He looks stern, but his eyes are smiling up at me. Maybe I don’t need sustenance after all. I could survive on his smilesalone.
Wow, that was sappyandcreepy!
We take my truck instead of Oliver’s Prius because, despite his pessimism, I’m sure we’ll be able to find a tree.
I mean, how hard could it be to find a Christmas tree around Christmas? It’s a seasonal business. They should have more than enough supply.
“So, where are we going exactly?” I ask after Oliver feeds an address in my GPS that’s basically in the middle of nowhere.
“You’ll see,” Oliver mysteriously responds.
“You aren't taking me out of the city to kill me, are you?” I joke. To be honest, it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. I’m already mentally curating my last wishes list.
“Come on, Mr. Muscles. Is that what you think of me?” he pouts. “So many people saw me get in your car just now. That would be the most stupid way to murder someone.”
I huff out a startled laugh. Why did he have to be cute, hot, funny, and sexy all at the same time?
He looks at me with a sly grin. Warmth blooms in my chest.
“So how would you murder someone?” I ask, my voice low.
“Hmm.” He doesn’t even blink at the question. “First of all, I wouldn't be seen with someone I’m going to kill. I’d give you the address to the place, preferably on a piece of paper. No texts, obviously.”
“Obviously,” I nod.
“I’d leave at least an hour before you. Then I’d go to a lot of places with cameras, setting alibis, you know?”
“Of course.”
“Then I'd go to the place where I invited you. Make the kill quick. Since I can’t take Captain Biceps in combat, it’d have to be quick and easy,” he says, checking me out, his eyes dark.
“Oh, this beef buffet?” I point at myself, echoing Melanie.
His face turns gloriously red. “After killing you, I’d spend some time cleaning up the crime scene.”
“Wait, I really think you should reconsider the sparring.” I imagine Oliver wrapped around me, trying to take control of me. I might even let him win if he asks nicely. Okay, time to change the topic before I swerve the car into oncoming traffic.
“Don’t be cocky, big guy. I’ll have you know I’ve gotten into many fights. I even made the other guy look worse than me in a few.” He isn’t looking at me anymore.
“Yeah, a big troublemaker, were you?”
“Nope, just a gay kid in a small town,” he says, his voice small.
I don’t like that sound, but I want to know more. The need to know every little detail about him slams into me, knocking the air right out of my lungs.
“You were out in school?” I carefully ask.
He still doesn’t look at me. “Not by choice.”
My hands grip the wheel hard, my fingers itching with the need to draw blood.
“I was secretly seeing this closet case in high school. You know, big, toxic jock type. He got so scared his secret would come out that he told everyone I groped him in the locker room,” Oliver says. “It was hell after that. My best friend fake-dated me for the next two years to offset some of it, but it didn’t help much.”
I grind my teeth, already making plans for this fucking loser who hurt my Oliver. “Mmmhmm… What was the name of the guy again?”
“Mason?” Oliver turns to me, confused.
“Right. And his last name?” I ask, casually.
