Page 99 of Alik

My throat closes, and I squeeze Olive tightly while rocking side to side.

I didn’t know I felt unlovable until now. I didn’t know I needed this until now.

I didn’t know I was capable of love until now.

Taking in one last inhale, I bring Olive’s face to mine and kiss her deeply, injecting so much passion into it that I hope she can feel what’s happening inside of me.

She moans as she kisses me back, arching up on her toes as both our bodies stop swaying, giving all our attention to the kiss.

Her tongue sweeps my lips, and I meet it with my own, pulling her head closer to mine.

Her lips must have a healing power because I feel a part of myself that’s been hollow fill while another part snaps. She breaks and fixes me all at once, and by the time she pulls away from my lips, it’s her who’s holding me up.

She stares at me, her eyes glassy like she’s feeling everything I am, and when she looks across the room, I read her mind.

I take her hand and lead her back to our table before telling her I’m getting us a drink. Two cups of punch later, I return, finding her staring at something in the corner of the room.

I set her cup in front of her then follow her gaze. It’s a couple posing together in front of a backdrop while an artist does a fast, cheesy sketch of them. There’s a sign that reads, “Portraits $20.”

“You could do that,” I say, taking my seat.

Olive turns back to me with a bitter laugh. “Right.” She picks up her punch and takes a sip, her eyes trained on the red liquid.

“Why not?”

When she looks at me, her face reddens. “My art is just a hobby.”

My art is just a hobby.

That’s the second time I’ve heard her say that and the second time I’m not convinced.

I shrug. “Okay.”

“I don’t think I’m that good anyway.” She looks over at the corner again. “And definitely not that fast.”

“What did you tell me yesterday? You learn from practice?”

She looks at me and huffs. “Well, I’m not gonna charge people twenty bucks for a shit drawing they wouldn’t even want.”

“Who says you have to charge people anything?”

She takes another sip of her drink and doesn’t respond. She looks like she’s fighting some internal battle, letting her insecurities wield their swords.

“Olive.”

After a beat and a heavy breath, she looks up at me.

“You’regood.”

“It’s just a?—”

“Hobby. You mentioned that.” I smile, trying to be encouraging while hoping I’m not pushing it.

She looks down at the table and chews on her lip. I want so badly to take it from between her teeth, but I don’t move. I just wait.

“It’s just weird to even think about,” she says, too quietly. I lean forward, straining to hear. “I’m embarrassed to even say this…”

Embarrassed. How she could ever be embarrassed around me is a mystery. If she knew what I thought when I looked at her… The perfection I see…

---