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"Teacher's Pet, huh? How does the porn compare to the real deal?" I can't help but give her a wry smile.
She holds my gaze for two beats before her upper lip curls as she sticks up her dainty middle finger and gives me a raspy fuck you. Then, she turns her attention to the passenger side window, staring at the angry raindrops gathering, almost as pissed off as her. I lick my lips nervously. My mouth has gone completely dry and anxious at the turn I know our conversation is about to take. Raking my hand through my wet hair, I clear my throat, hoping it prompts her to look at me. Her big green eyes continue to stare out the window, running her fingers along the condensation.
"I really appreciate the act you pulled to throw your dad off the scent." I trail my hand over from the shifter and grip her knee. She promptly shrugs me off, adjusting her body to be as far from me as physically possible.
"It wasn't an act." She stares at me incredulously, more hurt than anger in her voice.
I scoff. "How can you even say that to me after yesterday? After last night? Neither one of us can deny what we had last night."
She shrugs dramatically and her left elbow hits my center console. She winces and gingerly rubs the red welt forming. "We fucked around physically. Most of it was my idea. It was a stupid way to potentially fuck things up for both of us." Her attention turns back to the rain. Her facade has slipped a bit, her profile softening marginally. This is so out of character for her, and I’m starting to feel like I have whiplash.
"This isn't on you, Olivia. I'm the one with the fully formed prefrontal cortex, and that's questionable at best."
She rolls her eyes. "Always the voice of reason."
"I mean it. You don't have to be the fucking martyr here."
"I’m not playing the martyr here…"
I pull into the empty trailhead and cut the engine. Her expression doesn't change despite the unplanned stop. Her blouse sticks to her skin, wet from the rain and maybe a hint of sweat. Her skin is pebbled like her nipples, pushing against her bra. My self-restraint is at an ultimate impasse as I reach out to trace the outlines with the tip of my index finger. My gaze dips lower, appreciating the white lace peeking from underneath the top. She crosses her arms defiantly, and I hold up my hands to signal a truce.
I recline in my seat. "Do you want to know the goddamned truth, Olivia?"
"Not really," she concedes.
"Too bad. Do you want to know the first fucking thing I thought after I walked out of your dad's office?" She doesn't answer, but inches her body a fraction closer and turns to look at me. I'll take it. The blood in my veins whooshes in and out in fast, precise movements. I suck in a breath, stalling. I've never been good at this. I've never cared if I was good at this.
"I thought of how happy I'd be at the end of the semester to take you on a proper date…"
She sucks in a breath, giving a small, exasperated cry.
"I didn't even think about how good you felt against me or how tight you were or how the real deal compared to the fucking month’s worth of fantasies. Instead, I thought about how natural you felt sitting across from me. How I would love to wake up on a Saturday morning and jog across campus with you. How the fuck you got in my head. Seeped into my blood, Olivia. That’s what I fucking thought about.”
"DeLuca."
"How I'd love to take you away for a weekend and hike and drink and kiss…"
"DeLuca," she says again.
"The semester is almost over. Your dad can't forbid us forever."
I probably sound like an obsessed madman right now, but I don't care. After our numerous encounters–by luck, by fate, by whatever it may be–I realize I have an actual connection with Olivia Hamilton, and I’m unprepared and unwilling to let that end.
"It’s not almost over, Tomas. Do you fucking hear yourself?" Her expression is controlled and measured, a perfect picture of neutrality.
"I can wait for you, apple." I give her a crooked smile, my hope and fear lingering in the air.
"Wait for me? DeLuca, I can't even legally go have a drink with you. Do you realize all that we have going against us?"
I rear back in surprise. "Since when do you care about that?"
"I've always cared. Playing with my pussy is one thing, DeLuca. Playing with my heart is another. I'm somewhat fresh off of an intense breakup. You're older, more mature. I'm sure you have women–established women–throwing themselves at you. I'm not exciting, DeLuca."
Leaning back in my seat, I'm dumbfounded and at a loss for words. A small laugh escapes before I turn to Olivia, who looks like she's trying not to cry.
"You know, a few weeks ago, your dad told me that you weren't good at asking for the things that you want. I'm starting to believe it. Whatever we have, whether just physical, romantic or platonic, it's all going to be viewed as taboo. It's not going to make everyone happy. You might as well just give in to yourself. Fucking think of yourself for once, Olivia. Jesus Christ." I pound the steering wheel with my fist, and Olivia looks rattled.
She tilts her head, no doubt weighing the words and the pros and cons in her head. She looks like she wants to say something, but stops herself, turning back to look out the passenger seat. What a fucking roller coaster of a day. I let her be the brooding one for once, and give her the opportunity to work out whatever she has going on in her head. I start the car and we make our way back to her apartment. We park close to her apartment, but not close enough to raise suspicions.
