She has unbuckled her seat belt so she can turn her body to face me and look over the divider as I write on the other side of the paper:
I know what you mean. I hope we get used to it. I could get used to you… P.S. No more alcohol until tomorrow, okay? Long flights are hard on the bodyeven without alcohol. And I want to be the only one who’s hard on your body for this trip.
Pure contentment spreads across her pretty face as she reaches over to take the paper from me and slips it into her handbag. Then she reaches over the divider so I can hold her hand. It’s not comfortable, but we stay like this until the flight attendant comes by to ask if she wants anything else to drink. When Olivia asks for water, I squeeze her hand before letting go.
When we’re in the back seat of my hired car, Olivia asks, “So, are we going to do it New York–style while we’re here?”
“You’d better believe it. For one New York minute.”
“Ooooh. Nice. Thin crust, wide slice.” She leans in and says, “I can’t wait for you to fold me in half and devour me.”
I nearly swallow my tongue and choke on it. It’s a good thing I don’t choke to death, because I really want to find out what thin-crust, wide-slice sex is, and I definitely want to fold this woman up and devour her. “Unrelated, I emailed Louisa during the flight to let her know I want to meet with her when we’re back in the Bay Area. To discuss another donation. She said she’s seen the pictures we posted. She thinks we look cute together.”
Olivia wrinkles her nose. “Really? Did she actually use the word ‘cute’?”
“She did.”
This girl’s smile is rarely this bright, but when it is, I feel like bursting into song. I would never burst into song—or burst into anything, for that matter—but it’s nice to know that I can feel this way. Sometimes.
“Thank you,” she says. “That’s cool.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
She looks serious again, all of a sudden. That did not last long. “I just want to say that if things were based on skill alone, I’m confident that I would have been featured already.”
“I have no doubt. If it were based on beauty, you’d be a principal dancer already.”
Olivia giggles and rolls her eyes. I don’t know if I’ve ever made her giggle before.
“I can’t wait to see you on stage again.”
She blinks. “Again?”
“I mean…”I could tell her. Why shouldn’t I tell her?“I mean, I went to that recital in Cleveland.”
“Right. It’s just…”
“What?”
“You really didn’t think I should be a professional dancer.”
“I was wrong.” That was the first time I’ve ever said those three little words out loud in my life, and I mean it.
She is even more stunned by my utterance than I am. Her lower lip quivers, but she manages to hide it with a small smile that reaches inside me, grips my heart, and then plucks it from my chest when she forms the quiet words, “Thank you, Johnny.”
My fingers reach out to touch her lips. I don’t even know why until she kisses them. My fingers understand her so much more than my brain does, I guess. I cradle her face in my hands. Her eyes are wet. I don’t understand. “What?”
“Are you acting right now?”
“What? No.” Why would she ask me that? “No.”
She unbuckles her seat belt and leans over to kiss me, almost frantic, like it’s a kiss goodbye, like we might never see each other again.
I smooth my fingers over her hair. “Hey. Hey. Are you okay?”
Olivia nods, kisses me one more time, and then settles back into the seat and looks out her window.
I can’t catch my breath. I feel queasy. I don’t ever want to be kissed like that again, like it’s the last time. I don’t understand what just happened. The past few days have been a roller coaster of emotions for me. I don’t do roller coasters. Or emotions.
