Ollie laughs. “You mean the night of our drunken cartwheels?”
“Only one of us was actually doing cartwheels, Oliver. Don’t kid yourself.”
A smile flickers at the corner of his mouth. I want to press my thumb there and yank that smile like a loose thread on a thrifted sweater. I want to unravel him in my hands until there’s nothing left, until I’m so tangled up in him I’ll never break loose.
“What?” Ollie says. “What is it?”
When I kiss him, he leans back into me, and all I can think is that I’ve been a fool for not kissing Oliver Dunne every second since the day we met.
But after a few moments, Ollie breaks off the kiss and rests his forehead against mine.
“Nina,” he sighs.
“Ollie,” I reply. I lean my cheek into his hand, wondering why we aren’t still kissing.
He pulls away from me with a groan. “You’re going to kill me.”
“Correct. I just haven’t decided how.”
“I have no idea what this means,” he says.
“You don’t know whatwhatmeans?”
“You kissing me.”
“It means I want to boink you, obviously.”
“You want to...” Ollie laughs. “And you think I say weird shite.”
“I meant what I said. I come when I want. I happen to know you are a fabulous lover with a thorough understanding of anatomy. Now, back to the kissing, please.”
“What I mean,” Ollie says, very much not getting back to the kissing, “is I don’t know how the kissing relates to our... situation.”
“Our... right.” I hadn’t forgotten about Ollie’s ultimatum, but I’d hoped his silence on the matter was a sign he’d given up.
“We need to talk about it.”
“I don’t think there’s anything to say.”
Ollie rubs at the back of his neck. “I still don’t understand why we can’t be together for real.”
I let my face fall into my hands. I’m too drunk for this. “I don’t either,” I say. It’s the closest to honest I’ve ever been with him about how I really feel. I love him. He knows it, even if I’ve never said it. This should be simple. If I were watching myself in a movie, I’d be screaming at the screen by now.
Ollie doesn’t say anything. Why can’t he just leave things the way they are? He ought to walk away. I’m not sure why he hasn’t. My commitment issues have never been a secret. I wear them as part of my whole persona. I’m not proud of it. I don’t even like it. But I don’t know how to change. I’m not sure I can.
“Are you even having fun, Nina?” he finally says.
I lift my head to look at him. I know he’s referring to my rules. Have fun. Don’t rely on anyone but yourself. I told Jo they weren’t impossible. Usually they are pretty easy to live by.
Usually.
But when I look at Ollie now, when I think about getting ready with the girls earlier, about how utterly disconnected I’ve felt from charter season, I wonder if I’ve gotten everything wrong. Ollie has a point. The things that used to be fun aren’t as fun as I remember. Take tonight, for example. I only enjoyed myself when I was with him. Being around Ollie is fun. Not being with him... isn’t.
“I don’t know,” I say.
Somehow I’ve landed in a space where my rules contradict each other. I think back to the lost twentysomething I was when I made them. My parents... they were the catalyst for this, but a decade later, they’re doing fine. It’s been ten years, and Dad hasn’t had a single relapse. I’m out of debt. My parents have rebuilt their life. Maybe Jo was right. Maybe my rules are ridiculous. The thought of letting them go is both thrilling and terrifying.
Ollie is right. We need to talk about it, but I can’t do that right now. I’m not ready. I need more time.
