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“Yeah, but I don’t want to talk about it,” she says quietly.
Shaking my head, I let out a half-hearted chuckle. Figures. She doesn’t have to talk if she doesn’t want to, but she’ll force me.
Olivia doesn’t acknowledge my laugh. “We should do some yoga.”
“No.”
“It’ll make me feel better. You too. Or we could go to the gym here and do something you like.” She’s still staring at the ceiling.
“No.” Doing yoga in her apartment is one thing; going to a gym and exercising is another beast. I haven’t been to a gym since my injury, and I won’t start now.
Her head shifts on the pillow to face me. “Do you still exercise and work out?”
“Do I look like I do?” I question with skepticism. My stomach isn’t as firm as it used to be, nor as flat. There’s a little layer of fat there now that wouldn’t have ever appeared if I was still playing. I’m even pretty sure I’m starting to get flab on the underside of my arms.
Olivia’s eyes give me a once-over. “Yeah.”
I take her hand and make her poke my stomach. “I don’t, or it wouldn’t feel like that.”
“Like there’s a very small, soft coating to all that hardness?” she mocks. As if I’m lying, and I’m still in shape. I’m not. Maybe by normal standards I am, but not by football standards.
She should learn to stop asking about what I don’t want to talk about. Let’s throw it back at her. “Why did you have a bad day?”
“Why do you refuse to talk to me? Or anyone else for that matter?”
I sigh. Figures she’ll evade the question. “Haven’t I done enough talking already? Give me a break here, Olivia.” She’s about to get kicked out if she keeps on.
“Sorry. You’re right. You’re being nice to me and I’m being pushy again. I’ll wait until another day.” She doesn’t give up.
“Thanks.”
We’re quiet only for a moment. “You know how there are days where absolutely nothing goes right?” Olivia asks.
“That’s been my life for over a year.” I mean it as a joke, but it falls flat.
“Well, that’s why I had a bad day. Everything went wrong. One reason why I was out grocery shopping so late.”
I’m unsure of what to say. It’s not like my siblings come to me when they need to talk. Patrick is the go-to person for that. I’m good at helping take care of them and being strong so they don’t have to be. But listening and being supportive isn’t my specialty. I decide to try.
“Tomorrow will be better for you.”
“Hey,” she says, rolling onto her side. “For you too, Corey. You made the first step in that direction today.”
Hm. “Yeah, I guess I did.”
She smiles. “Night, Corey,” she says before closing her eyes.
“Good night, Olivia,” I whisper.
Olivia falls asleep before I do. While I’ve been here thinking about nothing, my hand behind my head, she’s been scooting closer and closer to me. Her arm suddenly reaches out, lands on my chest, and she eliminates the last bit of space between us. For a moment, I barely breathe. It’s not like I’ve never had a girl in my bed before, yet this is distinctly different than those times.
My eyes are starting to get heavy, so I move my arm around her and tuck her closer. This is a taste of normalcy, a small piece of happiness I may have one day when the good outweighs the bad. I like this and the hope it presents for the eternal tomorrow. While this feeling will probably be gone by morning, I’m going to enjoy it while I can.
WHEN I WAKE up, it’s to find Olivia all over me still. Her leg has moved between mine and her head is on my chest. There probably isn’t even enough room for air between us. The biggest thing I notice is that I feel good this morning. Really good. Maybe today will be a great day.
I’m distracted as Olivia’s body moves against mine as she stretches, awakening. She lifts her head, sees she’s cuddled up with me, and her eyes widen a bit before she moves away.
“Oops,” she nervously laughs. “Morning.”
