"Tell me his name. I want to know who has access to bring my girlfriend clothes when she stays over," Oliver demanded softly when he finally pulled back for air. "Glen," Harper muttered and continued kissing him, he fingers running through his wild black hair, gently. Oliver's entire body went still for a moment at the name, his hands freezing in place on her back. The casual way she mentioned Glen– as if he were just some background character in her life– sent a sharp pang of something unfamiliar through his chest. "Glen," he repeated slowly, the name tasting foreign on his tongue. "So, this is the Glen who gets to see you every morning, who know what you look like when you sleep." His grip on her auburn hair tightened slightly as he pulled back just enough to look into her blue green eyes with renewed intensity. The playful mood from moments ago had shifted into something more serious, more possessive. "Tell me about him. Is he your best friend? Your confidant? Because I need to know exactly who I am competing with for your time."
Harper studies Oliver's face trying to figure out why he was acting so differently. "He is my best friend from College," she said softly. Before she can say anything else her phone vibrates on the bedside table. "That must be him saying he is here," she said casually. Oliver's jaw tightened at the casual way she mentioned Glen's arrival, as if it were the most normal thing in the world for her best friend from college to be waiting downstairs while his girlfriend was half-naked in his bed. "Perfect timing," he muttered dryly, releasing her reluctantly as she reached for the phone. She unlocked her phone and read Glen's message.
Glen: "I am here. Hurry up, I have an appointment downtown."
Oliver's icy blue eyes never left her face as he watched her check the message. "Tell him to bring your stuff up here," Oliver instructed firmly, already standing up to grab a pair of boxers from his dresser. "And tell him he has exactly five minutes before I come down there and introduce myself properly," The threat was delivered with a dangerous edge– Oliver's possessive instincts flaring at the thought of another man seeing her in his shirt, knowing she had spent the night in his bed. Harper texts Glen back on here phone.
Harper: "Come on up, I will get my stuff from you by the front door. We are on the top floor."
Then she turned to look at Oliver. For a moment she considered how he has been behaving since she mentioned Glen. "Wait, are you… jealous?" she asked hesitantly. She had never had someone be jealous because of her, so she was not completely confident in her analysis, but Oliver seemed so hostile towards Glen for no reason… Oliver paused mid-step toward his dressed, turning back to face her fully. The raw vulnerability in her question seemed to catch him off guard and for a moment he looked almost flustered. "Jealous? Yes," he admitted gruffly, running a hand through his messy black hair. "I have never been jealous of anyone in my life until now. Until you." He crossed back to the bed where she was still sitting, his expression growing more intense. "Of course I am jealous. Some guy who had known you forever gets to see you in my shirt, knows where you live, probably has pictures of you from college…" Oliver's hands braced on either side of her hips on the mattress, leaning down until his face was level with hers. "I am jealous of every single minute I have not spend with you. Of every memory he has that I don't."
Harper looks up into his intense icy blue eyes, caught off guard by his intensity. She had never been in this situation before. Knowing that he had misunderstood the situation made her feel guilty, but at the same time seeing how jealous he was, made her feel excited and aroused. "Oh, uh…" Harper stuttered, before she could say anything else there was a knock on the front door. "Darling, I don't have all day. Get your sweet ass out here!" a high-pitched male voice called out from the front door. Oliver's entire body went rigid at the sound of Glen's voice carrying through the apartment. The casual familiarity in the other man's tone– calling her "Darling" and demanding her presence– sent a fresh wave of possessive fury through him. "Darling?" he repeated with a dangerous edge to his voice, straightening up from the bed. "He calls you darling?" Without waiting for her to respond, Oliver stormed toward the bedroom door with a purposeful stride, he was only wearing boxers, but he clearly did not care about his own state of undress anymore. "Stay here. I am going to introduce myself to your 'friend'," he commanded sharply over his shoulder. The way he said the word 'friend' made it clear he was anything but friendly toward Glen right now. Oliver's jaw was clenched tightly as he yanked open the bedroom door and headed down the hallway toward the front entrance.
Harper jumped off the bed to the wardrobe, grabbed a pair of sweatpants and rushed after Oliver. "Just a second Glen!" she called out and then she stopped Oliver short of the front door. "Please put this one first?" she pleaded holding out the sweatpants. Oliver pauses mid-stride, his hand already reaching for the doorknob. The sight of her rushing after him in his oversized shirt, looking disheveled and gorgeous, momentarily derailed his mission. He glanced down at his own boxers hanging low on his hips, then back up at Harper's pleading expression. "Fine," he muttered, grabbing the sweatpants from her hands. "But only because you look like you are about to have a heart attack." He quickly stepped into the sweatpants, pulling them up while keeping one eye on the front door where Glen's voice continued to call out impatiently. The fabric was soft against his skin. "Happy now?" he asked gruffly, and his hands moved to her waist automatically, pulling her against his chest. "You are lucky I don't just tell him to leave you stuff on the porch."
Harper sighed in relief when Oliver put on the sweatpants. When Oliver opens the front door, a tall man with tanned skin stood in the doorway, holding a blue sports bag. His hair was styled in tight braids pulled back neatly from his face. He is wearing a sheer black lace top with intricate floral patterns, half-covered by a long, open-front outer layer that resembles a lightweight coat, which is mostly black but features patterned sleeves with lighter tones and graphic designs. He is wearing tight, black leather pants with a sleek, slightly glossy finish. As soon as Glen sees Oliver, his gaze roams over Oliver's shirtless form, appreciatively.