Page 32 of Time To Live Again

He huffs. “You and your long-hair obsession. And—wait a second. Olive! Your smile! I can see your teeth and it’s reaching your ears. It’s amazing how happy you look. Now tell meeverything. Leave nothing out. Does he have a sister?”

For the next half hour, I share all the juicy details.

“How did that all happen since yesterday? It sounds like you’ve been there for days.”

“I know, right? Anyway, I haven’t danced like that since LA. It’s like I let out all my frustrations on the dance floor.”

“It sounds like it.”

I tell him what Tonya said in the bathroom. “If he wants to tell me about his past, then I’ll listen. It’s not like I’m going to dump all my baggage on him.”

“Don’t tell him too much about your issues. You need to stay hisfake frienduntil next soccer season.”

“That ended when he left my room. Sam and his wife were really cool to hang out with. But get this. They said you and I should go to one of Sam’s home games with Leo.”

“Fuck yes. Work it, girl. But all jokes aside, are you going to see Leo again?”

“I really hope so.” I huff. “What am I saying? I could see him today and he could act like a different person. That would be mortifying.”

I pull my legs up to my chest and rest my chin on my knees. My insecurities shoot to the surface again. Ugh! What if that happens?It won’t, Olive. It isn’t high school.He was too sweet when we said goodnight, and he sent me the pictures not long after he left. I can’t imagine him acting like it meant nothing; there was too much electricity sparking between us for that to happen.

“Worry about it when you see him next. Promise me you’ll keep an open mind. I know how easily you shut down and hide from people. Now’s not the time.”

“I promise I’ll try.”

“No matter what, I’m proud of you. Living it up with a celebrity on the first night already.”

“Whatever. I’m glad I didn’t get drunk. Oh, and it’s total bullshit what Mom and Dad said about this island. So far, everything I’ve seen is beautiful. Not that I’ve seen much. They don’t know what the hell they’re talking about.”

“Send me some pictures,” he says through a yawn.

I sink further under the covers. “Will do.”

“Anyway, I have to show my face downstairs since I’m the birthday boy. Maybe I’ll get a toy truck this year.”

Gotta love him. “You’re crazy. Sorry I’m not there to celebrate or to give you a present.”

“I’m not. You’re doing exactly what you needed to do, and that’s enough. Hanging out with me wouldn’t help you. Anyway, go have fun. Don’t forget to drop Mom a message.”

“I don’t want to,” I grumble.

“You have to. Keep taking the new year by the balls. And don’t send Mom the picture of you with a bunch of strangers. She’ll have a heart attack. I don’t have the energy to deal with that shit right now.”

I wish him a happy birthday again before we hang up, then I write Mom a quick message. Before she responds, I lay my phone on the nightstand and force myself out of bed. Time to get this day started.

* * *

Where’s the ibuprofen when you need it? My legs were already killing mebeforeI tortured myself on the exercise bike for twenty minutes. What was I thinking? Stupid resolutions.

Now I’m sitting in my underwear in the empty locker room, an oversized towel wrapped around me, trying to find the courage to go into the sauna. What if there are people in there from the party? What if I can’t handle the heat and steam?

I am naturally a bashful person, and my self-confidence has plummeted since leaving LA. I’m overweight with an hourglass figure—if a man likes big butts, I’m his gal. Despite Leo making me feel like the most desirable woman last night, sitting around in a towel with other people has the opposite effect. It doesn’t help that the sauna is co-ed, and some people go naked. Or is that only true outside the US? I don’t know. The thought alone makes me want to chicken out.

But I won’t. It’s now or never.

I resecure my towel over my chest and dangle the locker key band from my wrist. I make my way out of the locker room and head to the sauna. As I approach, someone leaves. Before the door closes, I peek inside and spot one other person. Okay, I can do this. Just open the door and find a seat as quickly as possible without looking at them.

Here I go. I’m vaguely aware of the other person as I drag myself to the far corner. I cast my eyes down and breathe through the steamy heat. Immediately, I cough in the thick, humid air. Yeah, I won’t last long in here.

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