us out of the grand ballroom. Did I really go to a bar after the party?
Where the hell am I?!
I stood up and saw my dress neatly folded on a chair. I took it and it’s not just my dress, even my underwear was on it and they’re fresh from the laundry!
I took them, and then I saw it. A familiar stuffed dog. The one I gave Oliver years ago sitting on the other chair.
I looked around and noticed some of the things that he owns, which I had seen before in his apartment.
Wait. Oliver?
I looked out the window and saw that it’s a different neighborhood. Did he move?
I put my clothes back on the chair and went out of the room. The moment I opened the door, the smell of garlic and other herbs and spices wafted through the air, making my stomach growl. I opened the door wide and saw Oliver cooking in the kitchen.
I scanned the place, and it’s way bigger than the previous apartment he had. More modern with an open concept living, dining, and kitchen.
He glanced over his shoulder after hearing me close the door, a smile tugging his lips. "Good morning. Come here—I made hangover soup. Medicine’s on the table too. You can take it on an empty stomach, go ahead and drink it, breakfast is almost ready."
I did as he told me and slid into a seat at the dining table, still feeling the dull pounding in my head. "When did you move here?" I asked, curiosity slipping past my lips before I could stop it.
"Right after I won Nick’s case," Ollie replied casually, but his eyes flicked toward me as if he was checking my reaction. "Your dad and Nick gave me a huge bonus, so I bought this place. Three bedrooms. One’s my office, another’s a guest room—so my sisters and grandma have somewhere to stay when they visit the city."
I glanced around, taking in the modern space, the open layout that screamed ’grown-up Oliver’. "It’s nice. I like it," I said softly, reaching for the coffee on the table just to hide the little smile tugging at my lips.
He slid a plate of garlic rice and sausage in front of me, his movements smooth, familiar. "Eat. You were ridiculously drunk last night and threw up so much that I almost thought I had to rush you to the hospital. Garlic and rice will help with the hangover and the hyperacidity," he explained, his tone half-teasing, half scolding, before sitting across from me.
"Why did you bring me here?" I asked, narrowing my eyes, though my heart was already racing at the thought.
"I tried waking you up when we got to your place, but you wouldn’t budge. I don’t know your house code, and Nick and Liam weren’t answering their phones. So..." He shrugged, pouring soup into a bowl for me. "I brought you here instead."
I took a sip of coffee, studying him over the rim of the mug. The words slipped out before I could think twice. "It’s your birthday. In six digits."
He froze mid-motion, his eyes snapping up to mine, startled.
"I’m sorry, what?" he asked, his voice low, almost husky with surprise.
I froze too. Why the fuck did I say it? What’s wrong with me today? Must be the hangover, yes, it’s because of that.
"The house code is your birthday. Just in case... you know... emergency purposes, and both my brothers are unreachable..." The words tumbled out of me faster than I could stop them.
Mortification hit me the moment they left my mouth, and I drowned my embarrassment with another gulp of coffee, praying he wouldn’t notice how red my face was turning.
"I see," Oliver murmured, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "That makes it easy for me to remember, then."
My heart skipped, traitorous, at the way he said it, like it meant more than I wanted it to.
Breakfast was... safe. Neutral. We stuck to talking about work, avoiding anything personal, like we were both afraid of what might slip out if we strayed too far. Until, finally, it was time to get moving.
"You’re going to your mom’s too, right?" Ollie asked casually as he leaned back in his chair, though his eyes didn’t leave me.
"Yes," I replied. "Are you?"
"Yup. You can shower first, then we’ll head there right after."
"B-but..." I fumbled, heat rushing up my neck. "I need to swing by my place to change clothes. And, Ollie... really? I appreciate you doing the laundry, but did you really have to include my underwear?" My voice came out half-teasing, half-accusing.
"Yes," he replied simply, not even flinching. "You vomited on yourself last night while sitting on the bathroom floor. Some of it went under your dress while you were sitting there. So, yeah. I had to wash everything." He said it so nonchalantly, like it was nothing.
I wanted to disappear into the floor. My entire face was on fire. Why did I even ask?!
"There’s a paper bag in the bathroom vanity," he added, standing up to clear the table like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You can wear what’s inside to your mom’s. If we stop by your house, we’ll be late, and we both know we don’t want her fuzzy."
I scrambled to my feet to help, grabbing my plate to cover my embarrassment, but Ollie was faster. He plucked it right from my hand, his fingers brushing mine for just a second too long.
"No need to help me," he said, his voice dropping just enough to make my chest tighten. "Just go take a warm shower. Wash the hangover off completely."
My breath hitched before I quickly nodded and rushed back to the room, not just to shower, but to escape the stupid humiliation I brought upon myself and the fact that Oliver Morris was way too good at making me feel both flustered and... seen.
I just wish that things between us were different... That we are different. Then perhaps we wouldn’t have to act this way.