I tried not to let it offend me. I have money, definitely not as much as she does, but I do okay. I might have used my stalking skills to look up her family and, yeah, I’ll probably never have that much in this lifetime. I’m okay with that. I just don’t know if she is.
26
OLIVIA
“How’s your blanket coming?”Penn asks as his hand glides up and down my leg.
I glance at him. We just finished eating, and we’re sitting on my couch, the TV playing a show that neither of us is watching. “Slow. I haven’t had a lot of time to work on it with classes.”
“Can I see?”
My brows pinch together. “You want to see it?”
“Fuck yeah, I do.”
“Oh…sure.” I can’t help the slight shock in the tone of my voice.
No one other than Ellie has ever cared about my stuff. To be fair, Ellie is my only real friend. Neither of my parents ever cared to see the things I was making, and well, Chad probably doesn’t even remember that I crochet. I made him a beanie once. Sure, it’s not the most masculine thing, but I thought he’d at least fake it for me. He couldn’t even pretend. He laughed it off and said he’d never wear such a ridiculous thing. I didn’t let him see how upset it made me, but he had to know. I put hoursofmeinto it, only for him to toss it into his dresser, never to be seen again.
I take Penn’s hand and lead him to my room. Grabbing the blanket that’s lying on the back of my chair in the corner, I hold the cream-colored creation to my chest. It’s not very big yet—about the size of a baby blanket—and filled with colorful yarn flowers in each square. I’m proud of how it’s turning out so far.
His fingers run along the edges. “It’s fucking amazing.”
I smile, biting my lip. The way he says it…I actually believe it.
“How many squares are you going to make?”
“I’m not sure. I have more.” I nod to my desk where they’re resting on their pegs. “Haven’t had time to add them.” I place the blanket back in its spot and drop down on my bed.
“Do you make stuff to sell?” he asks as he stands over me.
“Not really. Last year, I had some girls want a beanie I’d made for myself. I ended up selling a few around campus, but it’s really just a hobby.”
“Have you ever thought about making it more?”
“I don’t really have the time. Plus, my parents would think it’s silly.” Hearing out loud how concerned I am with what they think makes me cringe.
He steps between my legs, brushing my hair behind my shoulder, and trails his thumb along my jaw. “Who cares what they think? If you love doing it, that’s all that matters. Gotta findyourpassion, Barbie.”
He’s right. It should be that simple, but for me, it’s like jumping off a cliff with no parachute. Where will I end up? What if I fail?
His hand comes up to cup my chin, forcing my eyes to his. They’re crystal blue and captivating. Drawing me right in. All I want to do is get lost in him. Somehow, when he’s around, hemakes me feel more worthy than I ever have. Like I could do more. Chase my dreams and succeed, just as he’s doing.
Stretching my neck, I bring my lips to his. He meets me halfway, deepening the kiss with demanding brushes of his tongue. I wrap my arms around his neck and fall back against the bed, bringing him down with me. He throws his arms out to not crush me, but I’d welcome his weight. I want his body on mine, want to feel the heat of him. And I do. I feel it bleeding from his body to mine, feel the hardness growing between us.
His hand dives into my hair, and my legs wrap around his waist. He groans as I lift my hips and rock against him, needing the friction. An orgasm is already building. We’ve done nothing but kiss for weeks, and I love it, but I want more.
“Christ,” he pants, ripping away from me. “We should stop.”
I blow out a frustrated breath as he steps back, taking my orgasm with him. “I-I don’t want to stop.”
He gives me a look as I prop myself up on my elbows, staring hard at him. His chest is heaving, his brows furrowing as he scans my face.
I swallow, building some nerve. “We don’t have to have sex, but we can do other stuff…can’t we?” I wait for embarrassment to hit, but Penn doesn’t make me feel ashamed. He’s always encouraging me to ask for things I want, and I don’t think he’ll tell me no.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, crowding me again. “You want me to touch you, Olivia? Make you feel good?”
Oh my. Yes.
