Page 22 of Olivia's Only Pretending
I paused, catching eyes with Lucy in the reflection of the mirror.
“I worked hard to finally becomejust Olivia. To rebuild my identity at the school outside of him. And now, I’m afraid of what will be going through everyone’s heads tonight. What if Ryan’s presence reminds them how I was pathetically dumped? One day, we were together, popping in and out of each other’s offices, and then abruptly, it was just me alone in my office. Everyone would poke their head in with this pitying little look.”
I still remembered that look—the awkward shrug and downcast eyes. The bone-deep embarrassment I’d feel every time I saw it, wishing I could hide under my desk.
“No one will feel sorry for you, Olivia. That department knows—and has seen—what a strong, capable woman you are. They’ve had front row tickets to see how you’ve bloomed out of his shade,” Lucy said, then with a conspiratorial grin added, “Plus, you’re going to have a hot date on your arm. No one will feel bad foryou.”
I laughed despite my heart knotting up in my chest and trying to crawl out of my throat.
“I had my worries about letting everyone think Victor is your boyfriend, but I’m actually really glad he’s going with you tonight. I hope you can loosen up and forget Ryan’s even there. Your department is big—you might not even see him, you know?”
“Can I tell you?” I said, turning back to my mirror. “I’m a little nervous to see how Victor interacts with my colleagues. I’ve never seen the man in a serious setting, much less a dinner with the head of my department.”
Lucy chuckled. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”
I had a few ideas. “I could see this little plan of ours going awry. Maybe I feel sick and should stay home?” I stopped combing back my flyaways.
“You look too hot to stay in.” Lucy slid off the bed, coming over to stand behind me in front of the mirror. “But you do need big hoops with this hairdo.”
Lucy’s messy red hair was pouring out of her own claw clip. She started digging through my jewelry. I looked in the mirror, remembering how Ryan used to complain that I “never let my hair down.” He’d sometimes pull it out of its ponytail when we were out, without even asking me, no matter how many times I’d explained how I liked my hair out of my face while I worked.
And I like how it looked. Lucy and Gracie always said I had my Olivia Power Pony. It was an Olivia trademark.
I looked at my sleek auburn bun. Ryan would hate it. And I loved it, smiling in the mirror at my reflection and the sprinkling of freckles across my nose.
Victor had his hands on the doorframe when I opened the front door, leaning over me in his navy button-down and slacks.
“Well, hello.” I shook my head. He couldn’t just stand on my front porch in a normal way. The porch swing rocked in the breeze.
“Hello to you, too.” His eyes lit up as they tripped down my body in the silky black dress. As he brought his eyes back up to meet mine, my stomach fluttered.
That’s just the Victor effect, I reminded myself. The pitfalls of having such a charming and disarmingly attractive friend.
“How’re you feeling about tonight?” He stepped back, bringing his arms down to his sides, fixing his sleeves. Wavy dark hair tamed, he looked good—too good.
I hated how possessive it made me feel, how it made me anxious about all the other baristas that may be in his life that I didn’t know about.
“I’m feeling optimistic,” I said, turning to lock my front door. “How are you feeling?”
“Lucky, honestly,” he said, his voice soft around the edges.
I turned back to him, meeting his gaze.
“Look at you. And I get to be the one by your side all night.”
I felt my cheeks go pink. “Such a flirt.”
“No, no.” He shook his head. “Not flirting. Just being honest. I mean,come on,Olivia.” His eyes were wide on me.
I hopped down the front steps toward his truck. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”
A smile broke across his face, his eyes crinkling. “You think?”
I giggled. “Why do you make everythinga thing? Can’t I just say you look nice tonight?”
“Says the woman who branded me a flirt for saying she looked nice tonight.” Victor opened the truck door for me. “Why you gotta always make everything a thing, Liv?”
I shoved his shoulder before sliding into the front seat. His car smelled like him—sawdust, mint, and that spicy cologne of his.
