He grins. I’m catatonic.
His super-white teeth scrape his bottom lip before he leans down. This time I get a good whiff of him. He smells kind of like fruit and wood, if that’s even a thing.
“Hey, don’t be nervous. It’ll be over in a blink of an eye ...” His eyes drop to my pants. “And then you can get back to celebrating your VD ...”
My eyes spring open. “No ... nooo, I don’t have ... No, it used to sayValentine’s Day...”
This would be a great time for a tornado to touch down and sweep me away to Oz.
He chuckles. “I know ... I’m kidding. Just follow my lead, yeah?”
I nod like an idiot because words are a foreign concept right now. He’s so close to me, it has scrambled the receptors in my head. I can’t think. And there’s a good chance I’ll never recover from this sex kitten debacle. It will haunt my life.
“Also,” he adds, “I know the scene calls for a kiss, but I’m sure kissing a complete stranger today wasn’t on your to-do list. So how about we skip it? I’m sure Tate won’t mind ...”
I know he’s speaking, but my brain is also melting and yet, against my will, words tumble out of my mouth.
“Maybe we should stick to the script? You know, just in case he does mind. This class is worth forty percent of my grade. We should just become the characters.”
What am I saying? I don’t even remember processing that thought. Am I on desperate, horny autopilot?
Probably because no kiss means all four years of Hot Guy fantasy blows up in my face. This is survival time, and my body understands the assignment.
He raises his brows, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he almost looks shy. But I do know better, because a guy who looks like him gets laid on the regular.
Still, he says, “Oh,” showing off his dimple along with his crooked smile. “Yeah ... a kiss is cool.” I blink, holding my breath, as shoves his hand into his back pocket. “By the way, I like your last name.”
“I like yours too ...” I lie.
I don’t know what his last name is, but I’ll take it if he wants to share.
He chuckles. “I was making a joke because you said become the characters ... It was niche Shakespeare. You know, because their last names are the problem.”
“Oh.”My god ... obviously, I’m an idiot. How would he know my last name. I hate myself.
“When you’re ready,” Professor Tate’s voice rings out.
Oliver chuckles again, only glancing at me before walking into the spotlight, making me follow.
“May I?” he says quietly, reaching for my hand, so I nod.
He weaves his strong fingers between mine, making my heart race so fast that I’m nervous I’ll be winded when I speak. But when his eyes connect with mine, I’m instantly struck by how piercingly blue they are. It’s like I can’t look away.
We’re standing in the middle of the stage, locked on each other, tiny specks of dust sparkling in the light around us as he stares down at me.
“Ready?” he says only loud enough for me to hear.
“Yeah,” I say back.
His eyes drop to where our hands are connected before he begins softly playing with my fingers. I watch him lick his lips before his eyes lift again. There’s a shyness behind them, along with ... yearning.
Oh my god.
I can feel my chest rise and fall faster, and my lips just barely part.
He shakes his head. “‘I fear I’ve defiled your hands, which are like a holy shrine to me’”—he lifts my hand between us a bit higher, touching it to his chest—“‘by touching them with my own unworthy hands ...’”
“What?” I answer breathlessly, but he ignores me, still speaking.
