Page 49 of Olivia's Only Pretending
A smile flickered across his face, but something in his eyes dimmed. He looked disappointed at my response, like maybe he’d hoped I might say something different. “It’s settled then.You owe me.I’ll get you the info.”
There was a beat of silence between us. It felt unusually awkward, heavy with things unsaid.
“I’m going to head out,” Victor finally said, patting the couch cushion before he stood up. “I have an early morning tomorrow.”
“Oh, okay.” My feet hit the ground as he got up. I felt like I’d accidentally popped whatever cozy bubble we’d been in.
“Don’t forget, you’re due for Midol in a couple hours,” he said as he walked over toward his sneakers.
I wanted to tease him for playing Dr. Victor, like I’d been doing all day, but his eyes were still downcast.
I stood up and walked over toward him.
“Go sit back down. You’re supposed to be resting,” he said, finishing slipping his shoes on.
“I’m okay to walk a few steps, Victor.” I’d been feeling much better this evening anyway, in no small part thanks to him. I stood in front of him. I wanted to chase the disappointment I’d seen in his eyes away. “Thank you for coming over.”
His eyes creased, a small half smile. “It was selfish. I like hanging out with you.”
I shook my head. “You don’t see how kind you are.” I pointed toward the table in the dining room, still covered in his shopping trip finds. “That’s not selfish.”
He dragged a hand through his hair. He sighed. I was still saying the wrong thing.
“I didn’t do all of that because I’m such a nice friend,” he said, his voice low. “I care about you.”
“But youarethe closest friend I’ve ever had. Don’t you see, your friendship …” I put a hand to my chest, over my heart, where I felt that tug, that pull.
He nodded slowly, taking a step back. “Your friendship means a lot to me, too.” His disappointment was thick in the air like humidity.
Frustration that I wasn’t getting my point across—how much he meant to me—was sharp under my skin.
I grabbed his shoulders tight, fabric curling up my fingers. “You don’t get it,” I said forcefully.
His eyes widened.
“You mean …” I tried to find the words. My breathing was heavy at the proximity.
Victor’s eyes dropped to my lips. He licked his.
My heart was a fire alarm in my chest.
“I don’t get it?” he asked, breathless.
I shook my head. I couldn’t even remember why I’d chased him down and grabbed his shoulders. I just knew that I wanted him closer. Our charade had broken that physical barrier, and I couldn’t get it back up.
Couldn’t get how good it felt to be close—lip to lip—out of my head.
My hands clutched his broad shoulders. His eyes searched mine. Our breath hitched between us.
Then I pulled him to me, feeling reckless, desperate, and our mouths collided.
He immediately responded, arms sliding around my waist, pulling me against him until I was up on my toes. I slid my hands over his shoulders, his neck, fingers tangling in his hair.
“Olivia,” he rasped, like he’d been waiting for this.
The sound flooded my body with goose bumps.
A push and pull between us, we moved together until we hit the doorframe between my living room and dining room.
