by Lori L. Otto
“I’ve got your night planned, Aunt Kelly,” I announce, setting everything on the casual dining room table. She smiles at my stash of playthings. I hold the teddy bear up to Nikki, and she immediately runs over to it, grabbing it from me and hugging it close to her.
“Are you sure you want to give her that?”
“Well, you have to get it back from her while she’s sleeping,” I tell my aunt quietly. She nods in understanding. “I need to go get ready.”
“What are you doing tonight?” she asks.
“Going to see a movie.”
“Which one?”
“It’s his choice,” I tell her.
“You should see that new one, with the guy from Learn to Teach,” she suggests. I know there’s no way we’re seeing that one since it was just released today. We only see movies in nearly deserted theaters. Maybe that would change someday when we had time to ourselves elsewhere. Maybe next year, when we have the loft to go home to.
“We’ll see,” I say with a smile. Picking up a cloth, I wipe some cookie dough from my brothers cheek, kissing it after that. “What are you going to do tonight, Trey?” I ask him.
“Going to see a movie,” he says, copying my answer.
“Which one?”
“Cars!” he says. I cringe as I look at my aunt, understanding her unspoken desire for him to watch any other movie. We are all sick of that movie.
“I think that movie’s broken,” I lie.
“Nooo!!” he squeals.
“She’s just kidding, Trey,” my aunt says quickly, glaring at me. “Your dad already told me it was queued up and ready to go. Nikki loves Cars, too.”
“I tried,” I smile on my way downstairs.
“I brought a book,” she calls after me.
I shower and dress quickly, wanting to be ready when Jon calls. My phone and purse in hand, I go back upstairs and sit down at the kitchen table, looking through the dress-up clothes. Nikki stands next to me, watching my every move. I start putting bracelets and beads and tiaras on her, making her laugh.
“What time are my parents coming home?”
“Sometime in the morning.” Kelly looks to see my expression, which is moderate surprise. “It’s been awhile since they had a night to themselves, hasn’t it?”
“I guess so, yeah.”
My phone vibrates on the table. “Hey,” I say to Jon, smiling.
“Are you ready?”
“I am. You?”
“Definitely. I’ll be waiting out in front of my dorm.”
“Cool. I’ll see you in ten minutes or so.”
“Be careful.” I shove my phone in my purse and put one more strand of fake pearls over Nikki’s head.
“I’ll see you later, if you’re still up, I guess,” I tell my aunt, passing by her on my way to the foyer.
“You still have a curfew?” she asks, following me to the door but keeping an ever-constant eye on the kids in the other room.
“Of course. Midnight.”
“Midnight? When my girls were seniors, we let them stay out until one on the weekends.” I raise my eyebrows at her. “One o’clock, but this stays between us,” she whispers. “And not a second later.”
“Deal!” I exclaim, giving her a hug.
“I’ll be waiting up.”
“Okay. Don’t worry about me, though. And I have my phone, it just won’t be on during the movie, of course.”
“Of course.”
I hear her lock the door behind me as I skip to my car, excited to see Jon and even more excited to give him the news.
CHAPTER 18
He’s already walking toward my car when I pull up, his hands hiding something behind his back. He comes around to the driver side, and I put the car in park to let him behind the wheel. When I get out, he hands me a bouquet of camellias, tied together with a ribbon. It looks like a bridesmaid bouquet, and smells sweet and fresh.
“Thank you,” I say, a bit taken aback. His hair is still wet from his shower, and I run my fingers through it, messing it up. His hands reach to my lower back and pull me into him so he can kiss me fully.
“You look nice,” he says. “You smell amazing.”
“New shampoo,” I say, shrugging. “I have a surprise for you, too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. My aunt is watching Trey at my house–my parents are gone for the night. Kelly said I could stay out until one,” I say, waggling my eyebrows at him.
“That goes really well with my surprise,” he responds.
“The flowers?”
“Not the flowers. Go get in the car, will ya?”
“Yes, sir!”
As I settle into the cold leather of the passenger seat, trying to arrange my skirt so that my legs don’t have to come in direct contact with the fabric, Jon starts driving away from campus.
“Hear me out,” he starts. We look at one another, and I nod my head and put my hand on his as it rests on the center console. “I found this place in West Harrison–”
“Where’s that?”
“Upstate, about 40 miles from here. Far enough away from the city.”
“Far enough for what?”
“Far enough that we’ll have privacy. I want to be alone with you tonight, Olivia.”
“It’s a hotel?”
“Yeah. A nice one, I checked. And it has a parking garage with private elevators to rooms, so we never have to be in any public areas.”
“You can afford it?”
“Mom gave me the last month’s rent to ‘settle her affairs.’ Since you’re letting me use your gallery space for storage, I’ve got cash for other affairs,” he says with a laugh. “We could stay for a few nights, if we wanted.”
“Well, we can’t even stay for one,” I remind him. “We’d have to leave there by, what, midnight?”
He glances at the clock in the dash. “That gives us four and a half hours to be together,” he says. “I don’t even think it will feel rushed.”
I smile nervously at him.
“You have about thirty-five minutes to back out–”
“Drive faster!” I instruct him, confused that he thinks I’d want to back out. “This is brilliant!”
“I don’t know that I’d go that far. It’s desperation. I’d pretty much do anything.”
“Well, this is perfect. It seems like you’ve thought of everything. Thank you.”
“I’m glad you’re excited. I was worried you’d be upset with me for making such an assumption.”
“Did anything that happened this afternoon leave any doubt in your mind about how much I want you?”
“You did take Camille’s call–”
“After the third time she called!” I remind him. “And you told me to get it!” He laughs and picks up my hand, kissing the back of it.
“Can we continue our conversation from earlier?”
“Which one?”
“The one about next year,” he says.
“Of course. I can’t wait for next year! Can you imagine our lives?” I shake my head, grinning.
He glances over at me quickly. “Liv, are you sure about Columbia?” He’s quiet when he asks this.
“Yes! I have no doubts,” I assure him, squeezing his hand. “It’s all I want.”
“Why?” he asks.
“What do you mean, why?” I laugh. “It’s a good school, right? You’ve said so yourself a million times, and–”
“Baby, it’s a good school for me. They have a program that suits my interests.”
“Columbia has an art program.” I look at him closely, unsure of his response.
“It’s not renowned for its fine arts program, Olivia. And it’s very competitive.”
“I couldn’t compete?” I can’t help but feel offended.
“I don’t know, Liv. Right now, you can’t paint. I’m not sure what you’ll be like in six months. And to make a living at it, either in school or after, you have to be able to maintain a certain level of productivity.”
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“Please shut up.”
“What?”
“I don’t want to talk about that. You know I’m struggling. You know I’m trying. Please don’t talk about that.”
“We need to. It’s your future–”
“I thought you would be happy about me going to school with you, but it sounds like you’re not. Earlier, you were fine with it. You were happy we’d get to be together–alone–a lot.”
“Choose Parsons then, Liv. If you just want to stay in the city, then choose Parsons. You’d be surrounded by creative people, just like you, and–”
“I don’t want to be surrounded by people like me. I want to be with you. The point of staying in New York is to stay with you.”
“My fear is that you staying in New York will have you surrounded not only by people like you, and people like me, but people like the paparazzi, too. And people like Abram.”
“Abram’s fired, and won’t be coming near me. And if I go to Columbia, well... it’s not like people are going to be on campus, following my every move. I mean, in that sense, I think Columbia would be better than Parsons.”
“If you lived on campus, maybe–”
“So then I’ll live on campus. It’s what the school requires, I just know they make exceptions, and since I have the loft–”
“Liv, why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?” I ask, glaring at him as his focus stays on the road in front of us.
“Sacrificing what you want for me.” He speaks softly, and I barely hear him over the road noise. “Don’t do that.”
“Jon,” I plead, rubbing the back of his hand with my thumb. “I want you, first and foremost. You’re the most important thing to me. And, I mean, once I start painting again, I just need to stick with it. I’m just going to college for my parents... for the diploma. I don’t need any of that to paint, and you know it.”
“Then your reasoning has a fundamental flaw. Living in your tiny box, leading your sheltered life, it won’t make you grow and develop as an artist. You have to live, and experience things, Olivia. An education will change how you see everything around you. Picking the right school means you get to focus your efforts on things that are already close to your heart... things that interest you. Being around other people who share your interests will expand your mind and bring about inspiring conversation and challenging opposition that will make you question yourself, and know yourself better. That’s what’s key to being an artist.”
I sit silently, releasing his hand and looking out the side window.
“I’m not telling you anything you don’t know, Liv,” he adds quietly. “Donna taught us that.”
“Granna said my talent was deeply ingrained in me. Granna said nothing could ever take that away.” I swallow, recognizing the irony in that. We’re both silent, letting that settle in.
“You’ve led such a sheltered life,” Jon says, choosing not to pick it apart.
“I have not,” I argue. “I’ve been to half the states in America and twenty foreign countries. We traveled a lot when I was younger. I’ve seen a lot more of the world than you have.”
“Seeing things with an undeveloped mind and collecting stamps in your passport doesn’t mean you’ve experienced anything in the world. What social injustices were these countries facing? Or was this a first-world global tour? I bet the view from the Ritz Carlton doesn’t show any amount of strife, huh?”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. What he’s saying is hurtful, and meant to be that way. “What is with you? Everything was great this afternoon. It was perfect. Is there some reason you don’t want me to go to Columbia?”
“I don’t want you to sacrifice who you are.”
“I’m not.”
“Who are you?” he asks, animated.
“I’m Livvy Holland. The girl you’ve been dating for a year and a half. The same girl you sat next to for years at Nate’s Art Room.”
“But you’re not the same girl.” He bites his lip after he says it. I wait for an explanation, but it doesn’t come.
We’re both quiet as we arrive in West Harrison. Jon parks my car in the drive and leaves it running as he gets out to check in. I send Camille a text message, checking in with her. I also mention that Jon and I are fighting.
“Wouldn’t it be cool if we could be single together?” is her response. I stuff my phone in my purse. That wouldn’t be cool at all. I don’t want to be single. I don’t want to be without Jon.
Am I different? Have I changed? Hasn’t he changed me?
Does he not like who I’ve become? I fight back the tears, feeling suddenly inadequate and unsure what to do about it. Is he right about me?
“Ready?” Jon asks when he gets back in the car. I’m sure he can feel the tension in the air as much as I can.
“Sure.” He drives around the back to the parking garage and continues to the fourth level. He parks close to the doors leading into the building. I grab my purse and the flowers on my way out. He takes my hand, but neither of us says a word as we navigate the hallway, both of us walking with our heads angled to the floor. I realize I’m grinding my teeth when we get to the room.
“Olivia, please don’t be mad at me. Not tonight.”
I cross the room and sit on the bed, throwing my purse into a nearby chair and studying the flowers intently, touching the petals. I have a nearly compulsive desire to start plucking them off in frustration.
He sits next to me and kisses my neck, but I shrug away from him. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Wasn’t this the point of coming up here?”
“We just had a huge fight in the car, Jon. Was I supposed to flip the switch back to compliant girlfriend? Because it’s not working right now.”
“I just thought–”
“What, that I’d just let it go?!”
“Well, you came into the hotel with me. You’re here in the room. You didn’t ask to go home, so–”
“I don’t want to go home,” I state.
“Maybe you just want to get laid as badly as I do,” he suggests. “Did we need to talk about things first? Did you want an apology? Well, I’m sorry.”
I can feel my nostrils flaring as I try to breathe a few calming breaths. My fingers start pulling the petals off of the pretty flowers. I watch as each small petal lands gently on the floor.
“That is not why I’m here. You can take me home, Jon.” I start to walk past him, but he stops me by grabbing one of my wrists. His initial grip is tight, but he loosens it immediately, aware of his strength.
“Don’t, Livvy. Don’t do this.”
I look up at him in disgust, plucking faster. “You’re doing this,” I challenge him. He looks me in the eyes and lets go of me. I move to sit on the edge of the bed again. I don’t want to go home, even if our plans have changed; even if they’re ruined. I don’t want to leave this conversation unfinished. I continue destroying the flowers, one by one, as I wait for his next move.
“I love you,” he says, taking a few steps toward me.
He loves me? A few minutes ago, he insinuated I’d changed, that I’d become someone different. Maybe I misunderstood him. “Do you know me?”
“Yes,” he says confidently, his eyes burning into me intensely.
“But I’ve changed. You said so in the car. What did you mean by that?”
“We’ve both changed.” He speaks with little emotion. “I still love you.”
“Fine, then,” I snap back at him.
“If you know that, then stop picking those god damn petals off of the flowers!”
“I can do what I want with them!” I exclaim, standing up and pulling my arm back to throw the bouquet at him. He comes to me quickly, now taking both of my wrists in his hands.
“Stop acting like a child,” he says, his glare boring into mine. I feel my heart pounding angrily in my chest. I’m not sure what changes in the next few seconds, but suddenly my lips are hard and fast on his, and he’s kissing m
e back just as desperately. His left hand slides up to my right one, taking the flowers from me. I don’t know what he does with them, I only know I’m not holding them anymore. I’m not sure of my surroundings at all anymore. I’m only aware of him. Of me, and of him.
The frantic embrace continues as Jon undresses me, only parting once to pull my sweater over my head. It feels rougher. He feels stronger than he used to. Too strong. I remember him hitting Abram, and the vision startles me. I start to feel very weak and very exposed, suddenly very self-conscious, standing naked in front of him while he’s fully dressed. I feel myself starting to grow lightheaded, and I wonder if I’m hyperventilating. I realize I’m scared. For the first time with Jon, I don’t feel safe. I feel scared.
He starts to unfasten the buttons on his shirt, but I stop him by putting my hand over his firmly. He pulls away and looks first in my eyes, then down the length of my body, frozen in front of him. I still can’t find my breath as his hands explore the contours.
“Don’t hurt me,” I plead to him with what little air I have. His hands stop on my hips as he looks back into my eyes abruptly.
“What?”
“Please don’t hurt me,” I repeat, finally managing to take one deep breath. He looks confused, shaking his head.
“No, Livvy,” he says, obviously straining to breathe, too. “Oh, god, no,” he repeats, putting his arms around me gently and holding me next to him. His hands move up and down my back reassuringly. “God, no, Livvy, I would never,” he says, and I hear genuine remorse in his voice. He kisses my temple, holding his lips there for a few seconds as I note the shaky intake of air. “I would never.”
He puts his hands on my upper arms and pulls back, a worried expression on his face. “You know that, right? I could never hurt you, baby.”
With the return of his tender gaze, my muscles relax fully. I slip away from him, sitting down on the bed. He kneels in front of me with his hands on my waist, steadying me. “Please tell me you know that.”
I nod at him and try to smile. It’s not enough of an assurance for him, and he dips his head to the floor, leaning his forehead on my bare knees. He slides his hands down and caresses my calf muscles with barely any pressure.
