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“Olivia.” Her name is a mixture of a sigh and a groan. All of my quickly building irritation falls away. I feel like shit, but it doesn’t mean I have to treat her that way. I can answer her. “I’m not thinking, okay? About anything at all. My mind is clear, empty, and focused entirely on how you feel. That’s how it’s possible.”
“How do I feel?” she whispers.
“Like everything I’ve ever needed in this world wrapped up in one beautiful body.”
“Sounds like I feel amazing.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “You do.”
“What’s your favorite color?”
While talking isn’t on my high priority to-do list, I can play along with simple questions like that. “Red. Yours?”
“Yellow because it’s bright and happy.” Figures. Her response makes me smile, though.
“What’s your favorite day of the week?” I toss out one of my own.
Olivia grins. “Saturday. What’s yours?”
“Monday.”
“Monday? Everyone hates Mondays and that’s your favorite day of the week?” she skeptically asks.
“Yeah. Monday puts an end to the previous week and starts a new one. There’s hope in every Monday that the upcoming week will be better than the last.”
She nods in understanding, but then her eyes widen. “When is your birthday? I can’t believe I don’t know. Mine is—”
“August 18,” I finish for her. “I’ve seen your ID, remember? Mine is March 20.”
“Corey! That’s next week! If I hadn’t asked, I would have missed your birthday. Were you planning on telling me this?”
I chuckle. “Of course.”
“When?” she demands.
“A day or two before. I usually go down to see my siblings and have dinner, but not sure what we’ll end up doing this year with everyone’s schedule and it being during the week.”
Her lips part. “A day or two before?! I can’t shop for a birthday present with so little time.”
“Just buy some ribbon and make a few bows around your body. There’s my present.”
She roll
s her eyes. “I’ll think about it. Favorite season?”
Without thinking, I reply, “Football season.” Oh. “Um, I mean, fall. I’m not really a fan of the beach, even though we don’t live around one, so summer won’t make the cut. Spring is nice, so it would be second. You wear hoodies all winter, so that’s out too.”
Her smile is small. “Told ya you’re a hoodie-hater. Will you go to one of Patrick’s games next season? This will be his last year, right? I’ll go with you.”
I’ve felt bad because I didn’t watch Jon play any during his last season. Could I go to my old field and watch my baby brother play the game I used to play with him? I do miss being able to talk football with them. “You’ll go with me?” She nods in reassurance. “Yeah, I want to go. What’s your favorite season?”
“Winter.” She winks. “I love hoodies.”
Her statement brings to mind an old memory and I leave her in bed, walking briskly to my closet.
“What are you doing?”
I grab a box down from the top shelf, my heart hammering and beating my chest as I drop the white cardboard container at the foot of my bed.
