Page 60 of Lotus

The relief is evident when Oliver pulls the door open further, his features relaxing. A smile follows, lighting up his handsome face. “Sydney.”

He says my name with such warmth, such affection, I can’t help but flash back to the words Gabe hurled at me over Mexican food:

You have all the power.

A gulp sticks to the back of my throat. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

His smile remains, steadfast and sweet.

Dammit.

I waste no more time and push through the threshold, almost knocking Oliver off his feet when I throw my arms around his neck and bury my cheek against his hard chest. The words tumble out before I can stop them. “I missed you.”

Oliver’s arms find their way around my waist, uncertain at first, careful and delicate. But then his grip tightens, pulling me close, closer than he probably should. His breath beats against the top of my head, tickling my scalp and heating my skin.

His right hand travels up my spine in a way that’s too familiar. I think about how it felt when he gripped the back of my neck, my hair braiding between the cracks in his fingers, his mouth hot and demanding on mine.

Down, girl.

“You missed me?” he wonders into the disheveled wisps of my messy bun.

I nod into his chest. “Yes.”

“But…” Oliver falters, debating his choice of words. Then he finishes, “It’s been… one week.”

A pause.

A temporary silence.

Absorbing, absorbing…

My laughter hits me like a slug to the gut when his joke registers. I collapse further into him, my body shaking with mirth, my feet barely holding my weight. This only causes Oliver’s arms to clutch me tighter, his own amusement mingling with mine.

“Holy shit, Oliver. Did you justBarenaked Ladiesme?”

“It appears so.”

Chin to his chest, my head lifts up to find his eyes, and they are dancing with humor.

One week.

One week without his closeness, his quirks, his charm, his beautiful soul radiating into me, and it felt like a part of me had withered away.

I have no idea how I survived twenty-two years.

Oliver’s foot slams on the brake, and I lurch forward so hard, my forehead almost collides with the dashboard.

“Oliver!”

“There was a tiny mammal.”

When my breath dislodges from my throat, I glance out the windshield and spot a squirrel scampering up a neighbor’s tree. “It was just a squirrel. Squirrels are suicidal.”

“Beg your pardon?”

Smoothing my hair back, I urge my heart to slow down. “It’s fine… you don’t need to brake so hard. Go easy on the pedal.”

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