Page 7 of Depths of Desire
It was more like a shift. A tremor in a carefully built schedule. A name from a summer I barely remembered shaking loose from the back of my mind.
Still, it was just a ride. A long stretch of road and maybe some awkward silence. I could handle that.
I had to.
Lena wanted me home, and that just had to be my priority.
THREE
LENNOX
I toldmyself it wasn’t a big deal.
It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t a hookup. It was just a ride. A favor. A long-ass road trip through a Nebraska snow globe with someone I used to kind of know, who barely acknowledged me on campus and probably hadn’t thought about me in years.
And yet, my palms were sweating.
I adjusted the heater one click higher and rubbed my hands over the steering wheel. The heat was blazing, warm enough that I’d already shrugged off my coat and hoodie, sitting in just a long-sleeved thermal and jeans. The windows were beginning to fog faintly at the corners, and the sky outside was still the deep, silent blue of almost-morning. Snowflakes drifted in lazy swirls across my windshield, lit by the headlights that gave them a whole other glow.
Downtown was quiet. A few cabs slid by. Streetlights blinked yellow. I turned onto Oliver’s block and spotted the building. It was a modern high-rise, with glass balconies and a sleek entrance that screamed athlete housing.
I parked just outside the main doors and checked the time. 6:03 a.m. I’d said I’d be there at six. I was three minutes late. I was never late.
Great start.
I cut the engine but left the heat running and texted Lena.
Me:Here.Hope he’s awake.
No reply.Fair.
I sat in the silence, the car ticking faintly as it settled. I tried not to check my reflection in the rearview mirror. I tried not to wonder if Oliver would say anything at all beyond hello.
And I definitely tried not to wonder why I gave a fuck.
This wasn’t a thing.
He was just someone from the same town, a familiar name, a face I used to glance at when I wasn’t supposed to. He was also a silver medalist. For whatever reason, this intimidated me. I tried to shake this off and remind myself that he was just a guy.
Still, when the building door opened and Oliver stepped outside, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, I sat up straighter without meaning to.
He looked exactly the way I remembered, only sharper around the edges, more angular, less soft. His jaw was set, eyes unreadable, posture taut like he was walking onto the starting block instead of into my car.
He opened the passenger door and ducked in without ceremony.
“Hey,” he said, voice gravel-thick from sleep. He pulled the door shut behind him with a muted thunk.
“Hey,” I said, aiming for casual. “Right on time.”
He nodded and dropped his bag at his feet. The car instantly fogged a little more from the cold air off his body, but that wasn’t what made the temperature shift.
It was him.
The stillness and the quiet gravity.
I pulled out slowly, turning up the heat a notch. A few blocks later, Oliver shifted in his seat and muttered, “Jesus, it’s boiling in here.”
“Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t want to freeze while I waited.”
