Page 93 of Olivia's Only Pretending
The crush was evident in the way his eyes lingered, the little gifts, the blurriness around the edges of our friendship. Maybe it was another safer label I taped up.
Victor’s eyes would find me across a room, eyes soft on me, and I would think,It’s just a crush.
Victor would switch my light bulbs and tinker with my leaky faucet, and my sisters would shake their heads when I told them, and I would say,Fine, maybe he has a little crush. But we’re just friends.
I would wake up in the morning, my first thought would be about him and his stormy, dark eyes, and I would tell myself,It’s okay, you just have a little crush, too.
“Crush?” He laughed, running a hand down his face. “It was always so much more than a crush. There’s no comparison. Crush was watering it down to make it easier to swallow. Nothing about how I feel about you, from the moment I saw you, has been small.”
My heart was beating out of my chest. My hands wanted to grab hold of him, pull him against me, but I needed to finally, finally, finally get this all out in the open. To tell him exactly what I wanted.
“I see that now,” I said. “Maybe I was afraid to see it before, but I do now. I see what’s between us—what’salwaysbeen there.”
He grabbed my wrists, drawing me closer until our lips were a breath apart. “Do you feel it now, too?” he asked in a low murmur.
I nodded, looking up into his eyes. His gaze pinned on mine.
“Oh, I feel it. How I feel about you—how badly I want this—has lodged itself in my head.” I laced my fingers through his. “I think, even though I was in denial, I felt it all along, too.”
“I don’t care how long it took you to get here,” he said, pressing his forehead to mine.
The night was cold, but my body was radiating with warmth, his heat.
“As long as you’re here now.”
“I’m here now.” I could smell his spicy cologne mingling with the scent of crisp leaves swirling around us. “I’m terrified and giddy and crazy about you—andfinallyhere.”
“I want to try this thing for real.” His voice was a rasp I felt all the way down to my toes. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want to try this for real, too,” I said, light, breathless.
“You whispered that.” He dragged my wrists around his neck, lacing them over his shoulder.
I could grab his hair if I wanted.
“Say it again.”
My heart thundered in my chest. “I want to try this for real,” I said louder.
He growled in response, warm in my ear. He kissed my neck, leaving a trail of kisses up to my lips.
My stomach somersaulted.
He kissed me hard like a wave crashing to shore, intent on pulling me under with him. I was lost in him.
My fingers dragged through his hair down his neck, his hands on my hips pressing me flat against him, like I couldn’t be close enough.
I’d finally let my feelings free, saying exactly what I wanted aloud, unraveling the tight stitches I’d sewn over my vulnerabilities and needs long ago with each word.
I ran my hands down the backs of his arms, feeling the muscles I used to watch him flex while he built things in my backyard under my hands.
“Pauses.” He kissed under my ear, goose bumps everywhere. “Are.” He kissed my jawline. “Stupid.” He found my mouth again.
Twenty-Nine
Victor
I think I’m getting worse at saying goodbye to you
