Page 42 of Fallen Stars

Relief washes over me at his question.

“I am.” A blinding smile lifts the corners of Oliver’s lips. “You’ve seen us play?”

“A couple times. Love the sound. Like old school and alternative with a twist.”

Oliver reaches up and grabs the back of his neck. It’s not a nervous habit of his I’ve seen. But maybe it’s equivalent to my hand in my pocket.

He wants to touch me and can’t. Not here.

“That’s the vibe we’re going for.” He nods, then turns his attention toward me. “I need to get back.” He gestures over his shoulder with a pointed thumb. “We go on soon. But I wanted to find you and say hi. Maybe we can hang after?”

IfeelAbigail’s eyes on us.Hearher unspoken questions lingering in the air. I do my best to ignore it and focus on Oliver.

“Sounds good.”

Unexpectedly, Oliver closes the distance between us, wraps his arms around me, and slaps my back once. A hug most would see as friendly. But I don’t miss the extra squeeze at the end before he releases me.

“Cool.” Turning to Abigail and Desmond, he gives a brief wave. “Was nice meeting you. Enjoy the show.” And then he jogs off.

Desmond releases Abigail, cups her cheeks, and kisses her as if no one is watching. It’s uncomfortable to witness and ends quickly. Thank goodness. He rests his forehead on hers. “I should go too. Shift starts in an hour.”

Giving them privacy, I walk to the pretzel cart nearby and order two pretzels and lemonades. As I’m handed the order, Abigail approaches the cart. I hand her a drink and pretzel then grab us napkins.

“Thanks,” she whispers, her sunny disposition gone.

We wander over to a cluster of shaded picnic tables and sit across from each other. Several minutes pass in silence as we pick at our pretzels and get lost in our own thoughts. As I pop a piece of pretzel in my mouth, she speaks up.

“So, Ollie…” She stares down at the table. “He’s your boyfriend?”

I clutch my throat as the bite of pretzel gets lodged and cuts off my airway. Repeatedly, I smack my chest. Fire flames my face as sweat coats my skin.

Abigail bolts from her seat. “Oh god.” A second later, she hits my back. Hard. “Shit.”Thwack.

Someone at a nearby table comes over, my face hot with embarrassment and lack of oxygen. Arms band around my chest, fists situate beneath my ribs, then there’s a forceful thrust up. In one go, the bite dislodges and I gasp for air.

“Slow and steady,” the man coaches.

Once I catch my breath, I guzzle half my drink and thank the man. Soon, the chaos and excitement at the tables dies down. I do my best to ignore what prompted my near-death experience in the first place. Abigail’s question.

But of course, she isn’t having it.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

I don’t answer.

“No one knows, I assume.”

Still, I remain tight-lipped.

She reaches forward and sets a hand near me on the table. “I won’t say anything.” A softness fills her expression, something akin to sympathy. “Promise.”

My molars gnash together. “Can we talk about something else? Anything else?”

“Sure. Sorry.” She winces, then lifts her hand from the table and holds it between us. “Let’s agree now. Friends, and nothing more.”

Personally, I want to throw this whole situation in the trash. Forget I ever brought it up. But Abigail is a nice person. Her boyfriend is a great guy. They deserve happiness. As do I. We need to make this work for a little longer. Until I wrap up this case at work and have time to sort out my personal life.

I can do this. Be friends with Abigail.

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