“Oh, that’s fine. I’ll take one cheese and one chicken.”
I pay and return to the table, pleased to find Olivia’s polished off the last of the nachos. She’s typing something into her phone, frowning as she mutters to herself, “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, sorry. I was hoping to take the next train, but it’s on a weird schedule tonight due to construction. I have to wait at least another forty minutes.”
“My car is in one of the garages about two blocks from here. I can drive you home.”
“That’s all right,” she insists, all of the joy she’s had over the past half-hour drained out of her. “I can get a rideshare.”
“Olivia.” A beat after hearing her name, her gaze snaps up with a hint of heat in her eyes. “I’ll drive you home.”
“Okay,” she breathes, then swallows thickly. “But are you sure? It’s not close.”
“Even if we had to drive to Jersey, I’d still take you home.”
She wets her lips, pulling my attention to them. “You really don’t have to, I can always just wait for the train.”
“I offered, but if you want, I can wait with you instead?”
“Thank you,” she sighs with a small smile. “Actually, a ride home would be great, if you really don’t mind. I try to avoid commuting this late by myself. Also, I?—”
“Order eight-ninety-seven!”
“That’s ours.”
I stand and make my way to the handoff area, and Olivia calls after me, “What do you mean ours?”
Returning to her with the bag, I hold it up. “Shredded chicken or cheese?” Her eyes search mine in question. “For lunch tomorrow,” I add with a shrug. “Since I ate most of your nachos.”
“I’m pretty sure I did,” she laughs with a grin I’d kiss away if she’d let me. “But thank you. Cheese would be great.”
“Come on.” I brave offering my hand instead of my arm. She slides hers into mine, interlacing our fingers as her sweet smile widens. Warmth fills me, but a sudden ache festers in my chest. I hate how I’ll only have a few months of getting to know her before I have to leave. How can the universe give me this chance with her when there’s an expiration date? I suppose it’s my own damn fault for waiting so long.
We walk a few blocks to the car, and I drive her home. On the way, she tells me about how she’s not thrilled about her ethics class because the grading system is skewed heavily toward her final paper. Knowing very little about the course or the professor, I still assure her it’ll work out. All the while, her hand fits a little too perfectly in mine.
For years I worried that I'd built up the idea of her in my head, but the more time I spend with her, it’s harder to ignore that she’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a girlfriend. Hell, she’s what I’d want for a wife one day—an equal partner to spend my life with. Now my biggest concern isn’t that she’s incredible, but that I’ll fall for a woman who can only be mine until December.
What would it take to keep her?
When we arrive at her apartment building, she sighs, “Well, this is me.”
As she’s about to get out, I stop her. “Don’t forget lunch.”
“Oh, right. Thanks.”
I retrieve it from the back seat and put on my hazard lights, then get out of the car and round it. Opening her door, I offer my hand to help her out, then pass her the enchiladas. I take my time, desperate for a few extra minutes with her. Dinner was entirely too short, and I’m already looking forward to the morning.
“Thank you for coming tonight.”
“Thank you for dinner… and lunch,” she beams.
“My pleasure.” Closing the small distance keeping me from her, I resist her lips I’ve been fantasizing about all night. As I lean in, I whisper beside her ear, “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Morning.” Her echoed word comes out shaky.
I press a soft kiss to the side of her neck, and Olivia’s breath catches in her throat. My lips linger a second longer than they should as her floral perfume fills my lungs. Rose, maybe? But there’s also a hint of something sweet, like vanilla. I’ve never yearned for someone standing right in front of me like this before. I have to put space between us—immediately—before I take things too far, too fast. If she invites me upstairs, I should decline; one night with her wouldn’t be enough.
