Page 39 of The Incredible Kindness of Paper
“What?” she whispered, still aflame under his gaze.
“Buy that one. You’re… It’s perfect.”
And then he looked away and chugged the rest of the champagne.
She charged the cerulean silk dress to her own credit card; it cost as much as Chloe made in a month, when she had a job.
But she couldn’t bill it to Zac, not when she’d been here with Tolly and picked the dress for him.
Oliver
That evening, Oliver threw himself into his hardest jiu jitsu conditioning workout. He had to find a way to stop thinking about Chloe at Bergdorf Goodman—about the way the blue silk of that gown skimmed her body, how it rustled against her skin when she spun in place, how much he wanted to run his hands over the liquid fabric and trace every inch of her beneath it.
Pull-ups. Rope climb. Plate flips.
Bench press. Hammer lift. Dead lift.
Squats. Kettlebell. Power cleans.
These exercises required concentration on form so that he maximized efficiency and didn’t injure himself. They would also burn up Oliver’s physical reserves so that maybe he’d be depleted enough to stop fantasizing about the things he wanted to do with a woman who wasn’t his to have, and never could be.
If the workout wasn’t sufficient, though, he’d go to the studio and hit the mats. A good sparring session would set his head straight.
Except that sparring in jiu jitsu was often like wrestling, and then Oliver’s mind went to what it would be like if his body was entwined with Chloe’s, and…
He sighed. He was doomed.
Dear Oliver,
I know a lot of people think that Valentine’s Day is a purely capitalist holiday made to benefit greeting card companies and florists and chocolate makers. But I think it’s more. It’s a chance for people to show their love.
Like, if they’ve been in a relationship for a long time and they’re happy in the safe, steady rhythm of their lives, Valentine’s gives them an opportunity to do a little something different and special—a touch, a favorite box of candy, a pause in the rush of life to have dinner together and say,YOU. You are important to me.
Or maybe it’s love that’s been hiding. A new crush—or a long one—and they’ve been afraid to say it. Because putting yourself out there is scary. You could be laughed at. You could be pitied. You could be ignored. There are a thousand ways to be rejected. So isn’t it better to shield your heart and not say anything at all?
I love you, Oliver. I have for a few years now, but I never wanted to tell you, because what if you didn’t love me back—notthatway—and I ruined everything? You’re my best friend and I could be content with just that for the rest of my life. But my heart is a greedy thing, and I want more.
So I’m gathering my courage right now. We’ll see how brave I can be.
(Fourth draft of a Valentine’s candy gram.)
Oliver
Sixteen years ago
By the time they were in high school, the other kids had gotten used to Chloe’s exuberance and penchant for making her own very colorful clothes. She was so well liked, in fact, that she was on the student council, and she’d set a record for Valentine’s candy gram sales through her dedication and charm at the card table set up next to the cafeteria. Two days before Valentine’s, Oliver was at her house, in her bedroom, helping with final assembly of the candy grams.
“Remind me, how did I get roped into this?” Oliver said, as he opened up yet another glassine bag and dropped in two red Hershey’s kisses, two silver ones, a packet of heart-shaped strawberry gummies, and a fifty-percent-off coupon for a scoop of Cupid’s Arrow ice cream from her parent’s shop. (Chloe and Oliver had come up with the flavor—it was raspberry with a marshmallow swirl and dark chocolate chunks.)
“Because you love me,” Chloe said with a nonchalant shrug, her charm bracelet jingling against her wrist.
But there was something about the way she said it. A soft tremble in her voice, a subtle undercurrent of uncertainty that no one else would have caught. Except him.
Could it be?
Oliver suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. His chest tightened and his heart pounded, and he was drowning, but in a paradoxically good way. Everything he had taken for granted before—up, down, air, friendship—was being rewritten.
He’d loved Chloe from the very first letter he ever received from her and had steadily tumbled heels over head deeper and deeper into that love,year by year. But he hadn’t known if she’d felt the same way. If they were best friends, or if they could be something more.
