Page 70 of Tilly in Technicolor
My body is buzzing with energy, my mind whipping around like a puppy chasing its own tail. I can’t stay still any longer. I can’t.
“Welp,” I say, pulling back the covers. “Probably should get some sleep. Early worm eats birds and all that.”
“Right,” Ollie says, following my lead.
We both sit on our edges of the mattress, then awkwardly swing our legs onto the bed. Half my body is hanging over the side, and I can honestly say I’ve never been so tense in my life.
Oliver coughs. “Good night,” he says, reaching out and turning off the light.
“Night,” I whisper, having a total internal panic as we’re plunged into darkness.
Oh my god, what do Ido? I can’t maintain this half-over-the-edge pose all night but like… what’s the alternative? Do we sleep on our backs? Like two… I don’t know, corpses? I sure as hell will not be sleeping butt to butt. Even the idea of my butt cheek touching Oliver’s butt cheek makes me do a full body cringe. Crap. Did he feel that? How could he not have, I just created a small earthquake across this ridiculously tiny mattress. We can’t lie on our same sides though because I don’t trust myself to not curl around him like a needy koala. I—
“Are you okay?”
“Hm?” I squeak out. Wow. Ariana Grande has nothing on these octaves I’m hitting.
“Are you okay?” Oliver repeats. “You seem a bit… fidgety.”
I swallow then clear my throat, feeling embarrassed. “Sorry. I’ll be still. I don’t mean to be so squirmy. But the second I think about being still, my body’s like, ‘Hey, watch me thrash around!’ and then my breathing seems all loud and then it’s like I forget how to breathe and I—”
“Tilly.” Oliver’s voice is soft. Deep. It hits straight to my heart, sending ripples through my chest like a stone into water. Then he turns and faces me. “I really don’t mind sleeping on the floor. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
And, shit. This is one of those moments. The type where someone says something not particularly special, but it guts you all the same. The clarity of the words. The gentleness they’re said with. All of it makes my heart skip a beat and my throat close up and tears prick at my eyes because it just feels like someone…cares.
Not someone.
Oliver.
Oliver cares… about me.
I clear my throat, deciding to be brave. “I think what makes me uncomfortable is how badly I want to touch you.”
Oliver is still.
Really still.
Like, as still as I wish I could have been two minutes ago so he wouldn’t have asked me what was wrong and I wouldn’t haveOPENED MY GIANT MOUTH AND SAID WHAT I JUST SAID.
“Okaygoodnightbye,” I say in a rush, throwing my entire body to the edge of the mattress and burying my head under my pillow. Maybe Ishouldgo sleep on the street.
I’m barely breathing, mortification swamping my body. Why whyWHYdid I say that? What did I think would happen? What was I—
There’s a tap on my back. I pretend I don’t feel it. Maybe he’ll think I fell asleep in the thirty grueling seconds since I last mortified myself.
Another tap. Oh God.
“Oliver,” I whisper. “Please,pleasedon’t make me acknowledge that I just spoke out loud.”
This time, it’s not a tap. Oliver gently lays his palm across my back. Okay, now I’m really not breathing. I feel him spread his fingers wider, brushing the edges of my shoulder blades.
“I—” Ollie clears his throat. “I want to touch you, too.”
My eyes shoot open. Excuse me,what?
A cool, calm version of me would let his words linger in the air. Say something delicate back. Maybe slowly roll over, letting his palm glide across my body as I turn to face him.
Instead, I whip around, crushing his hand under me and accidentally bringing my face two centimeters from his. “You do?” I say. It’s a whisper, but it feels like I might as well be shouting.
