Page 29 of Out of Place

“I’m sure I will. Thanks for the driving lesson.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” I wink at her before she shuts the door.

* * *

Later that evening, I hit my lowest of lows, but luckily, no one is around to witness it.

I know exactly where Dawson is going to take Olivia on their date. It’s the only nice restaurant in town and a well-used place for first dates. Everyone goes there, which is why I would never take Olivia there. She deserves something special.

I can’t sit at home any longer, thinking about the two of them sitting across a table from each other. Is he holding her hand, looking into her eyes? Is he going to try to kiss her? Is she going to let him? The unknown is killing me.

So I hop in my truck, telling myself I’m going to stop by a fast-food restaurant and get a burger for dinner, which I do. But instead of going straight home after, I drive down Main Street a bit.

I’m kicking myself for not making a move before Dawson did, but I didn’t want to seem desperate. I wanted her to get to know me. But fucking Dawson grew a pair and asked her out before I could. Honestly, I’m still surprised he had the nerve. He was always a quiet dude in school.

I make an illegal U-turn when I reach the end of the brick buildings down the street. As I drive by the little Italian restaurant again, it just so happens that Dawson and Olivia are walking out. Olivia is smiling, but thankfully, she’s not holding his hand, and there’s a good five feet between them as they head down the sidewalk to Dawson’s truck.

Seeing them makes me feel better; there’s no way this date is going anywhere.

God, I’m pathetic. I pass the two of them quickly, hoping they don’t notice me. When I’m out of their line of sight, I pull the burger out of the bag and eat it as I drive home. Alone.

Selfishly, I want Olivia to be my girl. All I’ve got to do is convince her that it’s a good idea.

Shouldn’t be too hard. Right?

CHAPTER 11

Olivia

I’m knee-deep in dirt when I look up and see Landon standing over me.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

I’m sure it looks a little suspicious that I’m frantically digging up dirt around a bunch of sweet potatoes.

“I dropped an earring,” I explain, turning back to the dirt to keep sifting through it.

He kneels down next to me. “What’s it look like?”

“Um, it’s a gold and sapphire stud.” I show him my other ear so he can see the one still attached.

He starts digging next to me. “Did it fall out?”

“Obviously.”

He laughs, and I feel his gaze on mine. “Oh, wait. Look at me.” He wipes his hands on his jeans and then reaches for my hair. His fingers tug gently on one of my braids, and something falls into his hand. “Is this it?”

I look down at the earring and then up at him. “Yeah, it is.”

His face is inches from mine. We’re both sweaty and covered in dirt, but I can’t help glancing at his mouth. Do I want to kiss him? Does he want to kiss me? I think he does. His lips part, and he reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. That’s a classic “I want to kiss you” move, right?

What is happening?

I don’t even like kissing. When I’m with a guy, I’ll let them kiss me because I know it’s what they want. But I would rather get straight to the orgasming portion of the evening. And, at least in my experience, that doesn’t happen with kissing.

“Thanks,” I tell him, tearing my gaze away from his annoyingly perfect lips before I get any more hot and bothered. “My mom gave me these for my birthday a few years ago. I shouldn’t have even been wearing them out here today. Guess I was just feeling a little homesick.”

I don’t know why I share that when he didn’t even ask. Maybe because he keeps being nice to me. I’ve noticed that when I talk, he looks at me like he’s genuinely interested in what I have to say, which is rare for me. Even when I was out with Dawson the other night, he looked at my tits more than my face.