Page 69 of Tilly in Technicolor
Oliver’s eyes slowly grow wider and wider like he can burn a hole through the comforter. Then he nods. “I guess we will.”
We both stand there awkwardly for another minute, not sure what to do next.
“I don’t have any pajamas,” I say, more to myself than him.
Oliver blinks twice, then nods, opening a dresser drawer and riffling through neat stacks of clothes. I kind of love that he’s unpacked his suitcase and found a home for every item despite us only being here for a few days.
“Maybe these will work?” he says, handing me a bundle. I let a pair of pajama bottoms and a large gray T-shirt unfurl in my hands. The fabric is soft, just the right amount of worn, and I can smell Oliver on them already. I don’t know why it makes my cheeks heat.
“Thanks,” I mumble, barreling past him to the bathroom and shutting the door behind me. I slip on his clothes. The drag of fabric over my skin makes me shiver, something about it feeling simultaneously foreign and like the nicest reminder of home.
What the fuck.
I look in the mirror, trying to have one of those movie moments where a great epiphany comes from staring at your own reflection. Maybe, if I look hard enough, I’ll be able to rid myself of this excruciatingly painful crush and get some sense that having a one-sided obsession with a boy I’ll be saying goodbye to in about a month isn’t a great idea.
Tragically, I get nothing but a slightly sweaty, red-faced girl with wild hair and her heart in her eyes.
Cool.
Love this for me.
There’s no way this won’t end badly.
Realizing the longer I hide out in the bathroom, the greater the chance he’ll think I’m pooping, I flick off the lights and step out.
Oliver’s put on a different set of pajamas, and he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone. He looks so… so… outrageously adorable. The swoop of his hair across his forehead, the slight curve to his back as he hunches over his phone, the earnestness with which he’s typing away on the screen, probably talking to someone about some wild use of the color mauve.
“Ollie, are you dating anyone?” I blurt out. Then slam my mouth shut so hard my teeth rattle.
His head whips to look at me. “I beg your pardon?” he asks.
I let out a sigh. “I… uh… I wanted to know if you’re seeing anyone. Or like…you know. Because it probably wouldn’t be cool for me to sleep with you if you are.”
Oliver stares at me for a moment, and I watch as his eyes go comically, alarming wide. “No!” he shouts at me, waving his hands and standing up. “I mean, I’m not. But this is not…” He gestures wildly between us then points at the bed, shaking his head.
Wow. Cool.
“I know that,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “There’s no reason to act so horrified at the idea.”
“I’m not horrified,” Oliver says, sounding horrified. “I’m… I’m…” He lets out a deep breath, his shoulders slumping. “That caught me off guard. I think what I’m trying to say is, I’m not romantically involved with anyone. I wouldn’t share abed with you if I was. But, like, I didn’t want you to think I was assuming… What made you ask that?”
I shrug. “I just wanted to check. I don’t want to be disrespectful to anyone out there that might be… special to you.”
Oliver continues to stare at me, the silence pressing against my chest, pulling more words out of me.
“And I saw the condoms Cubby got you. Obviously,” I say, my pulse hammering in my throat as the word vomit continues to spew out of me. “So I kind of assumed—”
“Cubby bought those as a joke,” Oliver says, rubbing his eyes, his cheeks turning pink. “Some really odd, perverted sibling joke. I’m not currently… um… using them.”
I nod, pressing my lips against my teeth to hide the elated smile that wants to stretch across my face.
Oliver isn’t seeing anyone. He’s not having sex with anyone. This doesn’t change that my obnoxious-as-hell yearning is totally one-sided, but it does loosen the tight knot that forms in my gut at the idea of him with someone else.
“Cool,” I say at last, nodding as I walk to the opposite side of the bed.
“Cool,” Ollie repeats.
We stand in some weird stalemate on our sides of the bed, waiting for the other to make the first move.
