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Because as much as I try to deny it, Olivia is an attractive woman.
And I’m pretty sure that, if she’d let me, I’d welcome her into my bed with open arms. The really worrying bit is how much my imagination makes her want to stay afterwards.
CHAPTER 9
OLIVIA
It’s been a month since I picked Miles up at the airport, and I can safely say that this is the hardest I've worked since grad school — and maybe that one internship where I helped with a law firm’s advertising campaign. But I was trying to impress people then. That was all about growing connections, building a portfolio, developing my résumé.
With Miles, all I'm trying to do is keep him on a tight leash, which really shouldn’t be that hard. And yet, I keep feeling like I'm failing.
It doesn't help that I only get a handful of days off. I’m exhausted and frustrated and constantly on edge because I can’t stop worrying that at any second, I’m going to be told Thank you very much for all your work, but unfortunately, we no longer have a position available for you.
Tonight, though, I’m putting all thoughts of Miles out of my head. What’s the point in having a day off if you can’t do whatever you want?
I message Elena and Tali when I wake up, telling them that I need to go out clubbing as soon as humanly possible. Both of them reply immediately with assorted thumbs-up and heart emojis. These girls are my absolute best friends in the world, and I wouldn't give them up for anything.
The day drags by with the kind of pace that keeps surprising you, when it’s always earlier than you thought. I get some of the chores done that I’ve been putting off and cook myself a decadent lunch, and later on spend a long time getting ready.
I’m perhaps going a little more all-out than I need to, but I never get chance to do this. I shower, then dry and curl my hair properly, even breaking out the hairspray. I’m planning out my makeup as I scour my closet for a dress. I barely ever wear dresses anymore, preferring the professional image that pants give me at work. I don’t like anyone to underestimate me.
But I like to dress up too.
Nothing is calling to me, and I’m about to just pick something at random when I notice a green number right at the back of the closet. I fish it out and grin. Perfect. It’s slightly too short to be a casual day dress, one strap off the shoulder, the whole thing covered in swirls of gold. I pull it on and look at myself, and I’m almost surprised by how much it suits me. This matched with a pair of heels is going to be great.
I get a cab into town as the evening starts turning into night. I figure that I’ve driven other people around so much lately, so now it’s my turn to be the passenger for a change. We've decided to go to Elena’s favorite bar, a quiet place that’s out of the way of tourists and vacationers. You only go here if you're local and you want to have some real fun.
When I arrive, Elena and Tali are already outside the club, waiting for me. They're both dolled up, Tali in a flashy pantsuit, Elena in a dress that sparkles bronze like her skin.
“Olivia, hi!” squeals Elena when she spots me. The second I get close enough, she flings her arms around me, squeezing me tight and planting a big kiss on my cheek, her lipstick smudging against my skin. I don't get a chance to wipe my cheek before Tali moves in for a hug too. Her embrace is stronger, but still comforting. A hug from Tali is always like coming home and knowing you’re safe.
I take both of their hands and grin once she releases me. “Come on, then, girls. What are we waiting for?”
Fortunately, it’s a warm night so waiting outside isn’t too torturous, but when the bouncer lets us in without a smile, we make a beeline straight for the bar. This place does great cocktails, and tonight I don't want to think about anything other than getting sweaty on the dance floor. It’s another reason to have got a cab. The mocktails here are great, but being sober isn’t going to help with my plan to empty my head.
We all get mai tais and we make the bartender put a little umbrella in them, even though that's not how they’re meant to come. He barely flinches at the request — it’s surely not the weirdest thing he gets asked on a daily basis.
Tali drags us out into the throng of people starting to jump around to the playlist of eighties hits, and we get swept up in it, hands above our heads as the music thrums through our bodies, the bass pulsing in time with our hearts. For a glorious moment, all that matters is the flashing lights, the heat of people jumping beside me, singing at the top of my lungs totally out of tune with anything. It doesn’t matter. No one can hear.
Here, I’m nobody at all, and that lets me be free.
Eventually, our knees want a break and we need another drink, so the three of us weave our way back towards the bar. Tali puts the orders in, and Elena leans in to raise her eyebrow at me. “Who’ve you got your eye on?” she asks with a wink.
My face immediately feels hot. “No one,” I say, too quickly to be believed. I didn’t come here tonight with the intention of finding anyone. All I want to do is dance, drink, and forget all my stresses for a little while.
But that doesn't mean I'm incapable of finding other people attractive. On my day off, I figure I can pretty much do whatever I like. And I have to confess that I have had my eyes drawn to this one particular guy. I spotted him when we were dancing, like a ghost in the crowd, lights sweeping over him and catching my attention.
From over here, he looks tall and sturdy, like you could wrap your arms around him and he wouldn't move a muscle. Like the whole world could be shaking and he would stay in place. I haven’t quite managed to get a good look at his face, but he’s got the kind of haircut men have when they still want to think they're young and playful, sitting on top of high cheekbones and a strong jaw.
I wasn't planning on meeting anyone tonight or taking anyone home, but I am going to allow myself to indulge in fantasies of a stranger’s lips on mine. A stranger’s firm hands holding me like I’m precious, just for an evening.
“Who is he, then?” says Tali, obviously overhearing us and sticking her nose in as she hands us our drinks.
“How should I know?” I scoff, fiddling with the umbrella in my drink. I’m not quite sure how many cocktails I’ve had now, but the buzz in my brain is pleasant. I haven’t quite hit that threshold that turns your brain from feelings of fun into sludge.
Then the guy turns around fully, and it smacks me full in the chest with the power of a hundred horses that I do recognize exactly who he is.
It’s Miles.
