Page 40 of Olivia's Only Pretending
“Well, you know my mom. She handed me a knife to carve when I was, like, two. She was too busy chasing my siblings. I’m an old pro.” He stood up from his seat.
I imagined Victor with his five siblings, as one of the youngest, wielding a knife as a toddler.
“Victor, please tell me you’re kidding. I love your mom, but—” I realized he’d pulled up a stool behind me. “Why are you over here?”
He scooted his stool right up against me, sliding his arms around me to grab the knife, then set it in my hand and kept his hand on top of mine. “I want to show you my perfect carving technique,” he said so close to my ear.
Goose bumps trailed down my arms, my shoulders.
“Want me to move?” He turned his head a little, his breath hitting right below my ear.
I shook my head. I preferred trying things for the first time on my own. I’d never been a fan of hands-on teaching. Group projects irritated me. Give me thick books to read over an interactive lesson.
But Victor always had a way around my defenses. With him, I never felt prickly about his help. He was my hands-on exception.
I leaned against his chest, feeling his warmth and breathing in that familiar mix of sawdust and that musky cologne.
“See, the key is to cut the top out at an angle,” Victor said, his words a rumble against my back, as we pushed the knife into the soft pumpkin, cutting a circle at the top around the stem. “So, the top doesn’t drop when we set it back on.”
I hummed in agreement.
“Now here’s the messy part,” he warned.
I turned my head to him, my eyelashes against his rough jawline. “What’s the messy part?”
He leaned forward, guiding my hands into the pumpkin. “We’ve got to clean the pumpkin out, so our candle has somewhere to go.”
Together, we scooped up a handful of soggy pumpkin seeds.
A giggle escaped me. “I appreciate how you’re walking me through this experience.”
We wiped our hands off with a paper towel, then got back to work. Now, it was time to carve.
Victor’s eyes narrowed, serious as we sliced into my little Sharpie drawings. “First, we make the rough, big cuts,” he said, warm against my ear. “We can come back and clean the edges later.”
His chest was solid behind me—strong from carving things from lumber and wielding hammers—but I couldn’t take my eyes off how he took our silly jack o’lantern just as seriously as his carpentry work.
Victor was playful and easygoing, but he had the things he handled with precision and a humble intensity—the things he took seriously. Like the things he made with his hands.
I’d seen that intent focus before, how he’d mindlessly lick his lips and narrow his eyes as he sanded down a plank of wood or wrapped a present for his brother’s birthday, smoothing down the tape with the same focus he gave his sliding saw.
If it was under his care—be it carving a jack o’lantern or fortifying a wall—he did it with his whole heart.
His chin brushed against my forehead as he moved. “Here we go,” he murmured, guiding our hands together to angle the cut.
I wasn’t watching our hands. I was watching him—how he bit his lip in concentration.Why did Victor’s lips have such an effect on my stomach?
I felt eyes on me. I glanced across the tables to find Gabby. She sat across the table, surrounded by students and some very messy pumpkins. She arched an eyebrow like she knew exactly what I was thinking.
Last time she’d seen me, I was wearing his jacket. Now here I was, enveloped in his arms and gazing at his mouth.
Victor didn’t notice. He announced we were done, pulling his hands from mine. I felt like I was being jolted awake from a sleepy stupor—a Victor stupor.
I blinked a few times at our pumpkin vampire. It was truly perfect.
“Victor, wow.” I picked it up to inspect it. “It’s adorable.” Each shape was cut precisely. My silly drawings came through adorably. The eyebrows were adorable. I spun it around to show Gabby across the way, who was still guffawing at us.
“Not fair. He’s a literal carpenter,” she said, shaking her head.
