“Well, Misha’s into early two-thousands music. Think Modest Mouse, M83, or Lifehouse. Grey enjoys piano music as well…” I have to suppress a laugh thinking about his face when he heard she was into that music. He always thinks he’s the only one with taste in this company.
I’m not into music. I don’t mind it, but I would never put it on for myself. Confessing this will likely make me look bad, but I want to be honest with her where I can be. “Oliver’s not really into music.”
As she tilts her head, curiosity dancing in her eyes, she asks, “What is Oliver into then?” The way she pronounces my name,Ol-ih-vuh, with that distinct, melodious British accent, causes a little flutter in my chest. The sound of my name lingers, feeling like a small, personal serenade, making me wish she’d find more reasons to say it again.
“Jamie? What does Oliver like?” she asks again when I can’t seem to answer right away.
I hesitate, caught off-guard. “Oliver is…” I pause, unsure how to describe myself. “He’s into coding, and gaming, and… coffee. He likes to read too.”
“He sounds like somebody I would like.” I can barely hear her whisper, and my ears heat, but I don’t give a damn.
Did she just say she thinks she could like me?
“What kind of books does he read?” Amelia asks, and like a proper booklover, my mind blanks on every book I’ve ever read at that question.
But then, a memory of her sitting in the cafeteria, reading Jane Austen’sPride and Prejudicecomes to mind.
“His favorite isPride and Prejudice.” Maybe that’s an odd book for an almost thirty-year-old nerd, but it was Morgan’s favorite when we were younger. And on evenings when we couldn’t sleep, kept awake by my mother’s sobs from the room next to us, she made me come to her bed and let me read it to her until we both fell asleep. This book is home for me, the comfort of reading under the covers, shielded from the chaos of our childhood. And whenever I feel overwhelmed, I grab it and read.
It also inspired my habit of writing letters. When I was younger, I wrote letters to my bullies, to my mother, later to my professors, and to people who wronged me. Since I never had the courage to openly address issues or even fight, I swallowed everything, went home, and wrote in a letter exactly what I would have said, what I wanted to say. I never sent them, of course. I kept all of them in shoeboxes under my bed. But writing it down was freeing.
For the last two years, the only one I wrote to washer. And it was never an argument I wanted to talk out, as I was used to. With her, it’s me telling her what I would love to say. About my life, how my day went, how I saw her that day, how beautiful she was, how her smile can light up a room, even though she smiles way too little. Or how the book she read that day, the day I first saw her, was my favorite book.
And how I fell for her at first sight.
“My favorite isPride and Prejudicetoo.” Amelia perks up as if us having the same favorite book meant something to her. “Well, besidesTwilight, but let’s just not mention this to anybody.”
A genuine laugh breaks out of me, and I’m just aware enough to pull my finger from the mic button not to let it transfer over.
“Amelia, where have you been,loca!” I recite from the movie Misha made us watch, which Grey hated and I enjoyed a little too much.
I need to read the books as soon as possible.
“Oh my God, stop!” Amelia laughs the cutest giggle, and my heart flips again.
I made her laugh.
“Let’s just not talk about it.” She grins, pulling her feet up on the couch and her knees to her chest, hugging herself. “And what is he like?”
“Who?” I ask, confused.
“Oliver, what is Oliver like? I know he’s bloody brilliant, but they always keep to themselves, and nobody really knows them. He’s always polite, although I don’t think he’s the biggest fan of me.”
What?
Wow, I knew I wasn’t good at making contact with her, but to make her think I don’t like her?
What did I do?
“That’s not true. I’m sure Oliver…”
What?Is in love with you?
Fuck.
I guess I’m taking too long because Jamie takes over. “Oliver is, in fact, brilliant and often lost in his own thoughts. Don’t take his restraint personally. He’s like that with most people, except for Misha and Grey, of course.”
“Of course, why would I think I’d be something special? I’m making myself too important again.” Amelia smiles sadly, and I curse Jamie.
