"Hi," I say.
Her lips curve up in a smirk as she nibbles on the bottom one, her eyes raking me in. "Should I ask them to come back?"
She takes a step to bridge the gap between us. She’s so close, I can smell her shampoo.
Vanilla and coconut.
Her hand rests on my bare chest, warming my skin, giving me a wave of goosebumps.
"Olive, we’re ready," somebody says from behind us, interrupting whatever was just happening.
She steps away.
"I should go," she whispers, tipping her chin over my shoulder.
I clear my throat and give her one, single nod.
My hand gravitates to my pocket, making sure I can feel the little box stored inside, and I sigh with relief when it’s still there.
I shut down my favorite jewelers,Amore’s,two weeks ago, once Olive left New York, and commissioned this custom necklace for her to wear tonight.
It’s on a gold plated chain, with the lettersOAfused together, and tiny diamonds filling in the letters.
I take it out of my jacket pocket one last time, checking it over, ensuring it’s centered in the box before snapping it shut, and putting it back.
"What am I doing?" I ask myself with a shaky breath.
I already wish this night were over.
Her team left a while ago. I didn’t say goodbye, I didn’t even show my face while they were doing their thing. I just kept to myself in my room, playing video games.
But it’s too silent out there for me to ignore for any longer, and we need to leave soon.
I step out of my bedroom, hit with an abundance of scents thickening the air, and not a hint of mess left behind.
I’m looking for Olive, but I don’t want to call for her in case she isn’t completely ready.
So, I sit and wait on my couch, checking the time on my watch a total of four times before I hear her heels clacking against the hardwood floor. When she rounds the corner, my heart stops.
A gold, shimmery dress, that looks like it was made specifically for her, shows off curves that she keeps hidden from the rest of the world, a deep V accentuating her cleavage.
She’s pinning earrings into her ears as she makes her way over to me. "I need your help."
I swallow hard, watching her thin straps slide down the sides of her shoulders. When she turns her back to me, my mouth is suddenly dry.
Desperate for water andapparently,her.
"I can’t reach my zip. Can you do it?"
I lick my lips to stop them from cracking, clearing my throat. Inching closer to her, I make a conscious effort not to move too quickly or come off too desperate.
I don’t want to touch her anywhere other than the zip, or get close enough to breathe her in anymore than I already have.
She holds the base of her dress between her finger tips. My hand follows toward hers, hovering ever so slightly, careful not to graze her smooth, tanned skin with my knuckles.
"We’re on a time crunch here, Jones. You can ogle my back later, but we need to be out that door in two minutes. And if you’re going to keep picturing me naked, I fear we won’t make it on time, or at all." She looks over her shoulder, her brown hair falling in front of her face.
"Are you always this crude?" I ask her, and I realize she’d sliced completely through the tension I unknowingly created for myself. Any nerves or hesitation I’d felt vanished into thin air.
