Page 55 of That First Flight

The only money I have right now, is everything I saved up from working at the Bar and Grill, nothing more since I haven’t been working since I got here. Things in the city are not cheap. So heading out to spend our savings to find an outfit I’ll likely only wear one time was not happening.

Oliver has been a true blessing when it comes to making sure the two of us are fed. I’ve been great about walking everywhere with Mackenzie, even to and from school so that we aren’t paying for taxis.

A knock on my door startles me and I jump at the sound, hand grasping my chest when I look down and realize I’m not even wearing a bra. The only thing I have on is an oversized tee that hangs low enough to cover my sleep shorts making it look like I have no pants on.

“Yeah?” I call out nervously.

The door squeaks open and Oliver stops dead in his tracks as soon as his sight lands on me. Hand still gripping the door, he trails his eyes down my body. All of a sudden, I’m having trouble breathing and I feel my nipples harden under my shirt despite the heat being on in the apartment.

Slowly, his tongue slides along his lower lip as he wets his lips, swallowing before he says, “Well… good morning.”

The man staring at me now is doing something to me that I just can’t explain. A strong desire pools in my gut, wanting his hands all over me. My brain fires off thoughts of what it would feel like if he pressed his lips to mine.

Stop, Macey.

Turn it off.

That’s your freakin’ roommate!

“It’s customary to say good morning back when someone says it to you.” Oliver smirks. “Or I mean… say anything at all.”

“I’m sorry. Yes. Hi. Good morning.”

A soft chuckle escapes him before he finally steps fully into my room.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I came to see whatyouwere doing.”

A smile stretches across my lips. “I’m just trying to get ready for my interview.”

“Do you have something picked out yet?”

I shake my head. “I’m trying to figure that out now.”

“Perfect.”

Oliver runs out of my room and I’m left standing there, staring at the open door wondering what the hell that was all about. One minute he’s there, the next he’s gone with no context whatsoever.

I finally snap myself out of the trance and get back to my closet to look for the nicest shirt I own when I hear a throat clear. Like a magician, he’s standing in the same spot he just was but this time holding a black garment bag.

“Stop looking. I got you something.”

My gaze dances back and forth between him and the bag he’s showcasing in the air. “A ball gown isn’t what I need for this interview,” I joke.

“Damn. Really? So you think I should return it.”

I blink without being able to find the words to answer him.

“It’s not a ball gown,” he tosses back. “I had a custom-made suit made for you.”

“A what?”

“It’s a suit. For your interview.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I wanted to.” He shrugs. “And you know that I—”

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