Page 97 of Waking Olivia

“You regret it,” she says, her voice hard.

“Olivia,” I sigh, pulling her to my chest. “It’s not that. I just need to figure this out.”

“Figure what out?”

“What happens next. I mean, it shouldn’t have happened. We both know that. I took advantage of—”

“No,” she snaps. “You didn’t. Did you hear me saying no? Probably not because I was too busy begging you to keep going. You didnottake advantage of me.”

“Even if you said yes, you’re in a vulnerable place right now and I was in a position—”

“Donotsay you were in a position of authority. We moved past that a long time ago. Are you really going to let the way it looks to everyone outside this room dictate whether or not this is wrong?”

Except it’s not everyone outside this room. It’s me. I didn’t do this after careful thought, after balancing my duty to her and the school with the things I want. No, I let my anger and my need obliterate every reasonable thought. I gave in to something I’ve exerted unholy restraint to avoid until now. And in doing so, I’ve put her scholarship at risk.

“I don’t know, Olivia. I can’t think. But I do know they’re going to notice we’ve been gone,” I sigh. “We should get back out there.”

“You want me to go back and continue my date with Evan?” she gasps. She snatches her dress off the floor and begins sliding it back on.

“No.Fuck. Olivia, your scholarship and my job are both on the line here. I just … I’ve got to figure this out, and until I do we both need to make it through the rest of the banquet as if nothing happened.”

“And then what? Are we leaving together? Am I going to see you?”

I look at her in that dress with that smudged lipstick just like I envisioned and I want—no,needto do it all over again. I want to take her back to my apartment and do a hundred different things to her.

“We can’t leave together, you know that. Peter is out there. Jessica is out there. Hell, Peter’s boss is out there. The most important thing either of us can do for the next hour is act like nothing is wrong.”

She slips her heels back on and moves to the door, her head high and her posture rigid.

“Olivia, wait—”

“Forwhat?” she demands. “You just fucked me on a table and now you’re sending me on my way. What more could you possibly need to add to that?”

I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. She’s so far from the truth, and yet I can totally see why she believes it. “Look, that’s not what is happening. But we did something unbelievably rash, and I want to make sure the steps we take next are determined by reason and not,” I gesture between the two of us, “this.”

I approach her and she steps back. I hate that. I know already, based on the wary look on her face as she watches me, that I’ve hurt her.

I pull her to me, but she remains rigid in my arms, uncertain. “I just need a little time to think, okay?” I ask.

“No,” she says, pushing away. “If this wasn’t enough to make up your mind, nothing is.”

She starts down the hall before I’ve even finished dressing. I call after her, but she never turns around.

By the time I get back to the auditorium, she and Evan are gone, which is both a relief and a worry. I excuse myself as soon as I can and head to my apartment, wondering how I’m going to tell Peter and my mom what I did, and how the hell I’m going to pay for Brendan’s last semester with no income other than a farm that’s still operating at a loss.

I could solve those issues by lying to everyone, but how will I live with myself if I do? How will I face Olivia every day knowing what I did, how I sacrificed her for my mom and the farm and the school all over again?

There’s a dull pounding in my head. I eventually lay down, hoping sleep will make the answer clear. But I just lay there, alternately appalled at myself for my bad decision-making and reliving it in my head, wanting it again so badly that I find my hips pressing into the mattress.

It’s nearly daylight when I give up on sleep, and decide to do the one thing that has ever successfully cleared my head.

I go climbing.

In spite of my rustiness, I choose a difficult climb, knowing I need something so consuming that it will obliterate all other thought. I scramble up the rock, hammering the first pin in, and scramble up again. Twisting and straining, moving quickly until my shirt is sticking to my back and sweat begins to drip into my eyes. I clip into the next bolt and pull my fleece off, throwing it to the ground before I keep going.

I’m halfway up the mountain face when a single thought occurs to me.

I wish Olivia were here.

---