Livvy

by Lori L. Otto

  “I wasn’t sure, since he stole you away on your birthday.”

  “He does like to be alone with me sometimes, too,” I tell her with a blush. “But that night, we just talked. We hadn’t talked in months, and–”

  “I know, Liv. I’m just messing with you.” She pulls her hair back in a loose ponytail and takes out her lipstick to freshen up.

  “I promise we won’t sneak off unless you want us to. Oh, but we should all hang out on the rooftop tonight. I bet Matty can get us some champagne or something. Dad just had these heaters installed. We can bring up some blankets–”

  “Okay, one step at a time, Livvy,” she says. “I’m nervous just to see him. Now you’ve got dinner and a romantic rooftop evening planned. He may see me and realize he’s made a mistake.”

  “If you’ve held his interest this long over the phone, Katrina, he’s not just going to ignore you now. And if he does, it’s probably because you make him nervous or something.”

  “Why would I?”

  “Because you’re super smart, and he’s... well, he’s Finn.”

  “He’s smart,” she argues.

  “Street smart,” I tell her. “And he figures things out. But he’s not book smart. School never really held his interest. Just girls and sports.”

  “Camille,” she says.

  “Well, yeah. Camille.”

  “Is she coming around?”

  “I haven’t spoken to her in weeks. She’s probably too wrapped up in her new boyfriend to bother with us. And believe me, you shouldn’t be intimidated by her. Finn’s very much over her.”

  “That’s what he says.”

  “He is.”

  “Where does he live?”

  “His dad lives a few blocks south... 82nd and Park, I think.”

  “Miss Holland, is this your building?” our driver asks. I’d stopped paying attention to where the cab was headed, enjoying catching up with my roommate.

  “Yes, I’m sorry,” I laugh, handing him the cab fare and getting out of the car. “Thank you. Happy Thanksgiving!” I add just before shutting the door.

  “People just know you like that?” Katrina asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “Does that get annoying?”

  “Sometimes,” I admit. “Most of the time, everything’s fine. It’s when they start talking to me about personal things or taking pictures of me that it gets to me.”

  “Good afternoon, Miss Holland,” Francisco says. I notice the owner of the building working on something behind the counter.

  “Hello, Mr. Thomas,” I say formally with a smile. “You might remember my roommate Miss Foster?”

  “Of course. Welcome back.”

  “Thank you,” Katrina says with a bashful sigh as he shakes her hand.

  “Mr. Scott just left for a bit. He said he’d be back within the hour. He took your car.”

  “Cool. Thanks, Francisco.”

  “You’re welcome, Livvy,” he says softly, walking us to the elevator. I insert my key, checking my phone messages as Katrina fixes her hair in the mirror. I hear music in the hallway when the door opens to our floor. When the chorus begins, Matty starts to sing loudly. My roommate and I peek into the open door to his apartment, catching him sweeping the kitchen floor as his favorite band blares from his entertainment center.

  “Keep it down!” I yell, startling him. He drops the broom to the ground.

  “I thought you’d be with Jacks and Emi today,” he says after turning the sound down.

  “Nope. Katrina’s staying with us tonight and tomorrow.”

  “Us? Is he living with you now?”

  “When he can,” I tell him. “Dad doesn’t need to know that,” I add as an aside.

  My uncle rolls his eyes at me. “You don’t think your parents are on to you?”

  “Maybe they are, but we don’t talk about it. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize my time with him, Matty. We were apart for too long. We just want to be together now.”

  He smiles at me sweetly and nods his head. “If I’m being too loud–”

  “Never,” I assure him. “Just continue on. You missed a spot,” I tell him, pointing to a small piece of paper on the floor. When we leave the apartment, we leave his door open.

  “Livvy, how is it that things aren’t weird between Jon and Finn?”

  “What, about last spring?” I ask her. She nods. “Because it meant nothing to me or Finn, and because Jon’s a better person than most. Finn’s a hard guy to hate. You know how easy going he is. And he really does respect Jon. He knows that I love him more than anyone.

  “Plus, Jon knows that Finn’s a part of my family. He kind of has to accept him if he wants to be a part of this crazy clan.”

  “Are you sure it’s okay if we invite him over?”

  “I’m sure!” Excited, I text him immediately and ask what he’s up to. As I wait for a response, I show Katrina to her room and give her a few minutes to settle in. Twenty minutes later, Francisco lets me know that Finn is downstairs.

  “I’m going to go bring him up,” I tell Katrina, grabbing my keys. Back in the lobby, Finn’s telling my concierge about college.

  “Hey, Liv!” he says mid-conversation, walking toward me to give me a hug. “Good to see you. Your hair’s already growing out... and no more blue?”

  “No, I thought I’d be normal for a bit. What’d you do to your hand?” I pick up his arm carefully, noticing a bandage.

  “I got distracted in practice and fell. It’s just a sprain.” We get back in the elevator and continue talking.

  “You’re faking it for the painkillers, aren’t you?” I ask him sarcastically. He laughs, but shakes his head.

  “All natural,” he says to me. “I’m trying to change my ways,” he says. “No more pot. No more stolen Vicodin.”

  “Wow, look at you. Alcohol?”

  “A man needs at least one vice,” he tells me.

  “What brought this on?” I ask him as we get out on my floor.

  “The girl in your loft,” he says. “She doesn’t like it... and I really like her.” We pause before I open the door. I look him over and push some of his hair off his forehead.

  “She really likes you, too. But she’s really nervous.”

  “Well, so am I,” he says, reaching past me to open the door. “But it’s a good kind of nervous.” Katrina stands up from the couch but lingers in the living room. She’s not typically so shy and subdued, but I can tell from her bright eyes and the flush of her cheeks that she really is happy to see Finn. He approaches her, giving her a tentative hug before sitting next to her on the couch.

  I decide to give them some time to catch up, and retreat to the studio to paint.

  “What the hell!?” A half hour later, Jon’s unexpected voice startles me, causing me to jerk the brush carelessly across the canvas. I sigh, frustrated, but put down the brush to see what’s going on.

  “What’s wrong?” I call out to him on my way to the living room.

  “Hell, man, I, uh,” he says, staring at Finn with an apologetic expression. Finn stands in front of Katrina defensively. They’re both staring, shocked at his outburst.

  “What happened?” I ask, trying to assess the situation.

  Finn laughs to himself, and I notice lipstick on the corner of his mouth. “Did you think she was Livvy?” he asks Jon.

  Everyone looks at me. I turn around to walk back to the studio.

  “It was an honest mistake,” Jon says quietly, fast on my heels. I continue to ignore him, finding a scraper and removing some of the excess paint I’d smeared across the top corner. “Talk to me.”

  “I was worried this would happen. You don’t trust me?” I whisper, trying not to let my friends hear our conversation.

  “I trust you Olivia, I just thought I’d walked in on something...” I glare at him over the canvas, eventually shifting my eyes back down to my palette to mix some paint to correct the marred corner. “Olivia?”

  My ey
es start to water, so I try to keep my face hidden from him as best as I can. “I have to fix this painting, Jon. Can you give me a few minutes to do that?”

  “I want to talk to you. Don’t be mad.”

  “Don’t tell me how to be,” I retort, my jaw taut. “I felt bad about that stupid day all summer. I’m not going to spend the rest of my life apologizing for that mistake, Jon. That’s all it was. A mistake. It never should have happened, and it will not happen again!” I hadn’t realized I was yelling until I finish my rant and hear the front door close. Jon checks the living room and returns to me.

  “They probably went to Matty’s. His door was open.”

  “How could you think I would do that to you, Jon?”

  “I couldn’t see her, Liv, I’m sorry. Try to see it from my side. He’s got his arms around someone who has her arms around him. They’re clearly kissing. It’s your apartment–”

  “You knew she’d be here! You knew I went to get her! You know they like each other!”

  “I didn’t know they’d be making out on your couch!” he says loudly, defensively. “Shit, Livvy, cut me some slack.” He walks back into the kitchen, picking up some bags he’d set down on the hardwood floor at the studio entrance.

  I once again focus on the painting, testing the paint mixture until it’s the perfect blend of white and blue. I paint over the errant stroke meticulously, continuing to work even after I hear Finn and Katrina come back into the apartment. I can’t hear what the guys are saying. Katrina finds me in the studio, walking along the wall of windows to get here.

  “Hey, you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I tell her.

  “I’m really sorry–”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, Kat,” I assure her. I put down my brush and wipe my hand on the smock, turning around to face her. “He has to trust me.”

  “He made a false assumption,” she tries to stick up for him. “It was a gut reaction, I’m sure, Liv. He feels like an idiot.”

  “He should,” I mumble stubbornly.

  “That’s pretty,” Katrina says, filling the growing silence and motioning toward the canvas. “How do you do that?”

  “Paint?”

  “Come up with ideas for what to paint. My brain doesn’t work like that.”

  I shrug. “Sometimes I don’t think my brain has much to do with it. It sort of just comes out of me. I can’t explain it. I used to think of it as a physical embodiment of my feelings. Not that that makes any more sense.” I sigh, picking up my brush and getting back to work. I know I should stop, since my emotions are completely altered from what they were ten minutes ago. That always leads to confusing works of art. Most people don’t recognize the discord, but I do, and I hate it.

  “Sorry we were making out on the couch,” Katrina says softly.

  I glare at her playfully over my shoulder. “Yes, you have a guest room for that,” I remind her. “Katrina, it’s fine. I’m sorry I got upset. This has nothing to do with you two. Just promise me that there will be no danger of me seeing Finn naked in my loft, and we’re good.”

  “Because I have a guest room for that?” she asks me brazenly.

  “Really? Nervous to naked in thirty minutes? You move fast, girl!”

  “I’m kidding,” she says. “No nudity. Not this trip.”

  “Whatever,” I tell her, not wanting to think about it anymore, and not wanting to make a big deal out of it one way or the other.

  “Olivia, can I talk to you?” Jon stands at the other entrance, just beyond the concrete flooring.

  “We can go somewhere,” Katrina offers.

  “You’re fine,” Jon tells her, walking toward the guest bedrooms. “We’ll go over here.”

  I set down the brush for good this time and untie the smock, slipping it off my shoulders carefully. “I need to wash my hands,” I tell him as I follow him. I go into the guest bathroom. He steps inside, too, closing the door behind him. With my hands lathered, I scrape the paint from my skin. He sits on the edge of the bathtub, and we look at each other through the mirror.

  “I’m not expecting you to apologize anymore for what happened, Olivia. I don’t want you to live with that burden. I don’t want you to think I need that, ever. It was a concussion, and you’ve atoned for your actions a million times over, in my opinion. But I made an honest mistake today, and I jumped to a very wrong conclusion. I’m sorry about the implication, baby. I do trust you. And, hell, I even trust Finn, for some reason. He’s a good guy. My heart just stopped and my brain ceased to function for that split second.

  “In that second, I thought I’d lost you again, and if there’s anything I know for sure, Liv, it’s that I can’t. I can’t lose you again.”

  “This is it,” I remind him, turning around and drying my hands with a nearby towel.

  He grins, repeating what I’d said. “This is it. Good or bad, this is it.” He stands up and takes a step toward me, but I stop his progress.

  “Not bad,” I tell him. “Just good. We’ll always make it good. Right?”

  “Of course. We will make this what we want it to be. You and I are in total control. Not your parents, or my mom. Not Finn. Not some stranger we may meet in the future. If you want to be with me, I’ll always be here for you.”

  “I’ll always want to be with you.” I close the gap between us.

  “I’ll always want to be with you,” he confirms as he puts his arms around my shoulders. I hold him tight against me, happy that he said everything he needed to say to make this okay.

  “Where did you go?” I ask, my ear pressed against his chest.

  “The market. I went to buy fruit,” he says. I pull back and look up at him. “Because we said we’d bring fruit tomorrow.”

  “I love you,” I tell him softly, putting my hands on his face. I drag my thumb over his lips, and he kisses it gently.

  “Love you, too.” We hug once more, then he takes my hand and opens the door, leading me back into the loft. “Where’s your ring, baby?” he asks, touching my finger.

  “At school,” I tell him.

  He stops before we reach the main living room. “Why don’t you wear it anymore?”

  “I didn’t want to assume anything,” I explain. “You made new promises last time.”

  He frowns a little. “That makes me sad, knowing we’ve fluctuated so much that this is the third time I’ve asked you to wear it. It lessens the meaning.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” I assure him. “Not really.”

  “I’m not that capricious, Liv. The reason I’m still here is because I can’t not love you.”

  “I know, Jon. You don’t have to explain anything to me, okay? You didn’t take it off my finger, you know? I did that. I made that choice.”

  “Because of me.”

  “Because of me,” I correct him. “I can’t wait to put it back on, though. I’ve stared at it almost every night since you gave it to me, whether I’ve been wearing it or not.”

  “Please put it on when you get back to school... and don’t ever take it off again.”

  “I don’t plan to.”

  “But you never planned to,” he says.

  “I won’t. Better?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you want that thing off my finger, you have to take it off. Deal?”

  “Deal,” he laughs. He hugs me again, and this time kisses me before we finally get back to the kitchen. “Sorry, guys,” he says to Katrina and Finn, who are sitting on two different chairs in the living room, watching television. Finn’s back is to us, and doesn’t acknowledge us. “Sorry for the weirdness.”

  “It’s okay,” Katrina says assuredly.

  “Dumb ass,” Finn mumbles just loud enough for us to hear. I watch Jon as he stares hard at the back of his head, looking confused. My friend finally looks over his shoulder and grins. Jon picks up an orange and tosses it at him. Finn struggles to catch it with one hand before it hits him in the head, but he only has time to move out of the
way, letting the fruit hit the coffee table. “Thanks, I wanted one of those.”

  “Should we make reservations for dinner tonight?” I ask Jon.

  “Yeah,” Finn answers for him. “Odeon?” he asks.

  “Mmmm, warm donuts.” My mouth starts to water just thinking about one of my favorite desserts.

  “For dinner?” Jon asks.

  “Dessert. The food’s good. It’s casual. Oh, Katrina, their macaroni and cheese is to die for.”

  “I’m in,” she says. Finn fishes in his pocket for his phone and comes into the kitchen with me and Jon. With the phone on his ear, he starts to peel the orange. I look through the fridge to see what kind of fruit Jon bought.

  “Pomegranate?” I ask him as if he’s crazy. “Classy Thanksgiving side. Here, let me take a bite of fruit salad and spit the seed back out. Yum!”

  “Hey,” he warns me playfully. “That’s for me. You don’t have to eat it... and I’m surely not sharing it with your family.”

  “We don’t want it anyway,” I say smugly, sticking out my tongue.

  “Yeah,” Finn says with his mouth full of an orange slice. He chews hurriedly so he can talk. I turn away, not wanting to watch his bad-mannered way of eating. When we were kids, it was funny. He only does it now to screw with me. “I need reservations for four. Tonight. Eight o’clock. Eleven? Are you kidding?”

  I turn around and shake my head at him. “We’ll go somewhere else,” I tell him.

  “This is for Livvy Holland,” he says to the restaurant. He turns away from my annoyed glare. “She’s home for Thanksgiving, and this was the one place she said she wanted to eat.”

  “Finn!” I whisper loudly, picking up another orange and tossing it up, debating whether or not I’ll throw this one at his head, too. Jon catches it mid-throw, setting it back in the bowl on the island.

  “Yes, eight. For four. And she doesn’t like the booth in the back corner,” he states. “Thank you. Yes, we will see you tonight.” He sets his phone down confidently. “You’re welcome,” he says.

  “Yes, thank you for using me.”

  “It worked! Now you can get your dumb donuts.”

  I smile, remembering the fruit-filled delicacy. “Warm donuts,” I sigh.