He unwraps one of the other burgers and double-checks that there are no pickles before biting into it.
The backdoor squeaks open and Joe pops his head in. “I smell food.”
“Hey, Joe,” Ollie calls with a slight wave. “There’s an extra burger if you want it.”
Joe’s lips twist in thought before he nods. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
He comes in long enough to grab the burger and then he’s gone again. It’s hotter than hell outside so I don’t know how he can stand sitting out there every day. I’d die. Poor Ollie has to work in here with no air-conditioning which sucks. He does have a fan set up on the counter, but it only helps a little.
“We leave in two days,” Ollie says with a smile.
“I know.” I smile back, giddy with excitement. Ollie and I traveled a lot once we got out of foster care, never staying anywhere too long in case someone caught on to the fact that we were underage kids living on the street, but once we settled in Malibu, we haven’t left much. “I’m excited. I was researching the area and there’s so much to do. Do you remember when the tickets said the return date was?”
Ollie’s brows scrunch up. “No, sorry. I didn’t pay attention to that. I was too excited over the fact that it said Peru.” He grabs a napkin from the bag and wipes his fingers off.
“That’s not important right now.” I wave a hand dismissively and grab a fry, swirling it in ketchup. “We’ll figure that out later.”
He nods in agreement. “I don’t know how Joe’s going to manage without me.” He glances at the backdoor.
I laugh. “Yeah, I wonder how Liam covered that with him to okay it for you to go away.” A thought occurs to me and I laugh loudly. “Oh, my God.” I place my hand on Ollie’s thigh. “What if Liam volunteered to take your place?”
Ollie snorts. “Liam doesn’t have time for that, but it would be funny if he did. Can you imagine him trying to deal with Joe?” He shakes his head and his blond curls bounce.
“It would be hysterical,” I agree. “I’d pay big money to watch that.”
We finish eating and I gather up our trash before heading back over to work.
Several hours pass before I get off, and when I clock out, I smell like cheap burgers and oil. I let my hair down from the ponytail I had secured it in and shake it out. I head around to the side of the building where my bike is and then walk it across the street to meet Ollie. He’s locking up the bike shop when I get there and he smiles when he sees me.
He slings his arm over my shoulders and steers me toward where Betty’s parked. He has to be to work before me, so I ride my bicycle to work and then we ride home together in the van. He’s offered numerous times to let me take the car in the mornings, but I love my time on my bike. It’s peaceful and relaxing to me, and I don’t want to give that up.
“We should start packing for the trip tonight,” I tell him. “We don’t want to wait until the last minute.”
He laughs and bumps his hip with mine. “Really? It’d be like old times.”
I smile in fondness at memories of us shoving our belongings into backpacks and hauling ass out of various places so that we didn’t get caught by anyone. At the time, it was scarier than anything else, but now I can look back at those times with a smile on my face.
I’m sure most people would feel sorry for us, growing up without parents and shuffling around to various foster homes before finally setting out on our own, but I only feel lucky. All that bad led me to the good in my life—to Ollie—and together, we didn’t let the darkness break us. In fact, together, our light is so blinding there’s no room for darkness and shadows.
We reach Betty, and he takes my blue bike, loading it onto the back.
The bike was a birthday gift from him this year. I’d noticed it when he first started working for Joe and fell in love. The bike is sky-blue with white accents and pops of red and orange. The handles are the same blue and it has a white seat. My favorite part is the little white basket on the front.
I was ecstatic when Ollie gave it to me and I could replace my old bright-yellow one. It’d been a good bike, but it was getting worn with as much as I used it.
When the bike is fixed onto the back of the van, I grab ahold of the collar of his shirt and tug him toward me.
He grins down at me. “You beckoned?”
I laugh and release his shirt. “Why don’t we head down to the boardwalk for a bit?” I suggest.
His eyes widen in surprise. I haven’t asked to go down the boardwalk in a long time. Most days after work, all I want to do is go home.
But I’m beginning to feel more like myself.
He nods. “That sounds fun.”
He takes my hand and we head down to the boardwalk, side by side.
The night air is slightly chilly, and I shiver, wishing I had a jacket.
Ollie notices and wraps his arm around me, drawing me against his torso. I smile and wrap my arm around his waist.
“The sky always looks so pretty here at night,” I whisper.
Stars speckle the sky like sugar sprinkled across a cookie. The moon rests low in the sky, and if you squint, it sort of looks like it’s touching the ocean water.
“Anywhere in particular you want to go?” Ollie asks.
I shake my head. “No, I just wanted to walk.”
His hand tightens against me. “We can do that.”
We walk further down the boardwalk and I smile at the familiar sights of the shops and people. The laughter and smiles are infectious. There’s a cart that passes by with a bubble blower on it and kids run after it, trying to catch all the bubbles.
“Ooh, cotton candy!” Ollie chimes like a little kid. “We have to get cotton candy.”
I shake my head but let him drag me to the cart where he orders two.
He hands me mine with a little smirk. “Just eat it, Tal. You know you want to.”
He’s right. I love cotton candy.
I take the cotton candy from him and pull off a piece of the blue fluff, popping it into my mouth. It melts in my mouth and I smile at him, laughing. “You were right, I wanted to.”
He grins back and pays the guy. We then walk further down the boardwalk and snag an empty bench that overlooks the water.
“You know,” I begin, “we’re really lucky to live somewhere so beautiful.”
He nods beside me. “I want to see the world, but this is where I always want to come home.” He shoves a handful of the cotton candy into his mouth and I laugh when a few pieces stick out of his mouth. He grins and makes a funny face, which only makes me laugh harder. He rips off another piece of cotton candy and stretches it over his top lip, jutting out his lips to hold it there, and crosses his eyes when he looks at me.
I smack his shoulder lightly, laughing. “You’re such a goof.”
He peels off the cotton candy and pops it into his mouth. “Gotta keep things interesting. If I don’t keep you on your toes, you’ll get bored with me.”
“Never,” I tell him.
I mean it, too.
Before Ollie, I never believed in true love, or soulmates, or anything else.
But I do believe in us, and I know that a love like ours is a rare thing.
And rare things?
You cherish them for all time.
“It’s D-Day!” Ollie yells, running through the house with his shirt off, beating his fists against his chest. He slides to a sudden stop and nearly bumps me as I come out of the bathroom. “Or is it technically P-Day for Peru? Oh, who am I kidding? P-Day sounds stupid, unless it’s a day dedicated entirely to peeing, in which it makes total sense.”
I shake my head back and forth. “Did you pack everything? We need to leave in thirty minutes.”
He presses his lips together and pretends to think. “Underwear. I forgot to pack underwear.”
I put my hand on my hip and cock my eyebrow. “Think real hard; anything else?”
He purses his lips and lifts his chin in thought. “Pants,
I also forgot pants … and shirts … and everything, because I didn’t pack.”
I pat his chest. “You might want to remedy that, like right now.”
“Right.” He gives me a sheepish smile and runs into our room. A moment later, I hear the sound of his suitcase come crashing down from the top shelf of the closet. “I’m okay!” he yells out.
I poke my head into the room and find him sprawled on the floor with the suitcase on top of him. “Ollie.” I laugh. “Are you okay?”
He gives me a thumbs up. “Just fine.”
I shake my head and head back into the house and to the kitchen.
Our home is small, basically more of a shack than a house, but I love it.
I make a quick bite to eat for each of us so we don’t have to eat at the airport then take Ollie’s plate into the bedroom for him and groan at what I find. “You have to be kidding me.”
He looks up from the floor and flicks his hair from his eyes. “What?” he asks innocently.
“That’s not how you pack.” I glare, horrified at the pile of clothes he’s dropped into the open suitcase. “That’s just a mess.”
He glances at the pile of clothes and shrugs. “I don’t see the problem.”
I groan again.
Boys.
“Here.” I hand him the plate. “Eat and let me do this.”
I drop to my knees and begin trying to make some sort of sense of the mess he’s attempted to pack.
I pull out a sweatshirt that’s mine and hold it up to him.
“Explain to me why one of my sweatshirts is in your suitcase? Last I checked, this wouldn’t fit you, and it’s hot in Peru.”
He chews and swallows his bite of toast. “I just grabbed everything from the one drawer and put it in. I didn’t look.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and he laughs.
“We’re not going to last one day in Peru if this keeps up.” I shake my head and pull everything out of the suitcase, putting into piles what’s acceptable to take and what’s not.
The acceptable pile I fold and put back in his suitcase. The other stuff I leave piled on the floor, because I don’t have time to mess with it, and it’ll have to wait until we get back.
He needs some more things so I rifle through the drawers until I find everything I need.
Once clothes are packed, I grab his things from the bathroom that I already put in the airport-appropriate bottles and carry them into the bedroom. I fix them into the suitcase and zip it up.
I sit it upright and stand with my hands on my hips. “Ready,” I declare.
I glance at the clock on our nightstand. It’s almost seven-thirty, which means we need to go.
Ollie notices the time and doesn’t say anything as he grabs both our bags and heads outside.
I take a quick look around, making sure everything is in order, before I follow him outside.
I get into the van and he slides behind the driver’s seat, looking over at me with a crooked smile. He takes my hand, entwining our fingers together, lifting my fingers to his lips so he can press a kiss to them.
“Ready for another adventure?”
I grin, excitement flooding my stomach. “Always.”
Thanks to a delay, it’s three hours before we get on our plane, but nothing can dull our excitement, because we’re on a plane, bound for a place we’ve always dreamed of going.
We stow away our carry-on bags and take our seats in first class.
“Liam spared no expense, did he?” I ask, rubbing my hands on the smooth surface of the arm rests.
Ollie laughs. “It’s Liam, what did you expect?”
Liam’s so normal that sometimes I forget that he’s a professional surfer. Not to mention, his dad’s a freaking rock star. A rock star. The lead singer of Willow Creek, to be exact. The first time I heard that Liam was the singer’s son I couldn’t believe it because he’s so normal.
“That reminds me.” Ollie sits up, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “Picture.” He grins. He holds out his phone and I lean in close to him. We take a normal smiling one before the silliness comes out. I blow out my cheeks and Ollie crosses his eyes. In another, I stick out my tongue, licking the side of his face, and he curls his lips like he’s disgusted.
He sends all the photos to Liam and Ari in our group text and then posts one of the funny ones on Instagram.
I take his phone, scrolling through his feed, and I have to laugh at the randomness of it. Some people put a lot of thought into how it looks and Ollie’s is a hot mess, but I wouldn’t expect anything less.
I hand his phone back just as the flight attendant begins her safety spiel.
Soon after that, we take off.
Up, up, and away, to much better places and new and exciting things.
It feels surreal when the plane touches down in Peru and we finally make our way outside.
I’m surprised to find that Lima is … well, a city.
For some reason, I was expecting a dusty, desert or jungle or something, but it’s nothing like that. In fact, if it weren’t for the shouts in another language we could easily be somewhere in the states.
We wheel our bags behind us, duffel bags slung across our shoulders, and head to a waiting taxi.
“Do you know where we’re supposed to go?” I ask Ollie. “Did Liam tell you?”
“Shit,” he curses, and pauses outside a taxi. He grabs his phone and turns it on. “He said there’d be a text with an address waiting when we landed.”
It was over an eight-hour flight to get from LAX to the airport in Lima, Peru. Add in the three-hour wait time before we even got on the plane and I’m ready for bed.
While Ollie messes with his phone, I mumble a quick hello to the disgruntled cab driver who has gotten out and is looking at us with disgust while Ollie tries to get the text.
I don’t speak a lick of Spanish—they do speak Spanish here, right?—so I give the driver an awkward smile.
He points to my bags and then the car, wanting to know if we’re taking the cab and I nod, letting him put them in the trunk.
He takes Ollie’s too and we slide into the car when the text finally comes through.
“We need to go here,” Ollie says, showing the man his phone.
The man takes it, squinting at the address before nodding and handing it back.
“I know where that is,” he says in stilted English, rolling his tongue around like the words are heavy and awkward there.
Ollie takes his phone back and tucks it into his pocket.
Darkness coats the sky like an inky cloak and I yawn, laying my head on Ollie’s shoulder. Peru is two hours ahead of California, which means it’s nearing ten at night—only eight our time—but the trip has exhausted me and all I want to do is climb into bed, stuff my face with room service, and fall asleep.
The cab driver navigates the crazy traffic—seriously, I thought California drivers were bad but they don’t have anything on this place—and he has to be careful not to hit the people on bikes that weave in-between the cars. It’s complete craziness.
I stifle another yawn as the cab driver throws his arms up in disgust, shouting what I’m sure aren’t very nice words at a teenager that rides by on a bike and knocks into his mirror.
It’ll be a miracle if we make it to the hotel in one piece.
I sit up and look out the window, taking in the sights, amazed that we’re really here.
We’ve dreamed of traveling here for so long that it seems surreal to think that we’re actually here.
Car horns honk and the nightlife is alive with chaos. The energy is infectious, and I find myself smiling.
Don’t get me wrong—I’m still going straight to bed.
The cabbie makes a sudden lane change and I slide straight into the door, banging my knee.
“Whoa, are you okay?” Ollie asks.
I laugh and smile at him. “I’m fine, probably going to have a bruise, but that’s okay.”
Our bumps, bruises, and scars
are badges of honor in my opinion. Even the ugly scar I now sport on my abdomen from the gunshot wound is something I cherish, because it means I fought to live.
The driver speeds through the night and into the heart of the city. The streets are flooded with people having a good time, restaurants reflect smiling happy people through the windows, and clubs have lines of people waiting to get in.
Everyone here seems to sport a smile on their faces.
Except maybe our cab driver. He looks pissed at life. Such a shame.
The driver pulls up outside a swanky hotel and my jaw drops. I bite my lip, holding in tears, because it truly hits me what an enormous gift Liam has given us. This isn’t cheap by any means, and the memories Ollie and I will make on this trip are more valuable than any physical gift.
We’ve been ghosting through life for the last ten months, simply existing instead of living like we used to, and Liam … Liam saw … he knew and he wanted to change it. I don’t think I’ve ever hugged the guy, but the first thing I’m doing when we get back is doing just that.
Ollie pays the cabbie and we slide out, grabbing our bags.
We head into the hotel and my jaw drops. The lobby boasts dark wood and copper accents and has this whole historical but upscale vibe that I find myself loving. I love places with meaning.
Ollie and I stop in front of the front desk and the woman working there looks up.
Ollie clears his throat. “Um … room for McGruff?”
I giggle and bury my head against his arm. When Ollie and I had to get IDs when we were eighteen he made up his own last name, saying since no one really knew his and he’d been using one of his foster family’s before that, he was free to use whatever he wanted. So he gave himself a whole new middle and last name. It’s something that still makes me laugh because only Ollie would come up with the last name McGruff.
The woman smiles pleasantly and types it into the computer. She nods a moment later and shuffles some papers around. “Mr. Liam has already taken care of payment.”
My lips twitch with the threat of laughter at Mr. Liam.
“You will need to sign these,” she says in her heavily-accented voice. She slides some papers across to Ollie and he reads them over—or at least pretends to read them over—before signing.
A Love Like Ours Page 3
