Page 60 of Olivia's Only Pretending
I shook my head disapprovingly, crossing my legs. The lights dimmed. I could see Dr. Hadaway walking toward the podium. “It’s starting,” I murmured.
Dr. Hadaway introduced herself, but I couldn’t hear a thing she said after that. Victor and I, without any planning or acting, both scooted closer toward one another over the shared armrest. His body heat mingled with mine in a reassuring, disarming way.
My heart pounded loudly in my ears.
I remembered how my sisters and I would spot a happy older couple, or a couple chasing their kids at the park, and we would swoon over the natural way those couples moved throughout the world together: hands reaching for hands reflexively; shoulders playfully, instinctively bumping into one another; eyes catching across dinner tables and crowded rooms; a hand brushing a loose strand out of an eye; a hand sweeping across a shoulder as the other walked by. It was that simple but rhythmic way two people would lean into each other. Two halves never quite close enough, always reaching, always leaning, to get a little closer.
No measly armrest was enough to keep them apart.
I swallowed, my mouth dry. The crowd was laughing at something. Victor chuckled, and his eyes snagged on my gaze. He searched my eyes. I pretended to laugh, but his eyes narrowed, noting it was fake.
I looked ahead at the stage.
I was on high alert, so I noticed when Victor’s left hand reached for my right hand resting between us, hovering for a moment with our skin barely grazing. Then, as if he realized what he was doing, he quickly snatched it back to himself.
He scratched at his chin. I tried not to think about how that chin felt against my own skin—a diabolically perfect amount of stubble.
Colleagues around me were nodding to the lecture, taking notes, and murmuring thoughts to people beside them. I was thinking about Victor’s shaving habits and wondering if I could come up with a good enough reason to break our new no-contact rule.
Victor leaned down and pulled a pen out of my tote. I chuckled inwardly that he knew me and my routines so well that he could casually reach into my pen pocket without looking.
He wrote a note on the back of a bulletin we were handed when we walked in and slipped it into my hand.
You okay?
He’d written in thick, blunt handwriting.
I glanced up at him. His eyes were full of care as they rested on me attentively. I nodded.
He grabbed the sheet again and wrote furiously before setting it on my lap.
I’m sorry I showed up unannounced. I got excited. I think I have too much fun being your boyfriend.
I turned my head and shook my head at him, reaching across his chest to steal the pen.
I wrote,
I’m not upset. I like that you’re here.
He wrote back,
Is it because of…?
He nodded his head toward Ryan.
I bit my lip. I wasn’t too bothered by Ryan’s presence. I’d gotten fully distracted by Victor’s presence.
I think I’m tired!
I wrote a measly excuse.
Your hot young buck keeping you up too late?
Victor wrote in big, thick letters with a winky face.
This made me snort again. I covered my mouth. When suddenly, a shrill beep started ringing across the auditorium. In a matter of seconds, the audience was scrambling, and the lights were back on. People raced for exits—no one following the fire alarm protocol we’d practiced during drills or training as staff.
Victor and I jumped up, turning toward the aisle to exit our row. He reached his hand for mine, pulling me behind him. I bumped into Ryan, who was trying to race past us, causing me to drop my armload of things.
