“I like routine! Sue me.” Vince steals the other half of Ollie’s cookie from her hand and shoves it in his mouth. “Speaking of, we should make a plan for tomorrow. A hike, then lunch, then maybe the lake—”
“Look at him. Scheduling fun,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
Ollie laughs. “He can’t help it. He was born with a calendar for a soul.”
“Excuse me for valuing order,” Vince says, defensively. “I like clarity!”
“You like predictability,” I correct.
“Fine.” He points at me like he’s about to prove something. “You think I don’t do spontaneous? Watch this. Right now I’m—”
“Overthinking?” I finish for him.
“Trying to calculate the most efficient spontaneous action?” Ollie adds sweetly.
Vince glares at both of us. “This is slander.”
“This is accurate,” Ollie says, unapologetic.
“You can have routine and still allow yourself some indulgence in random recklessness,” I argue, part of me expressing real emotion now.
“Oh, I didn’t realize you’re an expert in spontaneity,” Vince says, a smirk forming at the corners of his mouth.
He knows how feral I am right now. Pent up and edged for hours. He’s playing me like a deck of cards. Half of me wants to crawl across the table and sink my teeth into his bottom lip. The other half acts instead.
“You want spontaneous—” I say, my body humming with the type of electricity that only appears when you’re about to do something reckless.
I lean across the corner of the kitchen island, grab Ollie by the face, and crash my lips into hers.
For a brief second, we’re unmoving. Ollie is rigid and unyielding. Shocked by my advance, no doubt. A moment of panic overwhelms me, but before I can break away, Ollie stands from her chair, our lips barely parting.
“Finally,” she moans as she kisses me back.
A messy and desperate press of lips and tongue that tastes like chocolate and sin. Her hands slide up my body to pull me closer by the back of my neck, her tongue claiming my mouth in the most primal way possible.
My body explodes as her hands tangle in my hair, and suddenly everything makes sense, and the world feels like it’s spinning just for us.
The ache between my legs hits critical overload, and for the second time tonight, I feel myself about to explode.
Suddenly, Ollie breaks from the kiss and takes a step back, her hands covering her mouth, her brows furrowed, and her eyes wide. Her cheeks are a fiery shade of red.
“Fuck!” she hisses, looking between Vince and me. “I’m…I didn’t…umm…I’m so sorry…I...”
I tear my eyes from Ollie and swallow hard as they fall on Vince, who is looking at Ollie with new eyes. Eyes that I’ve never seen on him before.
Ollie claps her hand over her mouth when neither of us speaks a word, like she’s about to throw up, and stumbles her way out of the kitchen, her footsteps pounding up the stairs.
“Vince,” I whisper, barely audible. I’ve never done anything like this before.
“What was that?” he asks, but his tone isn’t accusatory; it's curious.
“I don’t know! I swear I don’t know. I was just thinking about dinner, and being spontaneous, and her mouth was right there…”
“Have you ever thought about doing that before?”
I take a moment to catch my breath before answering. The last thing I should do right now is lie to his face.
“Would you hate me if I said yes?”
