“Wanna check out the sunrise with me, Margot?”
I startle and realize I’ve taken an involuntary step closer to Forrest. Ollie is looking at me expectantly. “It’s going to look epic from over there,” he says, pointing somewhere off to the right.
“Sure,” I blurt, smiling at him like my heart isn’t doing wheelies around my chest. What the hell is happening to me?Think of Adam, I command myself.Remember how that worked out for you?
“Need a hand before we go?” Ollie asks Forrest.
Forrest doesn’t look up at us as he refills the kettle, but something in his carefully neutral expression betrays his hurt feelings. “You two go ahead,” he says, and I find myself telepathically shouting,Tell me to stay and I’ll stay!
But Ollie’s hand is on my back, and before I know it, he’s saying, “Great!” and leading me away from the campsite.
After briefly excusing myself at the portable outhouse to pee at the speed of a NASCAR pit crew, Ollie and I trudge through the unbroken snow toward the neon half-dome of sun peeking up over the horizon. The lower half of the sky is already a painting of electric orange and pink swirls of cloud, fading upward to a fathomless blue where the last stars are still winking out.
“Wow, how was this not the first thing I noticed?” I ask as our crunching footsteps come to a halt at a bend in the cliff edge. He’sled us far enough away from the group for it to feel like we’re the only two people left on earth.
“Pre-coffee brain,” Ollie explains. “No excuses now, though.” He taps his mug to mine before taking a drink. He swallows it down and immediately pulls a face.
“That bad?” I ask, his easy charm coaxing a smile from me.
“Well, I doubt Forrest pissed in yours. You’re probably safe.”
“Stop,” I say, laughing. “He would never. He’s just…”
“Sending me a message?” Ollie interjects, taking another sip of his awful coffee with an exaggerated eye twitch.
I’m trying to get my smile under control, and it’s not working. “Stop being dramatic. There’s no message hidden in the grounds, Ollie.”
He turns to face me, and I’m struck again by how good-looking he is, with eyes almost the same auburn-brown as his hair and freckles of the impossible-to-count variety.
“You sure?” he asks, looking down his nose and sticking out his tongue, which has actual grounds clinging to it. “I can’t see them too well, but I’m pretty sure they spellBack Off.”
I’m laughing, but his words send an unwelcome tingle through my stomach. The same one I felt when Forrest sent Ollie away yesterday with his tail between his legs. Or when his control snapped and he kissed me like the world was burning down. He’s protective. A little territorial, and if I’m honest, there’s a deeply unevolved part of me that minds it not one bit.
“Go ahead, then,” Ollie challenges. “I dare you to take a sip of yours and tell me it isn’t phenomenal.”
Giving him a skeptical look, I take an experimental sip and—oh. Hot, sweet, creamy goodness fills my mouth like the answer to all my frostbitten prayers. I taste my favorite combination of oat milk and honey, and a different kind of warmth slides into my belly. Forrest knows how I take my coffee. He packed my fussy ingredients. Carried them on his back for miles, when every ounceof weight in a hiking pack matters. Is this another trope? If so, I’m okay with it. Huge fan. It feels like more than an olive branch. It feels like a gesture. A message. I take another slow drink and can’t repress my small sound of pleasure.
“See!” Ollie half laughs, half cries in outrage. “I knew you’d get pour-over perfection.”
“I don’t know what you’re implying,” I say, sounding about as shifty as it’s possible to be.
“Hey, come on,” he says, putting a hand on my arm and dragging my attention away from the sunrise, which has only gotten more spectacular in the intervening minutes. I look up at him, and his smile fades into something serious for once. His hair is a copper fire in the sunlight, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer. “I think you do know.”
I don’t answer him. I’m too busy not breathing.
“I like you, Margot,” he says, capturing my gaze. “And I get why you chose Forrest last night. He’s… layered. Scary. The Bruce Wayne to my Peter Parker, if you will.” He shifts closer when a reluctant laugh escapes me. “But we only have a few weeks left, and I just wanted to put this out there. That if you were looking for something easier…” He pauses, considering his next words. “I could be easy for you.”
At this declaration, my stomach swoops, and he smiles down at me. “I’m not a doctor with a secret bat cave, but we could have fun together,” he goes on. “I could tell you how ridiculously pretty I think you are, and when it’s time to part ways, we could say goodbye as friends. It wouldn’t need to be complicated.”
I blink, my mind stuck in buffering mode as I process his offer. An easy, no-strings hookup buddy instead of… Forrest. Forrest, who trips all my alarm systems with one dark glance. Forrest, who, simply by existing, challenges the beliefs over which I lost my career and beloved readers. Forrest, who has his ownprobably excellent reasons for regretting our kiss, which I’m not at all curious about. Forrest, who terrifies me.
My eyes trace the contours of Ollie’s face. If I were making choices, he would be the right one. I can easily imagine us tumbling into bed together, and I know how fun it would be because men like Ollie are my safe zone. Playful, hot, and commitment-phobic.Easy.
“I…”Want to want you, I think. I should say yes. Or nod. Wink, maybe? No. But something—
He leans down and kisses my cold cheek. His face is cold, too, but his breath is warm against my ear as he lingers and says, “Just think about it, ’kay?”
He leans away, and I hear myself say, “Yeah. Sounds good.”
