Page 54 of The One I Need
No. No, no, no. I internally scold myself as I get up to finish getting ready. I have to keep repeating that Oliver isn’t the guy you have a fun vacation fling with. Oranykind of fling.
And I don’t want him to be. Despite my carefully constructed walls, Oliver is breaking them down daily. He’s become the friend I didn’t know I needed. I just have to remind myself that I can’t sleep with him. Or stare at him. Or get lost in the sound of his voice.
If I do all of that I’m fine.
“What time are we meeting Hazel and Knox?” I ask.
“Twenty minutes. Are you going to be ready?”
“Yes,” I say, though I’m not sure if I’m lying. “All I have to do is finish my makeup and get dressed.”
“The timer starts now.”
I laugh and shake my head as I carefully start applying my eyeliner. Somewhere today while Hazel and I were doing our things at the conference, Knox and Oliver were busy planning our night. First, dinner at a Michelin-rated steakhouse, followed by a night of gambling and dancing and, of course, checking out the fountains at the Bellagio.
Not wanting Oliver to be right—I need to knock him down a peg after that whole irresistible comment—I quickly put on the dress I picked for the night. Is it a little revealing? Maybe. Did I do it on purpose? No. Maybe. I still haven’t decided.
I slip on the little black number before finishing off my lipstick. After giving my hair one more shake I exit the bathroom, only to find Oliver lying on the bed, head propped up on his hand, looking like he’s better than anything that’s about to be on the menu tonight.
I don’t know what is happening right now. Our eyes are locked on each other, and I know I for sure can’t tear mine away. He starts to get up, but that doesn’t break our gaze. I feel my mouth getting dry with every step he takes toward me. And the closer he gets, and the more powerful his cologne becomes, I wonder if my knees are going to give out. And it has nothing to do with my four-inch heels.
“I need to say one thing.” His voice reverberates through me as I look up at Oliver. We’re mere inches apart. My mind immediately goes back to the hotel room after the wedding.
Fuck…I need to quit being in hotels with this man…
“Okay…”
“I know I need to be a gentleman right now. I know we’re friends, and the line has been drawn in the sand. And I respect that. But I need you to know…there is nothing gentlemanly about the thought I’m having right now. Because I would love nothing more than to fuck you in that dress before ripping it off just so I can fuck you again.”
Oliver’s eyes are on fire right now—I should know. Because there isn’t a cell in my body that isn’t burning.
“Good to know,” I say, not backing down. “Makes me feel better about staring at you earlier. Because believe me, those thoughts were not very lady-like.”
Neither of us move. I don’t know if—or when—we would have, if a knock didn’t startle us at the door.
“You two ready?” Hazel yells. “I’m starving!”
“We should go,” I say.
“I guess we should.”
I don’t move. Neither does Oliver.
“Do we have to go?” he says.
I laugh, loving that no matter what the situation, I can always count on Oliver to lighten the situation. Even if he’s minutes removed from talking like the dirty man I know he is.
“Come on,” I say, finally taking the first step so I can grab my purse. “If you’re lucky, maybe you can help me take the dress off later. That zipper is tricky.”
He groans, which only makes me laugh harder. “You’re killing me, woman,” he says, grabbing my hand and opening the door. “You’re fucking killing me.”
* * *
“I’d like to make a toast,”Oliver says as he holds up his glass of bourbon. “To Left for Love. Even though I was on the app for many years without any luck, I can’t help but be thankful for it. Not only did it bring Hazel and Izzy to Tennessee and into our lives, but it brought us all here this weekend.”
Knox raises his glass. “I’ll toast to that.”
The four of us clink glasses before Knox and Hazel break away for a tender kiss. I take a sip of my Manhattan, but happen to catch Oliver looking at me out of the corner of my eye.
