Hate Thy Neighbor - S.M. Soto Page 0,119

response is always the same. “I will.” But he never does.

When I hear his footsteps retreat and the door close behind him, I face back toward Olivia’s house. She’s avoiding me. I just wish I knew why. Every time I go over and knock on her door, she doesn’t answer it, but when it comes to calling and texts? She answers right away.

I’m not usually one to sit back and let shit like this play out, but I’m so out of my element here, and I don’t exactly know how to go about handling this. Do I go over and demand she open the door and let me in? What if this distance is because she just can’t adjust to being around Ryder? Or worse, could it be that asshole Travis? Is something going on between them? She’s been coming home later than usual. Olivia doesn’t strike me as the type to do that, but you can never be too sure. Especially with the way she’s acting.

There’s a long list of shit that’s bothering me, but at the top of that list is the curtains in her bedroom. They’re shut. And those fucking curtains are never closed. I don’t know what changed, what happened that made her suddenly close them. It feels like her way of closing me out. And I fucking hate it.

With a frustrated growl, I reach for my phone, shooting off a text to her.

Roman: Come over?

Her response is immediate.

Olivia: I’m already in bed. I had a really long day. Talk tomorrow?

My grip tightens around my phone, and I chuck it at my bed. It slams against the leather headboard, flopping back lifelessly onto the pillows.

Saying to hell with it, I grab my house keys and march next door. I leave Max back at home with Ryder, and once I’m on her doorstep, I ring the doorbell.

Silence.

Nothing but silence.

Growing agitated, I start pounding on the door. “Olivia, open the door. I’m not leaving until we talk.”

This time, I hear footfalls on the other side of the wood. I can practically envision her peeking through the peephole, on her tiptoes watching me. When she still doesn’t open the door, I resort to knocking again.

“Olivia, I’m not kidding. I’ll wait here all night if I have to. You gotta come out sometime.”

I hear her deep sigh, then the click of the lock mechanism. She opens the door, but only slightly, since the chain lock is still attached at the top. My lips thin into a grim line. For someone who swore she was tired, she doesn’t look all that exhausted.

“Rome, I told you I was tired. Can’t we talk tomorrow?”

Gripping the doorframe, I brace my weight there, trying like hell not to lose my shit with her. I’m becoming increasingly impatient, the longer she leaves me standing out here.

“That doesn’t work for me, Liv. Let me in.”

Heaving a sigh, Olivia closes the door softly, and I hear the chain slide across. When she opens it again, her eyes are looking at everything and anything but me. Taking the door from her, I close it behind me, invading her space.

“Mind telling me what the fuck is going on?”

She crosses her arms over her chest as though she’s shielding herself from me, and I don’t like it one bit. “There’s nothing going on, Rome. Is it a crime to be tired?”

“Tired? You’re tired?” I scoff. “That’s not what this is, Olivia. If this thing, whatever this is between us is done, then just fucking say it. Don’t drag this out and make it more than it needs to be.”

Her eyes swing up to mine, wide with surprise and filled with tears. “Roman, no! That’s not it at all. How could you possibly think I want out? I care about you. So much.”

Her bottom lip trembles, and it only serves to fuel my frustration and my confusion where she’s concerned. “How can I think that? You’ve been avoiding me for days. What the hell else am I supposed to think, Olivia?”

Her shoulders sag. “I’ve just…I’ve been busy, and I’m tired.”

“You don’t think I’m tired, Olivia? Jesus Christ, I still find time to talk to you, though, don’t I? Why don’t you just be honest? Is it Travis? You’ve been spending an awful lot of time at the clinic.”

All the color drains from her face, and she stumbles back, like I’ve struck her. “Travis? How could you possibly think that?”

“What else am I supposed to think?” I yell. It’s the first time I’ve

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