“I think we both deserve some rest.”
“We do.” She yawns. “Okay. I’m going to shut my eyes.”
“Okay . . .” I swallow and ask, “Do you mind if I stay?”
“Not at all,” she says. “As long as you don’t snore.”
I chuckle. “No need to worry about that.” I lift and pull my sweater over my head before I lie back down and snuggle into one of her pillows.
I feel the need to wrap my arm around her and pull her into my chest, but I know that’s not the kind of friendship we have, so instead, I tuck my hands under the pillow and get comfortable. I would love nothing more than to take off my jeans, but that would also push my luck.
“Ollie?” I ask, hoping she hasn’t fallen asleep yet.
“Yeah?”
“Is your name short for anything?”
She turns toward me again and smiles. “How long have you been wanting to ask that?”
“Day one,” I answer.
“Day one, huh?” She smirks, and fuck, it’s so cute, especially with her resting on her pillow, free of makeup, a sleepy look in her eyes. “What took you so long?”
“Thought it was appropriate now. I like Ollie, but I was curious if it was a nickname for something else.”
“It is, but no one, not even my parents, calls me by my real name.”
“What is it?”
“Not sure I should tell you. I don’t want you thinking you can use it.”
“When would I use it?”
She moves an inch closer till our knees touch and says, “If you were mad at me. Or obsessed maybe. Or in some passionate—yet fake—moment when you call me by my birth name, thinking it will make me weak in the knees. It won’t happen.”
“Good, because I have zero intention of using it.”
“Well, as long as you have no intention of using it . . .” Her teeth run over the corner of her mouth before she says, “My real name is Oliana. Oliana Owens.”
Ollie-ahn-uh.
My lips rub together and test her name on my tongue. “Oliana.” I tip her chin up and say, “That’s really fucking pretty.”
“Don’t get any ideas,” she says, pointing her finger at me.
“Oliana,” I repeat to myself.
“Stop.” She playfully pushes at my chest, but I capture her hand.
“It’s really . . . really fucking pretty.”
Her eyes meet mine, and there’s a quiet pause between us when she wets her lips and her fingers slightly claw against my chest.
“What?” I say, breaking the silence.
“Nothing.” She smiles.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
