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“Don’t even worry about her, Lil. I’m not giving her a second thought.”
I feel reassured by this, opening the door to our hotel room and stopping short at the sight of the king-sized bed in the middle of the room. Like the proverbial elephant in the room but only bigger. I creep into the room, looking with determination anywhere except for at Oliver and the bed. I curse myself again for not having thought about this at all. Oliver and I will be sharing a bed. Sharing. A. Bed.
I clear my throat and look at Oliver, who is also looking anywhere but at me and the bed. He walks over to the window to take in the view, while I sidestep around the elephant bed, walking up to the small desk where there is a folder with our names on it. Grateful for the distraction, I open it to find a full itinerary printed of the activities for the next two days.
“Brunch on the lawn at 10:00 a.m. tomorrow,” I read out loud as Oliver gets our suitcases and wheels them further into the room, setting them down next to the closet. “Beach activities, followed by a picnic. And a joint bachelor-and-bachelorette party tomorrow night.” I groan, looking at the long list of things we will have to endure over the weekend. So much for keeping a low profile, making a brief appearance at the wedding, and then disappearing.
“Sounds like fun,” Oliver says, reading over my shoulder. “Beach volleyball and tug of war? I’m up for it.”
“Of course you are,” I reply. “You are always happy to get out and be active. What is so wrong with a spa day, followed by room service in our robes?”
“We can do the room service tonight,” Oliver offers.
“Really?” I love room service. “You wouldn’t rather go out?”
“I’m tired from the drive, and it has been a long week. Why don’t we order in and watch a movie on Netflix?”
I think this sounds like pure bliss, so I grab the in-service menu and begin perusing the options.
“We should get dessert as well,” I mutter as I try to decide between steak and lobster.
“We can get whatever you want, Lilly.”
Looking up, I see Oliver watching me with an indulgent smile on his face, and I melt just a little. Why must he always be so good to me?
Two hours later, after ordering both the steak and the lobster (at Oliver’s insistence, so we can each try a bit of both) and a slice of heavenly chocolate cheesecake to top off the night, Oliver and I are sitting on the bed, leaning back, laughing at some silly comedy movie on the TV. Well, Oliver is watching it. Me? Well, I am not paying any attention to what is on the screen in front of me, too focused on the man beside me. Too busy taking in his divine scent. And the feel of his arm when it brushes against mine. The night ahead is going to be torture for me. I watch Oliver from the corner of my eye, and he looks so comfortable, not affected at all by my nearness. He is not concerned in the slightest at the thought of sleeping next to me. Amy has this all wrong; Oliver clearly has no romantic feelings for me.
“Hey, Lil, the movie is over.” Oliver says, breaking me out of my internal monologue. “Do you want to use the bathroom first? We probably should get some sleep to prepare for the big day they have in store for us tomorrow.”
“You go first,” I offer, trying to gather my scattered thoughts. How can he be so unaffected by this situation?
While Oliver is in the bathroom, I send a frantic text to the girls, apprising them of the situation. True to form, not a single one of them is at all helpful, sending back smiley faces, eggplant emojis, and memes of people kissing. I need to get new friends.
“Bathroom is free.” I look up from my phone to see a fresh-out-of-the-shower, oh-so-adorable Oliver standing before me in a pair of grey sweatpants and nothing else. As I look at his chest and sculpted abs, I gulp, and gathering up my bag, I rush into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. For Oliver’s safety, not mine.
After a freezing-cold shower and several stern talkings to, I let myself out of the bathroom and see Oliver already in bed. He looks amazing with the light bouncing off his smooth chest. I hurry to put my clothes away and make my way towards the bed, stopping when I see Oliver is staring at me with a fierce expression on his face. As I follow his gaze downward, I realise I am wearing his T-shirt and a tiny pair of night shorts. He is not to know that I have taken to wearing his T-shirt to bed almost every night, and not having anticipated sharing a room with Oliver—so stupid—I packed this to wear this weekend.
“You did say I could keep it,” I remind him, trying to break the weird tension in the room.
Oliver says nothing, continuing to stare at me. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, then he looks away to stare hard at the ceiling.
I creep into the bed and try to think of something to say to make this less uncomfortable. As I slide under the blanket, as close to the edge as possible, I joke, “Well, we haven’t done this before.”
“Done this?” Oliver asks in a distracted voice, still staring at the roof.
“Umm, slept in the same bed.”
“I seem to remember many a night sharing a bed with you, Lilly,” Oliver offers.
“This isn’t exactly a sleeping bag in a tent in the woods, now is it?” I say with a relieved laugh. “And we aren’t eight years old either.”
Oliver looks over at me, his jaw clenching, taking in my face peeking out from under the blanket, before his gaze traces the outline of my body. “No, we certainly are not kids anymore.”
“This will be fine, won’t it, Ollie? We can do this. I promise to keep to my side of the bed and not hog the blanket,” I say, again trying to lighten the mood.
“You know you will be safe here in this bed with me, don’t you, Lil?” Oliver asks with a look of sudden concern.
“Of course! I know you wouldn’t try to make a move on me, that you don’t see me that way. We are just two friends camping out together again.”
