Olivia

by Lori L. Otto

  I focus my attention to the path back to the main house. I sigh in relief, but feel a little anger and hurt inside. We’re quiet the whole way home, even though the journey is much longer as he controls the horse, making her walk at a very slow pace.

  I hate when people mess with my emotions. No, I don’t like Finn like that. But I don’t like him mocking me, either.

  “Just take me to my cabin,” I tell him coldly as we approach the cluster of houses.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “I don’t know,” I tell him, my teeth gritted. “You’re a jerk.” He stops Tally Ho near the porch, and starts to get off. “I can do this myself.” He’s still, watching me and holding onto me until both of my feet are on solid ground.

  “You want me to want you, don’t you?” His voice is lower than normal, both in volume and tone. His eyes glint, catching the light from a lantern on the railing. I don’t. But I don’t want him not to, either. I don’t want to be undesirable... to any guy.

  I run my hand along Tally Ho’s long nose, finally leaning in and kissing her soft fur. Finn and I stare at one another the whole time.

  “Goodnight, Livvy. Sweet dreams.” I glare at him as I open the door, waiting until the last second before he turns around to flip him off.

  “Hey, guys,” I say to my parents when I come inside. Trey’s not in the room with them, which means he’s either in bed or is staying with someone else tonight.

  “Beautiful night for a ride,” my mom says. I settle on the couch next to her, watching her draw shapes on her computer.

  “Yeah.” My response is monotone.

  “Did you go over the brook?” Dad asks.

  “Yeah.” There’s no sense in lying. Plus, Finn’s the one who would get in the most trouble, not me. “He brought beer, too.”

  Dad puts down the book he’d been reading and waits for me to say more. “Did you drink with him?”

  “I had a sip, but it’s beer,” I tell him. “I don’t like the taste.” I pull my knees into my chest, bracing myself for his disappointment.

  “Thank you,” he says.

  “You’re not mad?”

  “At you? No,” he answers. “Finn’s got another think coming, though.”

  I can’t hide my self-satisfied smile. “Poor, stupid Finn.” I think about telling my dad about the weed, but I know that’s crossing a serious line with him. As much as I know he needs to know, I don’t want to get Finn or my cousins in that much trouble. I decide to let them fend for themselves. “I’m gonna go call Jon, and probably go to bed, if that’s okay?” I half tell, half ask.

  “That’s fine,” Mom answers.

  “Dad, where’s the Vicodin?”

  “Your bedside table,” he says. “Don’t overdo it.”

  I roll my eyes before I kiss him on the cheek. He hugs me and smiles.

  Upstairs, it takes Jon four rings to answer his phone, but when he does, a laugh still lingers in his throat. “Hey, baby,” he says.

  “Hi,” I say meekly after swallowing my pills.

  “How are you? How’s the hand?”

  “It’s achy... but fine. I’m sufficiently medicated.”

  “You’re funny when you’re loopy.” I hear his brothers loudly in the background, their voices cheerful and lively.

  “How’s your family?”

  “Great,” he says. “Night and day difference, Liv,” he says in a hushed voice. “Will and Max have made so many friends, and my mom,” he pauses. “Mom is sober. I’m not sure I’ve ever known her sober. She’s a different woman.” With every breath, I hear relief.

  “I’m so happy to hear that. It’s about time.”

  “Yeah,” he says. “How’s yours?”

  “Big,” I say. “I forget how much I like my privacy.”

  “Are you alone now?”

  “I am. My room and studio here are better than the ones in Manhattan,” I admit. In past years, my cousins have camped out on the floor here with me, but I didn’t invite them this year. “Fortunately, we have our own compound here in Wyoming,” I say with a laugh. “And there are plans to add more houses when more families come along. They’re working on one for Lexi and Kyle right now.”

  “Your life just astounds me sometimes,” he chuckles.

  “I wish you were here,” I tell him.

  “I wish you were here,” he returns, “to see this.”

  “Maybe after graduation,” I suggest.

  “Maybe. Tell me what you did with your day. The picture of you was beautiful. Did your mom take it?”

  “No, Finn and I went for a horseback ride,” I say casually, even though I suspect the conversation that will follow won’t be nearly as casual.

  “I wish I was there,” he laughs. “You’d have to teach me how, though.”

  “I’m not very good.”

  “Yeah, how do you do that with one hand? Surely your dad–”

  “Of course my dad wouldn’t let me do anything so dangerous,” I say, exaggerating the word dangerous. “I rode double with him.”

  “Really?” he says. “Who’s in front when you ride double?”

  “The more experienced rider.”

  “So him?”

  “Yeah.” He’s silent. “You okay?”

  “Better. A little better, knowing that.”

  “Well then you’re not going to like what I tell you next.”

  “What?”

  “He tried to kiss me.”

  “That son of a–”

  “Jon, calm down. It’s Finn.”

  “Remember when I told you that you don’t pay attention to your surroundings? That boy looks at you in suggestive ways when you’re not looking, Olivia.” It sounds as if he’s scolding me.

  “No, he doesn’t. He was just messing with me.” He’d said that. I’m not sure I believe him, but he said that.

  “What’d you do?” he asks, getting back to the main subject.

  “I pushed him away and laughed at him.”

  “Idiot,” Jon mutters. “I’ve never trusted him, not for one second.”

  “He’s harmless. And plus, even if he was interested, he has nothing on you. Nothing at all.”

  “He’s–like–he’s your family!” he exclaims. “I realize he’s not, but it just seems a bit twisted to me.”

  “I told him he was dysfunctional,” I tell him. “It’s twisted to me, too.”

  “But you said he was messing with you?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  “After you shot him down?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s just trying to protect his pride. Good for you, Liv. You wounded him,” he laughs. “Next time, punch him in the gut, though.”

  “I’m not going to punch him. I’ve got to figure out how to deal with him for the next week now. Fortunately, we weren’t really speaking until yesterday. We can probably go back to that and not raise suspicions.”

  “You should do that. Promise me you won’t be alone with him anymore.”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “I don’t trust him. I just told you that.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Especially don’t go on some romantic horseback ride in the sunset with him. That makes me... hell, Liv, it makes me jealous. You’re only one state away. I could drive there in six hours, if I drive like a maniac.” He laughs. “And I would,” he adds.

  I dream about Jon that night. I wake up, sweaty, my heart throbbing and blood coursing throughout my entire body. His jealousy had spilled over into my dream, into a private moment that still feels too real to be a dream.

  If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep.

  I wake up with a wide smile, settling back into my pillow, hoping to return to that other pillow, in that other bed, the one where the man I love waits for me with something to prove.

  Spring Break flies by. A part of me wishes it wasn’t Sunday, that I didn’t have to go back to school tomorrow, but when I think about seeing Jon t
his afternoon, I’m perfectly fine with it.

  After breakfast, my cousins and I go outside together one last time. Clara sets up some outdoor speakers and turns her music up loud while Andrew and Finn work to start a fire for s’mores.

  I’d avoided Finn as much as possible over the week. It was easy at first. I knew from his glares that my father had talked to him about the alcohol, and maybe even about crossing the brook on our horseback ride. As the days passed, we both eased back into our normal comfort level among our families, but we hadn’t been alone since.

  “Livvy?” Maddie yells from the back door of the main house. “I can’t find the marshmallows! Where’d you put them? They’re not with your stuff.”

  I remember exactly where I put them. “I left them in our cabin,” I tell her, standing up and brushing off. “I forgot. I’ll run down there... give me ten minutes.”

  I start toward the house, feeling that I’m not alone before I actually turn around and confirm it. I keep walking with him about five paces behind me.

  “What are you doing, Finn?”

  “Helping you.”

  “I don’t need your help.” I turn around and smile briefly. “Thanks, though.”

  “I insist.” He catches up to me and matches my gait.

  “Finn–”

  “I have to talk to you. I could do it in front of everyone, or we can do it here. It’s up to you.”

  “I don’t have to talk to you at all.”

  “No, you don’t. I can do all the talking.” I purse my lips and nod. “That was pretty bitchy, telling your dad about the beer, you know?” I nod again, approaching the porch to the house my family had stayed in over the past week. We’d vacated it for the larger gathering house this morning after packing everything up. The house was empty–except for the marshmallows, that is.

  I walk in the door, letting it swing back on its hinges before Finn has time to enter. “That’s nice, Liv,” he says after I hear his elbow meet the heavy wood.

  “I didn’t invite you here. I don’t want you here.”

  “So, can I assume your avoidance of me this past week is actually an avoidance of your feelings for me?” I bust out laughing, but he stares at me seriously. “You didn’t feel anything?”

  “No!” I tell him, locating the snacks in the pantry and grabbing the bag. “Nothing! I haven’t given it a second thought, in fact.”

  “I don’t believe that,” he says, taking the marshmallows from me abruptly. He crosses his arms, holding them over his heart, as if to cushion the blow.

  “I’m sorry, Finn,” I tell him casually. “What, you felt something? In that fraction of a second?”

  “I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s like...” He searches for the words. “It’s like someone gave me an ice cream cone, and just as I touched my tongue to it to tell whether it was chocolate or vanilla, they took it away from me. It was... interrupted,” he explains. His analogy makes me smile for some reason.

  “So, was it chocolate or vanilla?” I ask, leaning against the countertop.

  “It was anything but vanilla,” he says. “But as far as the flavor of chocolate, I couldn’t tell.” He watches me as he talks, dropping his arms vulnerably to his side. “Was it dark? Milky?” he says, raising his eyebrows curiously. “Was the flavor deep? Full? Sweet? Bitter? I don’t know. And for that reason, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head all fricking week.” His frustration is palpable. His eyes plead with me. “I can’t stop wondering.”

  A silent laugh escapes my chest in a huff.

  “You should let me try again,” he suggests. “Put some feeling into it this time.”

  “I promise you, in the one-one-thousandth of a second your chapped lips touched my sumptuous, perfect ones, it was all the feeling you’re ever gonna get out of me. If the kiss was twenty seconds long, you’d still feel nothing from my side.”

  “I’ve seen you kiss him. You can do a lot better,” he says with a slight grin.

  “With him,” I say, “there’s a difference. A kiss isn’t just a kiss,” I tell him. “A kiss is the embodiment of how two people feel about one another. A kiss is truth.” He rolls his eyes at me, carrying the marshmallows out the door. I follow him, shutting it quietly behind him. “So what flavor do you think it was?” I taunt him.

  “Probably, like, white chocolate,” he says, waiting for me to catch up with him. “Mild, unsatisfying... nothing that leaves a lasting impression.” He gives me a sideways glance and smiles at me.

  “I’m sure Jon would have another opinion.”

  “Whatever,” he says with a shrug. He slows down a little and bumps me with his shoulder. “I think Jon’s pretty lucky.”

  “Of course he is,” I say, bragging and swinging my hair as I walk away. “And by the way, if you ever tell Camille that we almost kissed, I’ll tell the whole school you showed me your tiny penis.”

  “Tiny?” He stops moving suddenly. “Did she tell you that?”

  “God, no, we don’t talk about that.” I shake my head, trying to get the image out. “I was just trying to be funny... and threatening... and can you change the subject please?”

  “You’re curious?” he jokes with me.

  “Never!” I squeal, grabbing the marshmallows and running the rest of the way back to the campfire. He has some audacity... but that’s one of the things I’ve always liked about him. We’re both laughing when we meet back up with the families.

  We sit next to one another on the flight back home, playing games on my computer. It feels normal again, and I’m relieved.

  As soon as we land, I unbuckle my seatbelt, ready to hop out of the seat as soon as the flight attendant gives us the go-ahead. My purse is already poised on my shoulder.

  “Dad, can you take my laptop bag?” I ask him, handing it to him across the aisle before he can answer.

  “Slow down, Contessa,” he says, slightly annoyed with me. “You’ll save, what, a minute?”

  The best part about first class seats is being the first off of the plane.

  “I can’t wait to see him,” I explain. Jon’s flight had arrived an hour before mine, but he had planned to wait at the airport for my plane to land. My parents were fine with me spending the afternoon with him. They gave me an early curfew so I would have time to unpack and get ready for school in the morning, but I don’t care.

  “You’re in a public place,” Mom reminds me, her look intending to make me feel silly, but I don’t. She smiles, watching me bounce on the balls of my feet, waiting for the doors to open. I don’t care. I wave goodbye to my parents, cousins, aunts, uncles–and Finn–and half-skip, half-run through the terminal to baggage claim where Jon is meeting me.

  The airport is swarming with other spring break revelers, so I apologize politely as I push through the crowd. I pull my sunglasses on and position my hair over my face a little in an effort to hide my identity. I see Jon before I pass through the security gate. He sees me as I exit it, before I have to shout out his name, which I was just about to do.

  He stands in place, but drops his bags, holding his arms out for me. We kiss quickly, but our smiles make it awkward. He pushes my hair back and takes off my sunglasses to see into my eyes. He looks down at me, and while my heart rate should be returning to normal, and my breathing should be slowing, neither are happening.

  He glances down at my shirt. It’s the shirt he gave me before he left. “That shirt can come off now,” he says. “I’m home, baby.”

  “What, here?” I ask him, releasing him to grab the bottom hem of the shirt flirtatiously. He wraps his fingers between mine and kisses me again.

  “There are your parents,” he says, nodding behind me. He lets go of one of my hands to wave at them.

  “We don’t need to wait for them,” I say. “We’re getting a cab, remember?”

  “And Finn is coming this way,” he mutters quietly, ignoring me. I look over my shoulder at him approaching us. His smile is cocky. It normally is,
but it’s meant to sting this time, I know. He doesn’t know I told Jon about our kiss.

  “Jon,” he says, reaching his hand out.

  “Finn,” Jon says, extending his arm as if he’s going to shake his hand. At the last minute, though, he balls his hand into a fist and punches Finn in the gut. It’s not hard, just enough to catch him off guard and make a point.

  Finn covers his stomach with his arms, looking first at Jon, and then at me. We both smile at him, and all of a sudden, Jon’s got one hand on my lower back as his other hand cradles my head, his thumb rubbing my temple. Drawn to one another, ignoring everyone around us, we kiss again.

  “Public place,” I hear my mom whisper in my ear as I feel a hand on my arm. Both Jon and I pull away, blushing. I have no idea how long we were kissing, but it wasn’t long enough. I look around, remembering my surroundings and see Finn, who’s just staring at us with surprise.

  Jon raises his hand to Finn’s cheek, and pats it lightly. “That’s how it’s done, kiddo,” he says. Finn rolls his eyes and turns around, heading toward the rest of his family. “Can we please go?” Jon says softly, his bottom lip dragging along my earlobe as he talks. I nod my head as I turn to my mom, barely lifting my hand to wave goodbye to her.

  “Eight o’clock,” my dad’s voice rises above the crowd. “And hello, Jon,” he adds. We both stop, and Jon turns around to greet my father. It’s obvious his mind isn’t on proprieties right now.

  “Jack,” he says, acting surprised to see him. “I’ll make sure she’s home by eight.”

  “Thank you.” They shake hands as I tug on Jon’s arm, pulling him away. I just want him all to myself. I put my sunglasses back on, not wanting to be recognized by the cabby because I intend to kiss Jon the whole way to his dorm. Jon grabs his bags, handing me the smaller one so he can put his arm across my shoulder to guide me out the doors.

  “Do you want the good news or the bad news?” Jon asks as we settle into the backseat. I sit so close to him that he helps me arrange one of my legs in his his lap. He rubs my inner thigh slowly.