by M. H. Soars
I twist in his arms so I can look at his face. “And favorite food?”
His lips curl into a devilish grin. “Your pussy.”
I pinch his arm. “You’re terrible.”
The smile vanishes from Oliver’s face and his eyes turn serious. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a jackass. I love you so much that the thought of something happening to you drives me out of my mind. I can’t think straight.”
My breathing stops and my heart clenches painfully inside my chest. He’s going to hate me when this is all said and done. I rise on the tip of my toes and kiss him so he can’t see the guilt in my eyes. It’s a sweet kiss but with enough heat to make my stomach flutter. We both try to keep our desires contained, bottled in until we can take this further in a better setting. It’s almost like we are teenagers, content to only explore each other’s mouth.
A dog barks nearby and we jump apart. Not even a foot from us, we can see the silhouette of a big German Shepherd.
“You didn’t say they had a watch dog.” Oliver tries to push me behind him. The dog barks and growls, inching forward. “Okay, you run to the fence while I distract the beast.”
I narrow my eyes at the approaching animal and I can’t believe what I’m seeing. “Xander?”
The German Shepherd angles his head to the side, before breaking into a run in our direction.
“Fuck. Run, Saylor!”
I walk away from Oliver’s body shield and crouch to receive the dog’s hug and kiss. “I can’t believe you’re still alive,” I say between giggles.
“Let me guess, old friends?” Oliver says from behind me.
“Yes, I’ve known Xander since he was a puppy.” I stand up and the dog keeps dancing around me.
“Blimey, I thought we were toast.”
Xander decides to pay attention to Oliver and growls in his direction.
“Okay, maybe I’m still toast.”
“Down boy, Ollie is a friend.” I pat the dog’s head.
Xander proceeds to sniff Oliver until he deems him nonthreatening. Then he walks a few paces to the side and lays down on his furry belly.
“Harry always wanted a dog,” Oliver says almost absentmindedly.
“And you didn’t?”
Oliver shrugs and looks out into the distance. “Sure. Dogs are great. But Harry was obsessed about the idea. He used to ask for one every day, he’d buy dog training magazines with his allowance and leave them all around the house. It drove our mother bonkers.”
“She never caved in?”
Oliver shakes his head. “No. My parents aren’t animal lovers.”
There are so many questions I want to ask, but I’m afraid to.
“We couldn’t afford a dog, but Mom got me a goldfish once. It died two weeks later.”
“Jeez, what happened?”
“Dunno. One day I came back from school, went to check on Elvis, and there he was, floating belly up.”
“You didn’t forget to feed him, did you?” Oliver smirks at me.
I swat at his arm. “No, jerk. I was a responsible kid.”
He grabs my hand and pulls me into an embrace. “You must have been such an adorable little girl. I would love to see pictures.”
I take a step back and put some distance between us. All my childhood pictures are at my mother’s place and I’m not ready to go there. This trip down memory lane has lasted long enough and I’m ready to return to the present.
“Come on, let’s go. I’m hungry.”
“For me, I hope.”
Feeling naughty, I give him a come-hither look. “I’m always hungry for you, babe.”
Twenty-Six
SAYLOR
I drive us back to my place because for once, I don’t want to be awakened by the sound of Allan coming into the office. Oliver’s idea to run his business from home is becoming more and more inconvenient. I keep my opinion to myself, though.
Once I park in front of the Goulas residence, Oliver peers out the window. “Are you sure this is okay?”
His question is not unusual. This is the first time I’ve brought him here. In reality, he has never set foot in my house. But if I’m going to let him into my life for real, I might as well start with the place I call home.
“Yes, as long as we keep quiet.”
Oliver turns to me with a grin on his lips and with eyes that sparkle with mischief. “This feels so high school, sneaking into your bedroom when everybody is asleep. I wonder if I’ll get lucky tonight.”
“If you play your cards right,” I tease and Oliver narrows his eyes, the amusement in his gaze turning into heat in a split second.
“Oh, sugar. I plan to.” He runs his fingers down my arm in a feather light touch, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its path. I shiver and rub my legs together before getting out of the car.
The chilly night air does nothing to cool off my feverish skin. Oliver follows me, and we walk in silence down the path that leads to the small guest house I call home. The only source of illumination comes from the lit up swimming pool and Oliver’s gaze is drawn to it.
“Don’t even think about it. Remi’s parents room faces the pool. I’m not skinny dipping with you.”
“I said nothing.” Oliver fakes innocence.
Out of habit, I turn the door knob, but find the door locked. I curse under my breath and look for my heavy keychain. I used to keep my door unlocked all the time, but thanks to that stupid note, I started using the key to the guest house Mrs. Ogata gave me when I moved in. Despite my belief the note was just an idiotic prank, I’m still taking precautions.
The door creaks loudly when I open it. Funny how I never noticed it before. I turn on the light and Oliver follows me. For once, the place looks tidy. Oliver walks in slowly, taking his time to get a feel of the room before he turns to me.
“Cozy.” I don’t miss the sarcastic tone in his voice.
I roll my eyes. “Go ahead. You can say it’s crap. I don’t care.”
Most of the furniture is mismatched and old. I haven’t bothered refurbishing it. My DIY days are over.
“Where’s the bedroom? It has a bed, right?” The corner of his lips twitch upward.
“Shut up. Of course I own a bed.”
Oliver moves closer and pulls me flush against his body. “Relax, sugar. I’m only teasing.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Lead the way, please.”
I lace my fingers with his and together we walk in my bedroom’s direction. I stop in front of the closed door and spare a moment to glance at him. He squeezes my hand and I don’t know what to make of that little action on his part. The only thing I know is that my heart is galloping out of control right now. I’m not sure why I feel so nervous all of the sudden. I finally open the door and he follows me in.
I keep my back to Oliver and stare at my unmade bed—shit, he’s going to think I’m a slob. I forget my insecure thoughts completely when I feel the heat of his body at my back. He touches my neck, then slides his fingers down my shoulders, eliciting a shiver from me. He tilts my head to the side and places a hot kiss on the base of my neck. I melt into him. His hands glide down my body and when his fingers brush against the underside of my breasts, I stop breathing. He chuckles against my neck, a throaty and sexy sound.
He wraps his arms around my waist and brings his lips to my ear, only to whisper my name. That whisper alone almost makes me come on the spot. I turn in his arms and bring my lips to his. This kiss is different than all the others, it’s hungry, passionate, but at the same time, sweet and meaningful. I can taste the heartache, the turmoil, all the emotions bouncing between us.
I jump on his arms and he catches me with ease, his capable hands squeezing my butt cheeks in the process. Our kiss intensifies, it’s all tongue and teeth now. We fall onto the bed together, Oliver on top of me, between my legs. My body hums at his touch, my entire skin reacts to him. Then the most shattering orgasm hits out of the blue by the mere friction of his erection against my core. I scream his name as
my nails dig into his arms.
“Fuck, sugar. Did you just come?” Oliver looks down at me wide eyed.
I’m still riding the wave of pleasure, so I just close my eyes and nod.
“I knew I was good, but not that good.”
My eyes fly open to find Oliver grinning from ear to ear. I watch him through slits before I roll us over in a swift move. Now I’m striding him.
“That didn’t count. It has been a week.”
Oliver’s hands crawl up my thighs until they reach my panties. His fingers trace the edges of my underwear, making my core throb even more.
“Too fucking long without tasting you,” he says but it sounds more like a grunt.
“And whose fault is that?” I raise an eyebrow at him.
“Mine. It’s my bloody fault.” His thumb swipes against my clit and I fight to suppress a moan. “I promise to not act like a caveman if you promise not to hide stuff from me.”
I can’t make that promise, but another swipe of his thumb has me mumbling something that sounds like an affirmation.
I’m going to Hell for this.
Twenty-Seven
SAYLOR
We recorded our duet the day after Harry’s birthday and it was as gut wrenching as I thought it would be. Our song is emotional and beautiful. I only realized it was about us in the moment I found myself alone with Oliver in the ‘magical box’, cut off from the world. We wrote a song about our love without even knowing.
Will Oliver be able to listen to it once I’m gone without feeling betrayed?
Thoughts like this have being plaguing my mind more frequently. Doubt has crept into my brain and my heart. I keep hearing Tabatha’s and Derek’s pleas, and the underlying accusations—Why are you such a coward, Saylor?
I’ve lost count of how many times my finger hovered over Derek’s contact number. But I always end up chickening out and not calling him.
To compensate, I put everything I have into work and before I know it, the week passes and our first single is released. It does well, but we are still unknown. It’s not until a month later—a week before Thanksgiving Day—when we drop my duet with Oliver that things explode. Everything & Nothing manages to crawl up to top 20 in the Billboard charts within a couple of days, and the simple video clip we’ve put together has over one million views already on YouTube. Wreck of the Day is finally on the map and I have Oliver to thank for it.
I should be happy things are progressing well and as I hoped, but time is going by too fast and the thought that next year I might not be here anymore makes me feel hollow, joyless. I couldn’t sleep last night, and I was glad Oliver drank himself to a total stupor celebrating our duet’s success, and didn’t notice my constant toss and turning. After one round of mind blowing sex, he pretty much passed out.
I get out of bed a little bit before five in the morning, knowing sleep is not going to happen for me. The house is as silent as a tomb, but the vestiges of last night’s celebratory dinner party are still visible in the empty champagne bottles and dirty glasses scattered over every surface. I head toward the sliding doors and step outside, welcoming the cold November night air. A frigid breeze comes out of nowhere, turning my skin into ice and almost making me go back inside. I spot a chenille blanket on one of the chaise lounges and make a beeline for it. I sit down and throw the soft protection over my shoulders. I’m still not as toasty as I would have preferred, but I can’t bear to go inside the house now. I need the solitude and staring at the illuminated pool has a soothing effect.
Today is Thanksgiving Day and Oliver and I have been invited to celebrate it at Liv’s parents. I don’t expect to see Mom there, even though Mrs. Dawson always invites her. She probably got a shift at the hospital, something she’s been doing for the past few years to avoid every single family-oriented holiday. I wish I could avoid it this year, too. I’m not sure how I’m going to hide the darkness festering inside my chest, the all-consuming guilt.
I must have fallen asleep eventually because I wake with someone shaking my shoulder. I blink my eyes open and notice the sun is already up. Charlotte is the one who found me, and now she’s sitting on the chair next to mine, staring at me with a question mark in her gaze.
“Let me guess. Couldn’t take my brother’s snoring any longer?”
“What? No. I just couldn’t fall asleep.”
“Yes, sometimes alcohol does that to me. I think we all indulged a little bit too much last night. Thank God that’s all Ollie did.”
She leans back on the chair to stare at the pool and crosses her legs at the ankles.
“You’re referring to his drugs consumption, aren’t you?”
“Yes. It used to be really bad. It’s a miracle he hasn’t become a hopeless addict.” She turns her face in my direction. “I haven’t seen him high since you got together. You’re good for my brother.”
I avoid her gaze and let her words consume my thoughts. Oliver did get high once since we became a couple on the day of Harry’s birthday. We were at odds and that was a rough day. He hasn’t touched any drugs ever since. I’d like to think that his dedication to work is what is keeping him from going down that path, not me. I’m actually praying it’s not me, because what’s going to happen to Oliver and his sanity when I die? Will he throw everything he accomplished away and return to his party-until-you-drop lifestyle?
“I didn’t say that to put any pressure on you.” Charlotte’s voice brings me back from my reverie. “No one should feel responsible for another person’s decisions. If you decided to leave my brother and he returns to his nasty habits, that’s on him, not you.”
“Do you think I’m going to dump Oliver?” I throw my legs to the side of the chair and face Charlotte.
She turns her body in my direction so now our gazes are locked. “Not at this very moment. But people change with time. It could happen. Actually, it will probably happen.”
“Have you always had that pessimistic view about love?”
Charlotte shakes her head and smiles without joy. “I’m not pessimistic. I’m realistic.”
The last thing I want is to sit here and chat with Charlotte about how she thinks Oliver and I are doomed. I already know we are and it’s not for the reasons she’s thinking, but I don’t need the bitter reminder.
“I’d better get back inside and make some coffee.” I stand up. “We have a long day ahead of us.”
Twenty-Eight
OLIVER
As we drive from Hermosa Beach to Littleton, I try to keep the Cheshire cat grin in check. Saylor has no idea about the surprise we have planned for her. The little rascal never told me her birthday was two days after Thanksgiving Day and if it weren’t for Liv wanting to throw Saylor a surprise birthday party, I would still be in the dark. But that’s okay. I can’t wait to see her reaction when my present is delivered to the Dawson’s house later today.
This won’t be my first Thanksgiving dinner. Sebastian’s uncle used to have those back in London and I’ve been invited a few times. I have the feeling this will be a completely different experience, though.
I glance at Saylor who is looking out the window, distracted. She’s been acting strangely since she awakened. I tried to get her to open up, only to have her claim she was tired. I’ve caught her rubbing her forehead a couple of times, as if she was trying to massage away a brewing headache. She could be hungover, even though I don’t remember her drinking that much last night.
I felt better when she presented me her clean bill of health. I didn’t even bother reading it. So I stopped looking for signs that Saylor isn’t one hundred percent well, but today it’s impossible not to see that something is up with her. I don’t bloody understand why she’s so closed off sometimes. Despite the promise we made to each other to be honest, I know she’s not keeping her end of the bargain. She’s hiding something from me.
I turn onto the Dawson’s street and force my mood killer thoughts to a dark corner. I can’t obsess about them now. It’s time to
put on the Oliver Best charm. I spot Sebastian’s car right away parked on the driveway and a few others.
We find the door unlocked and Saylor calls out Liv’s mom’s name as she steps into the entry foyer. We hear a reply from the kitchen and that’s where we head, Saylor holding the boxes of pie, and me bringing the container of booze.
Everyone seems to be in the big open kitchen, including Liv’s sister and her husband. Kimmy’s stare zeroes in on the box in my hands and she narrows her eyes. “Did you bring enough booze to get a college town drunk?”
I look down and count the bottles of whiskey, tequila, and gin. Maybe I did go overboard. I didn’t know what everyone liked to drink, so I got everything. “Maybe.”
Owen, Kimmy’s husband, walks around her and takes the box from my hands, placing it on the kitchen island. “Not bad, not bad at all.”
“I thought you were a beer guy.”
“Not when I have this.” He pulls the bottle of Hendrick’s gin from the box. “Hey, Murphy, we got tonic, right?”
“Yes, it should be in the garage with everything else.”
“Coolio.” Owen makes a start in the direction of the garage door, but Kimmy puts a hand on his arm.
“You’re not going to start drinking now, are you? You have work to do.”
“Chillax, babe. I’m just going to put the soda in the fridge.”
“And you need the bottle of gin to do it?” She arches an eyebrow at him.
Owen lets out a sigh of defeat and puts the bottle back in the box. He stares at me. “So close.”
“Not even,” Kimmy replies.
Watching their banter makes something warm and fuzzy spread over my chest. I glance in Saylor’s direction. She is distracted playing with Liv’s niece. Saylor is smiling and making faces at the baby, much to the kid’s delight. I feel a clap on my shoulder and get jolted on the spot.
