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"You're moving out?"
"Eventually." He folds one leg over the other. Looks up to me. Are you going to sit or not?
I do. But he's so close. Too close. God, he smells good. Like his earthy shampoo. "Eventually, in a few weeks. Or eventually… eventually?"
"I don't know." He presses his palm into his knee, pressing his leg into the cushion. "There's shit with my dad. I'm trying to deal. To keep my promise to Daisy, to stay here all year, but he's too fucking annoying."
"New shit?"
"Kind of."
Hmm. Gabe and Oliver do have an uneasy relationship.
And the tension at any shared dinner is incredibly thick. Like, they barely talk to each other thick.
Gabe tries, but Oliver shrugs it off.
And not in his usual quiet I'm hanging on the sidelines way. In a more leave me the fuck alone way.
But what's changed? Gabe always gives Oliver shit about drinking.
Oliver always shrugs it off.
Only now Daisy is at Berkeley.
And I'm here.
"Is it me?" I turn to Oliver. "If I'm giving you grief, you can tell me."
"Of course, you're giving me grief. You're a pain in the ass."
"Hey!"
"You said I could tell you."
"Not in such a rude way," I say.
"Just acting like you."
"When am I ever rude?"
"When?" He raises a brow really. "What about when you threatened to throw my cell out the window?"
"I was warning you. About an involuntary response."
"When you order me to make you dark roast."
"You love that."
He chuckles maybe. "It's still rude."
"But you do love it."
"I might." His eyes flit to my chest. "But only 'cause it reminds me of other times with bossy women."
"You like bossy women?"
"Not going there. Not with you. Not right now."
"You brought it up," I say.
He pries his eyes from my chest. "Even so." He turns to the fake TV. "It's not you. It's other shit. Without Daisy here, it's not worth it."
"Is it really that bad? He's never home."
"I could say the same thing about your parents."
"That's not fair," I say.
"I know. That's why I didn't say it." His eyes flit to me. "Your mom looked really fucking sad."
"She's leaving for a woman half her age."
"Half? Really?" he asks.
"Close enough."
He raises a brow.
"I don't have to justify myself to you. I remember what you were like when your parents separated. You were an obnoxious shit."
"When have I ever been an obnoxious shit?"
"You were running away from it. Getting in fights. Drinking all the time. Leaving Daisy alone with it."
His lips curl into a frown. "Yeah."
"Sorry. That wasn't fair—"
"No. You're right. I did. I wasn't there for my sister and I should have been."
Is that why he's here now? Some way to erase his past sins? That's sweet, but I don't want it to be true.
I want him here for me.
Because he likes me.
Because he wants to be around me.
His eyes meet mine. "I forgot what I was going to say. You're distracting me."
"How am I distracting you?"
He gives me a long, slow once-over. Raises a brow. "Are you really asking that question?"
"What? My outfit?"
He nods obviously.
"What about it?"
"What about your skin-tight jeans? And your low-cut tank top? What about the lace-up combat boots that scream fuck me in only these?"
"The boots do not say that."
"Uh-huh." He eyes my boots more carefully. "What are those, hiking boots?"
"They're Timberland, yeah."
"Only with a chunky heel. You're gonna hike in that?"
"I might," I say.
"Yeah, hike into someone's bed." He shakes his head get real. "I'm not complaining. I'm just saying, you dress to impress."
"And you don't?"
He shrugs I guess. "It's different for guys."
"Sure. But your jeans are snug on your hips."
"Are they?"
"And they're slung just low enough," I say.
He shrugs like he doesn't notice.
"You know they make your ass look fantastic."
"My ass always looks fantastic," he says.
"Because you spend ten hours a week at the gym."
"It's not for looks."
This time, I shoot him the get real look.
"It's an outlet. For my energy."
"You have energy?"
He play swats me. "See. Rude."
"You're the one listening to Nirvana all the time."
"What's that have to do with shit?"
"No energy there." I imitate Kurt Cobain's mumble.
Ollie cracks a smile. "That's fucking adorable."
"Spot-on, you mean."
"Sure." He chuckles.
I finish the chorus. Move to the verse. Get the first line. Forget the second. Go right back to the chorus.
His smile widens. "The makeup too."
"What about it?"
"What about it?" He makes a show of pouting. Blowing me a kiss. "That's I love to suck dick red."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm just saying."
"You are just saying?"
He nods yeah. "Been with a lot of women. The ones with that shade of red always…" He shrugs what can I say. "I don't want it to be true. It just is."
"Allison wears this color," I say.
"Well, maybe it's just a love of performing oral."
"Oh my god."
"I can see it with her. She's reserved most of the time. Always in control. When she lets her hair down, I bet she's fucking wild. But still in control. Just pinning—"
