“Olivia, look at me.” Her eyes sail from one corner of the room to the other as they swell with tears. “I’m not the one for you. I can never be who you want me to be. I wouldn’t even want to try.”
She runs her fingers over my left arm. “That’s not what your body says.”
Olivia was with me after the funeral when I got my body mapped out to match my brother’s. She held my hand for five hours straight as I gritted through the pain, and I very much intend on returning the favor when she goes into labor.
“My body is a tribute to Benji. You and me together would be a lie.”
“You made promises, Blake.”
“And I intend to keep them.”
Olivia sets her gaze dead ahead as tears slide down her face. “I want your name on all the legal documents once the baby is born.”
“What?”
“You heard me. If you intend to keep your word, you’ll step up in the exact way you said you would. I don’t see why you shouldn’t do that.” Her gaze drifts to mine with the dare.
“All right. I’ll do it. You realize that you’ll be surrendering that child to me legally.” Not that I object. In fact, in a strange way, I feel a sense of comfort. In the back of my mind, I was half afraid she’d pick up one day and disappear with a piece of my beating heart.
“Oh, honey”—she gets up and dusts the crumbs off her lap—“consider yourself lucky that I’m not taking you down much more colorful legal avenues.” She scoops up her pink box and flicks the empty carton of milk with her finger. “Who knows? You might get more than you ever dreamed of in your Christmas stocking this year.” She stalks off in her shockingly high heels, her pantyhose with the sharp black line up the back.
Holy crap. She’s batshit. I dig my palm into my eye a moment. I can really pick ‘em. I get up and take a breath before heading back out into the cold, bleak world. Annie is an improvement in my taste in women by miles.
Annie—just the thought of her puts that goofy grin right back on my face. I wonder what she would think of Olivia. It’s probably best the two don’t mix. Olivia would eat Annie for breakfast, quite literally at this point. But if I want Annie in my life, she’ll have to know eventually. I suppose the truth is always inevitable in the end. Unfortunately, for me, this truth ties me to Olivia for the rest of my days.
Sometimes the truth is a bitch in red heels.
Three days goby without seeing Annie. It’s painful, and the world slowly reverts to its tortured state without her. As it stands we’re only seeing one another after the shows, and, since the band performs just a couple of nights a week, that limits it to less time than my body demands. No performance at the Black Bear equals no Annie, so I head over to campus and straight for the Student Union. One of the guys from the frat I’ve inadvertently taken residence with is working behind the desk. He’s got his funhouse glasses on, the ones that look as if they’re pixilated. His hair is dyed black with a blue tint right along with his eyebrows.
“What’s up?” I nod trying to seem inconspicuous. “A friend of mine left her lens cap behind, and I sort of need to get it to her. I don’t have her number. You mind telling me her schedule? I think she mentioned a photography class.” It’s true, Annie left her lens cap behind at the bar last Tuesday, and I know for a fact she’s losing her mind trying to find it. If it were anyone else, I would have simply given it to the bartender—one of her brothers. But it’s not anyone else, it’s Annie, the girl who occupies my mind 24/7 and brought a well-needed balm to my heart these past few weeks. It doesn’t change the fact that losing Benji still hurts like shit, but she sure numbs the sting.
“Lens cap, huh?” He takes it from me a second. “I know that one. It’s a pricey camera.” He starts hacking away at the keyboard. “What’s her name? I’ll tell you where to find her.”
“Annie Edwards,” it rolls off my tongue, and I want to laugh or smile like a fucking loon for the hundredth time today. Annie is like a drug I haven’t taken a hit off of for a good long while, hell, ever. I slap my hand to the back of my neck and wait as he tracks her down. My body heats up because I can feel time closing in the gap between our last meeting and the next.
“Looks like she’s just wrapping up with Digital Studios. If you miss her there you can catch her at Prescott Hall. That’s her dorm.” He frowns. “You’re not a stalker or anything are you?”
“Nope, but if I were, you’d be fired.” I mock shoot him as I head out the door. “Where’s that Digital Design class at?”
“DigitalStudios. Two buildings to your left—Doris Hall first floor, room B14.”
“B14, got it.” I fly outside, hell, float at the prospect of seeing her again, sans her big bros watching over us with their bloated frames, their menacing growls. Then there’s Baya and Izzy hovering like a pair of old aunts. A wry smile floats to my lips. I like that Annie is well looked after, cared for. God knows if anyone deserves to be treated that way it’s her. I make a beeline for her classroom just as a stream of bodies pour out the door. A pair of familiar sorority girls giggle at one another and pause once they spot me. I’ve seen them at the bar, front row, lots of cleavage, lots of leg—hot pink thongs if I’m not mistaken—always ready and willing for a one-night stand.
“Hey, you’re that guy from 12 Deadly Sins!” The tall one with an elongated neck and chunky mascara squeals. “You think I can get you to sign something for me?”
“Sure.” I glance past her in search of Annie. I’d hate to miss her because I needed to get my ego stroked. The truth is I don’t mind doing stuff like this. One day I’m going to hang up the mike, and all these ego-stroking moments will come to an end. “I don’t have a pen.”
She pulls one out of her bag like a rabbit out of a hat and proceeds to unbutton her blouse.
“Right here, big boy.” She dips her finger into her cushioned flesh.
I glance past her, still no sign of Annie. What the hell. I’ll make it quick. It’s not the first tit I’ve scrawled my name over. Signed a few more interesting places, too.
A flash goes off in the distance.
I glance over as I’m finishing up, and Annie waves with the camera in her hand.
“Sorry,” I whisper, and she brushes it off like it’s no big deal.
