What the fuck is he doing here? How is he here? Why is he here? My tongue feels too heavy to ask any of that, and my hands are grasping the bench tight enough to ache. I sort of want to throw something at him and run away, so I don’t have to face how much I love him or how much it hurts. But judging by Olu’s expression, if I really wanted to avoid him, I’d have to throw something pretty damn big. Because he looks determined.
