Page 39 of Lotus

“Oh, um, I mean…” Holy hell, I feel like a blushing schoolgirl in the middle of Sex Ed class. I clear my throat. “Sure. I guess.”

His eyes are ablaze as they sink into me, coasting over my curves, and he answers easily, “Sometimes I think of you.”

It takes an astounding amount of effort to keep from blacking out. I feel my mouth go dry as a ridiculous squeaky noise passes through my lips. Oliver’s head is still cocked while he studies my reaction, and there is not an ounce of shame or embarrassment radiating from him. He’s completely nonchalant, as if his response didn’t just freeze my ass to the sofa cushion and suck the air from my lungs.

“Is that okay?” he wonders, his frown deepening. He’s inquisitive—possibly a little worried he’s upset me.

Collecting my bearings, I blow out a breath. “Yeah. That’s… okay.”

Oliver smiles.Relief.“What do you think about?”

Only sarcasm can save me now, so I stare right at him and deadpan, “Danny DeVito.”

“Oh.” His smile falls as he looks down between his knees. “I’m sure he’s nice.”

As I start flying through all the files in my head I’ve titled,New Conversation Starters to Save Me from An Awkward Hell,fireworks crack to life outside the window. We both jump, startled.

I lift myself to my knees, peering through the pane of glass above the loveseat. There’s a miniature display right by the house, lighting up the sky, and I’m grinning like a little kid—I love fireworks. “Oliver, check it out—” My words are cut short when I turn just in time to see Oliver rise from the couch and hurry from the den, his feet pounding each stairstep in time with the worried beats of my heart.

That was weird. Maybe he’s going to grab a drink or something.

I stare out the window a few minutes longer, realization surfacing that he’s not coming back.

Shit.

Did the fireworks spook him?

Leaping off the couch, I run up the stairs and begin scouring the crowd for any sign of Oliver. Unfortunately, the only thing worth noting is Gabe macking on some random brunette on the living room couch. She is definitely not my sister.

Asshole!

I make a mental note to slug him later.

Deciding he must be in his bedroom, I make my way down the hall and tap my knuckles against the wood frame. “Oliver?”

No answer.

Two more knocks follow before I twist the knob, relieved to discover the door is unlocked. With my concern for Oliver’s wellbeing overriding my concern for his privacy, I enter inside, scanning the bedroom. When I don’t spot him after a solid onceover, I almost retreat, wondering if he went outside… but something pulls my attention to the left, my sights settling on the cracked closet door. Heart skipping, nerves dancing, I pace over to the closet and pull open the oak door with a sharp intake of air.

He’s huddled up inside the dark, enclosed space, his head buried in his hands as he rocks forward and back.

Oh, God.

I rush to him. I don’t think, I just run, collapsing to my knees before him and pushing my way between his legs until we’re face-to-face. “Oliver. Talk to me.” My tone is hushed and encouraging, my fingers trailing up the front of his chest until they curl around his neck. When he finally raises his eyes to me, my heart cracks into a thousand tiny fragments.

He’s petrified. He’s breaking.

He’s someplace else.

“Hey, hey…” My hands travel higher until I’m cupping his jaw, keeping his gaze fixed on mine, refusing to let it slip. “Oliver, you’re safe. Ipromiseyou’re safe. You know that, right?”

Oliver stares at me with red-rimmed eyes, his skin blanched and layered in a light gloss of sweat. He nods mutely with a hard swallow, and I can feel his entire body shivering.

His own hands lift, clasping onto my wrists as I stroke my thumbs along his cheekbones. “I never want to go back there.”

I shake my head, adamantly. “You won’t. It’s over, and you survived. Do you trust me?”

Another slow nod. “You’re the only one I trust.”

---