by Marta Brown
My eyes go wide. Is he kidding? And not about the taking classes part, but about me thinking he’s a joke. “Oliver, that’s amazing. Why would I ever think something like that is a joke?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I guess I figured I’m just your dumb jock friend.”
This time it’s me who drops my fork with a clatter. “What?”
“What?” he says, repeating my question and looking slightly embarrassed by my shocked expression.
“First off, you are not dumb. Or just a jock. You are an athlete. An athlete who has put in endless hours, days, and years training, practicing, and competing to be one of the best in his sport. And there is nothing dumb about that. And secondly,” I square my shoulders and narrow my eyes to make sure he sees how serious I am, “you’re more than just an athlete—you are the kindest, most generous person I have ever known.”
Oliver cocks his head to the right, giving me a silent, ‘Yeah, right.’
“I’m serious,” I say, reaching across the table and grabbing his hand. His palm is as familiar to me as my own after years spent playing on the beach as kids hand in hand. “You’re always coming to the rescue for the people you love. For your mom every time she goes through a big breakup, and your sister when she’s had a few too many drinks and needs a safe ride home, and let’s not even talk about my grandparents. Ollie, I can’t count how many times you’ve helped them out over the years at the restaurant. Or when Pop had his heart attack and you picked up his prescriptions from the pharmacy for my grandma every week for months.” I raise my brows. “And how about for me?
“When we were little, you were the only kid on the beach who didn’t tease me for reading in the shade while everyone else was playing in the sun, making me feel self-conscious and different. And now,” I glance around at our private dinner for two, still in shock, “You’ve given me the most amazing first date a girl could ever even dream of and all so I won’t be nervous for my real date tomorrow. So, no,” I say, hopeful Oliver can see himself the way I see him. “You are not just my super-talented, kind, and generous friend. You are my super-talented, kind, and generous best friend. And now,” I smile, giving his hand a squeeze, “I can add speaker of Italian and Ernest Hemmingway aficionado to the list of things that make you the best.”
“You forgot devastatingly handsome and good with his hands,” Oliver jokes as he wiggles his fingers like jazz hands, lightening the serious moment.
I roll my eyes as heat flushes my face. Oh, I didn’t forget. I just left them off the list so I wouldn’t freak him out. I doubt he’d be willing to take me out on fake dates if he had any clue I’ve always thought he was the best-looking guy I’ve ever known—and trust me—I’ve thought about his hands way more than any ‘best friend’ should.
A flush of heat runs across my cheeks at the thought of his hands gripping my hips in the water today, and I pray under the dim lights he can’t tell… or he thinks I’m just sunburned from our early morning session.
“I figured I didn’t need to mention any of those particular qualities since you’re obviously not lacking confidence in the romance department,” I tease before shoving the plate of breadsticks in his direction. “Now, tell me more about your classes, Romeo.”
…
“So, tell me the truth,” I say, staring out at the horizon from Mallory Square an hour and a half later with dessert in hand as the sun dips below the sea and sets the sky awash in pink and purple. “Is this your standard swooning date? Or did I get an Ollie original?”
He lifts his brow, a smile plays on his lips. “That depends.” He takes a slow lick of his gelato while eyeing me. “Are you thoroughly swooned?”
Totally and completely.
“Eh.” I shrug, pretending to be unimpressed, despite having just been on a date that could rival any written in my favorite romance novels. “I mean, I’ve had better. But I’ll definitely give you an A for effort since getting good grades is apparently your thing now,” I say teasingly before walking down the boardwalk as the cool, salty air blows against my sun-drenched skin.
“Oh, yeah?” Ollie says, running up behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist, and twirling us around in a dizzying circle until I’m laughing uncontrollably. “You say you’ve had better, huh?” He sets me back on solid ground, but he leaves his arms around my waist to hold me steady, which also keeps our bodies pressed against one another. “Good thing this ‘Ollie original’ is a five-parter. Remember? And by my math—you know, since I’m a college man and all—we’ve only done four. So… you ready for part five? The swooniest of all?”
The swooniest of all? Is that even possible after everything we’ve done?
With a smile as carefree and happy as summer itself, I slip my hand into his, ready to find out. “Swoon away, Oliver Hayes. Swoon away.”
Chapter 16
Oliver
“A pillow fort?” Katie squeals a few minutes later when I push open the front door to my apartment, revealing a colorful pile of blankets stacked high on the dining room table I dragged into the living room before I picked Katie up for dinner. Our old set up.
“So?” I kick off my shoes with a smirk. “Are you thoroughly swooned yet?”
Katie slips off her heels—looking relieved to finally be out of them—before rushing to the couch, pulling the cushions off, and tossing them on the floor. Her eyes twinkle like a little kid’s.
“Best. Date. Ever.”
“Perfetto,” I say, laughing at Katie as I snatch up one of the bed sheets and drape it between the couch and the dining room table.
And that’s exactly how the entire day has been. Perfect. Or pretty damn close—if you don’t count the fact that this is nothing but a practice date as far as Katie’s concerned.
To me? It feels as real as it’s ever going to be.
“Ollie, I’m not sure we’re going to fit,” Katie says, pulling me out of my head and back to the present as she lays the final sheet over the table.
As it covers nearly the entire living room, I take a quick peek inside and then glance back at her with a smile. “Maybe you won’t,” I tease like we’re twelve again, then duck under the top sheet and disappear.
“You think you’re so smart,” Katie says, beating me at my own game by crawling in from the opposite side and making herself comfortable before I even have a chance to stake a spot on the couch cushions now lining the floor. “It definitely seemed bigger when we were kids. Right?” Katie glances around our private little cocoon, the lights of the room dimmed by the mix and match of blankets hanging above us.
With my broad shoulders and long legs not quite fitting in the small space the way they used to, I shift onto my side and scrunch in next to her until, just like on the boardwalk, our bodies are flush with one another. Each of us lies on one side, looking at the other. Our faces just inches apart. “Yeah, but I guess a lot has changed since we were little,” I say barely above a whisper despite having the apartment to ourselves since both Mom and Megan are working.
Katie casts her eyes over the soft blue fabric she’s wearing. “Like the dress?”
“And the makeup.” I brush my hand against her cheek before tucking a stray hair behind her ear.
“And the muscles.” Katie smiles, giving my bicep a playful squeeze. “Those are definitely new.”
“Not that new,” I joke back as I flex under her palm and cause her to let out a small giggle.
“Okay, okay. Not that new,” she concedes before tucking one hand under her head while leaving the other hand resting on my arm. “But, yeah, things have changed.”
She looks up at me through her long, dark lashes. It makes my heart start to hammer as a beat of silence stretches out between us, our eyes roaming each other’s faces. Mine falling on the ghost of a smile still playing on her lips.
“I guess the reasons we’re here together, those have changed, too.” I look back into her eyes and swallow hard.
“What do you mean?” she whispe
rs while shifting her body even closer in the already tight space, making it almost impossible to think—let alone speak. So I don’t. I act.
“I mean this,” I breathe out before capturing her face between my hands and pressing my lips to hers; once, twice, and then a third time before pulling back, my heart no longer beating out of my chest, but totally stopped.
The shock on Katie’s face as she opens her eyes manages to not only kick-start my heart back into hyper speed, but also manages to send my mind flailing wilder than her first day learning to steer the kite. Dangerously out of control.
What have I done? Besides practically guaranteeing I’m about to get out of the friend zone—just not in the way I’ve been hoping, judging by the look on her face.
“Ollie—” she starts, her voice soft and uncertain, but I stop her before she can say anything else. I have to fix this.
“I’m sorry… I just… you know,” I stutter before scrambling out of the confines of the fort, thankful for the bright lights and clear air. A second later, Katie pops out with her face flushed and her eyes a little dazed, looking more than a little confused by my unexpected kiss. “I was… uh… just trying to give you the full first date experience.” I shrug, like it should be obvious, and pray she can’t see the truth—that I’ve wanted to kiss her for as long as I can remember and I got swept away quicker than a kite in a storm on a date that was never supposed to be mine.
“You know,” I clear my throat, “so you’ll be completely prepared for your real date tomorrow? But don’t worry. You’re good,” I say, snagging a sheet from the couch, crumpling it into a ball, and pretending to clean up. “Brad’s a lucky guy.”
Katie’s eyes clear. And then go wide. “Oh. Yeah. Brad.”
The way the words escape from her mouth, like she’s somehow forgotten why we were on this date in the first place, makes me freeze. Could I have read her face wrong—my own self-conscious fears clouding my sight? Was that not shock… but surprise?
I take a tentative step towards her, the balled-up sheet tossed to the couch and forgotten. There’s only one way to find out. And it feels like now or never.
“Katie—”
“Katie. Oliver,” Mom interrupts, pouring herself through the front door in a cocktail dress that looks like it cost more than our rent, Thomas close behind. “Look at how cute. You kids haven’t built a pillow fort in years. Look, Thomas, isn’t it cute?”
Thomas gives me an overly enthusiastic smile, baring his overly white teeth and wrinkling his overly tanned skin. “Not as cute as you, my dear.”
“Oh, Thomas,” Mom coos, swatting him on the chest, and making my eyes roll. At the action, and at his answer.
“So, where have you two been?” I ask, annoyed Katie and I were interrupted, and even more annoyed to see her with him. Again. He better not be staying over. “I thought you had to work tonight?”
“Thomas had a dinner with some potential investors and invited me to join them, so I took a personal day.”
A personal day? What is this a spa? I cross my arms, more pissed than annoyed now. “You mean you took a sick day. And is that a new dress?”
Thomas lets out a chuckle before strolling over and clamping his hand on my shoulder. “I know you’ve been the man around here for a while, but relax. I bought her the dress.” He glances at my mom and winks. “And if she needs money… she can always come to me.”
Fury climbs up my spine. Yeah. I bet, but at what cost since she’s already made sure Garrison and Sons are benefitting from the kite-surfing contest. What will a few more new dresses and a couple of rent checks get him next? The exclusive boat charter contract that’s up for the hotel’s key cottages? And then what?
Nothing. That’s what. Just like Dad, the biker dude, and all the rest. She changes, they get whatever it is they’re after, and then they bail. Every. Damn. Time.
“Speaking of new dresses,” Mom says, trying to cut the tension. My fists ball tight as Thomas keeps his hand resting on my shoulder. “That dress is gorgeous, Katie.”
Katie glances down at the pale blue strapless number that’s been killing me all night and fidgets uncomfortably. “It’s actually Jessica’s, but thank you.”
“Well, it looks absolutely beautiful on you. What’s the occasion?”
Seeming unsure what to say, Katie’s eyes dart to mine and silently beg me not to tell. Which I get. I’m sure the last thing she wants is Brad’s father knowing she just went on a date—or a fake date to be exact—with me.
“Uh, there was a thing, at the nature conservatory,” I ramble, trying to say just enough, while not saying anything at all. I shrug Thomas’s hand off, grab the balled-up sheet from the couch, and downplay the night. “It was no big deal.”
Katie drops her eyes to her dress, then the fort, and then back to me. “Oh… yeah. No big deal,” she says before grabbing her purse from the kitchen counter, slipping on her sparkly silver heels, and booking it to the door. “I better get home since its getting late, but it was nice seeing you both, and thanks again for today, Ollie.” She offers me a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes—not like the one she gave me on the dock while we watched the sunset, or the one at the conservatory when the butterfly landed on her shoulder after dinner, or even the one she gave me right before I kissed her lips.
I drag my hands through my hair. This is not how I wanted tonight to end.
Shit. I don’t exactly know how I hoped it would end. But I sure as hell know it wasn’t like this. Awkward. Uncomfortable. And unfinished. “Here, let me walk you home,” I offer, hoping to at least fix one, if not all.
Grabbing the doorknob, Katie shakes me off. “No, it’s fine. You’ve done enough for me today and it’s barely a block. I guess I’ll see ya tomorrow or something. ”
“Probably not tomorrow,” Thomas pipes in unexpectedly, causing me to whip my head around. And why the hell not?
“I’m sorry?” I ask, confused why he has any say in what I’m doing tomorrow, unless he and Mom have another event I’m somehow getting roped into.
Thomas crosses the room and wraps his arm around my mom’s shoulder, having my full attention. And Katie’s, too.
“Well, considering Bradley hasn’t stopped talking about hanging out with Katie tomorrow, I imagine she’ll be unavailable for the evening. Am I right?” He smiles.
Katie nods.
I frown. Oh. Yeah. Brad.
Chapter 17
Katie
Half expecting another DP session—or maybe just hoping for one—I roll over and glance at the clock as sunshine pours in through the slated whitewashed blinds, my fingers lingering gently on my lips. The lips Oliver kissed. Last night.
A creak from downstairs sends me scampering out of bed and to the mirror before Big Pop’s gruff voice echoes down the hall, up the stairs, and filters into my room. It’s just him and Grandma. No Ollie. Dropping the soft pink lip gloss to the vanity with a clank, I look at myself hard in the mirror.
“Lip gloss at the break of dawn… to see Ollie? Really, Katie, what are you doing?” I ask out loud as I flip my hair up into a messy bun and shake my head at my reflection. Or the girl formally known as me, because somewhere between the polydactyl cats, the pasta, and our pillow fort, I’ve completely forgotten who I am. Oliver’s best friend—not his girlfriend.
I blame the twinkle lights. And myself.
I forgot our date, much like the kite surfing, was for practice only and I let myself do the one thing I’ve made sure never to do for the last ten years that Ollie and I have been best friends—I let myself fall for him. Hard.
“So…” Big Pop’s booming voice startles me out of my head, and for once, I’m glad to be out of there. It’s too confusing. “How was your big date last night? Did ya kids have a good time?”
Good isn’t exactly the word I would use to describe the night. Molto bene might be more appropriate. It’s foreign, sexy, and if you don’t speak the language, it’s totally baffling. And r
ight now, gibberish might make just as much sense to me. Maybe more.
I kissed Oliver. Or, technically, he kissed me, but same diff. “Yeah, it was good. Ollie’s definitely…”
“One of a kind?” Big Pop says before taking a slow sip of his steaming hot coffee, a knowing grin on his face.
“You could say that,” I reply, half wanting to know what that twinkle in his eye is all about and half not. I shift under his stare after a few seconds, suddenly wondering if he can tell I got kissed.
I mean, is that a thing? Like when you get your hair cut and everyone can tell something has changed, but they can’t quite put their finger on it? Because while last night’s kiss might have been merely a trim for most, it feels more like a pixie cut to me. New, different, and altogether life changing.
Still feeling the tingle of Oliver’s lips pressed against mine, I realize I’ll no longer lie in bed—having just finished another romance novel—and wonder how my first real kiss will be. Or who it will be with. Or if it will be as perfect as it is in the books. Because it was.
Totally and completely perfetto.
Pop leans against the doorjamb and takes another sip. “So what is this I hear about you having another date then?
Oh. Yeah. Brad. Damn it. Why does that keep happening?
As I pull myself from my swoon-induced fog, a burst of nervous energy zips through me. And just like last night on my way home, and all the hours I spent up tossing and turning, I force myself to remember that Ollie kissed me as part of the fake date. It wasn’t real—at least for him—and whatever I’m feeling, I need to let it go faster than the safety hook attached to the kite.
Otherwise, I might just end up taking a nosedive into the uncertain waters that lie beyond mine and Oliver’s friendship. The place where ‘you’re a great friend, but…’ speeches live and friendships are ruined forever. I won’t let that happen.
