Page 52 of Mr. Wrong Number

Olivia

“I cannot believe what I’m hearing.”

“I know,” I said, carrying two glasses of prosecco over to the table. Sara was unboxing our food—fried ravioli and a loaf of focaccia from Caniglia’s—and staring at me as if I’d grown a second head. I gave her a sheepish grin and murmured, “I can’t quite believe it myself.”

She’d called last night, right after the kiss and smack-dab in the middle of my mental freak-out, to see if I wanted to grab food and catch up sometime. I said something desperate like “can we tomorrow, please?” and thankfully, she was down for a quick happy hour. I hadn’t planned on telling her about the kiss, but the minute she’d walked into the condo and asked how I was, I’d blurted out the whole thing over our first bottle of wine.

“So, um,” she said, looking like she wanted to laugh as sheopened the carton of ravioli that the delivery driver had just dropped off, “does this mean there’s something brewing between you and Mr. Beck?”

I sat down and picked up a ravioli. “No, no, no, I was excited so I hugged—”

“Stop.” She shook her head and snagged a few ravioli for herself. “In no normal situation does a friendly hug end in dry humping against a doorframe. Try again.”

That made me snort. “It was way sexier than dry humping, Sara.”

She coughed out a laugh and said, “For real, though—you know I’m right. There has to be something crackling if you were both sober and a yay-I-got-the-apartment hug turned into foreplay.”

“Okay.” I dropped the ravioli back onto the plate—it smelled weird—and reached for my wine instead. I said, “I suppose there’s... anawarenessbetween us all of a sudden. Sexual chemistry, I guess. But I also know that he doesn’t really like me.”

Her eyebrows went down. “What?”

“I mean, I guess helikesme now,” I said, taking a sip and picturing his heavy-lidded gaze from the night before, “but that doesn’t mean he respects me. He just sees me as a shitshow dipshit.”

Sara took a bite of one of the breaded appetizers and just looked at me while she chewed.

“I’m dreading seeing him, to be honest.” I ran my finger along the stem of the wineglass. “He’s probably beating himself up for doing something so stupid.”

“You haven’t seen him since the kiss?”

I shook my head, a little embarrassed by the fact that I’d spent extra time on hair and makeup that morning, just in case I saw Colin. “When I got up this morning, he was already gone.”

As if on cue, the sound of a key in the lock came from the entryway, and my stomach went wild with butterflies. I felt a little light-headed and took a deep breath, trying to look cool and casual.

Sara smirked, raised her glass, and gave me a tiny nod of support. “Cool and casual. You’ve got this.”

The door opened, and Colin walked in.

Dear God.

Did the man ever look less than perfect?

I allowed myself one second to do a lustful inventory—blue eyes, stylish suit, wide chest, broad shoulders, Adam’s apple—before turning my attention to the focaccia on the table. I leaned forward and unwrapped the loaf as I said to Sara, “I can’t believe they still have this bread.”

I felt it in my peripheral vision when he looked over at us. Noticed us.

“They told me when I called in the order that my timing was good, because apparently they sell out in fifteen minutes or less every single day.” Sara set down her wineglass and—bless her—smiled like we were having the greatest time. “Is it really that good?”

I pulled off a hunk and set it on my plate before pushing the rest of the loaf toward her. “Oh, yeah.”

“Hey.” Colin set his messenger bag on the table next to the door, walked into the kitchen, and gave me a weird look. Hiseyes moved all over my face and I wondered if he’d been expecting a reaction over the kiss or something, because he looked like he was trying to find answers to a thousand questions.

“Hey,” I said, glancing at Sara and trying not to grin as she gave me a discreet look. “This is Sara, by the way. Sara, this is my brother’s roommate, Colin.”

Colin’s mouth curled into a warm, friendly smile that made my stomach feel light and he reached out and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you. Although...”

Sara tilted her head and smiled.

“Didn’t we go to the same high school?” Colin let go of her hand and put his in his pockets. “You look really familiar.”

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