“Well, it wasn’t obvious when we first met, and I was completely convinced you hated me for some unknown reason. Ari and Meg swore you were nice, but I just hadn’t seen that side of you yet, not until the porch decorations.” She looks at me like she’s shocked that this could be the real me. Almost like she doesn’t trust it or that it could be too good to be true.
“I didn’t hate you. I hated that I thought I would never have a chance with you. And some people might say I’m anything but nice. That’s usually just them judging me on how I look, though.”
Olive shifts slightly. “Yeah, I know how that feels.”
I kiss her lightly on the cheek, brushing a few strands of hair out of the way first. “I hope you don’t just think I’m nice, but that you believe it.”
“How are you so calm about this?”
“Calm about what?”
“About this.” She gestures between us.
“I’m not. Believe me, I’m scared out of my mind that I’m going to fuck it up. I wish every day I had some sort of cheat code so that I’d always make you happy and never mess it up. But I’m not going to let the first person I’ve ever felt this connection with slip through my fingers without a fight. I’ve worked hard for everything I have. This is no different, other than it being more important.” I slide my hand up and down her arm gently, enjoying the feel of holding her. Olive shivers a bit as I do it. “Are you cold? Let’s get this blanket on you.” I pull the comforter up over our legs, snuggling her in closer.
“No, I’m just . . . never mind. Why is it more important?”
Christ!She’s not going to let me get away without sharing some of how I’m feeling.
“Because it’s you. I’ve waited a long time to meet someone who I had this kind of connection with. I don’t want to fuck it up.”
“Oh, Sam. You won’t, but I hate to break it to you, I’m not that special. I’m just a girl who flashes the town her oversized underwear from time to time.” Olive laughs at her own joke.
“I mean, you said it, not me.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “But you are so much more than that.”
“How could you know that?” She’s turned serious, shifting her body to face me fully.
“I just do. Like when you came to my mom’s house to help her with a book. How you started to open up to me at the corn maze, and when you gave Mrs. Baxter a hug. You have a kind heart. You’re a good egg.” Her cheeks turn a deep crimson as she looks away. “Hey, don’t hide from me.” I touch her chin softly while turning her back to look me in the eyes. She bristles slightly, shaking off whatever she was feeling.
“Let’s play a game.”
“So, we aren’t actually watching the movie then?” I hit the clicker to pause it.
“I’ve seen it a million times. I want to know you better. Let’s play twenty questions.” She grabs the strawberry licorice I packed and tears into one.
“Okay, haven’t played that one since middle school, but I’ll give it a go. What are the rules?” Her eyes bug out at my question.
“Um? It’s pretty simple, we ask each other questions and answer them.”
“I know that, but shouldn’t we make it more interesting?” I grin at her as she shifts, clearly thinking about my proposition.
“Okay . . . what do you propose?”
“How about if one of us refuses to answer, they have to do a dare instead?”
Her mouth drops open as a sound that’s half laugh, half scoff bounces out. “That’s literally just truth or dare then.”
“And?”
“Okay, fine. I’m going first though. How old are you?”
“Thirty-two. How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.”
Jesus, I knew she was younger than me, but eight years . . . I’m surprised by how intelligent and poised she is. At twenty-four I was a fucking nightmare.
“What’s your middle name?”
