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His hand rests on my thigh as he stands again to place our order. I swear his fingers leave a burning imprint on me. Moments later he returns, hands full of baked goods.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I grabbed a variety.”

I reach out and grab the thing that captured my attention. “Cinnamon scroll. You know the way to a girl’s heart.”

“I’m glad,” he laughs, picking out a raspberry and white chocolate muffin for himself. The waitress brings us our drinks and then it’s just the two of us, tucked away in this forgotten corner. You can’t see us from the door, and this café doesn’t get enough foot traffic to have people coming around the half-wall to where we’re sitting. The fact that we’re this alone, this isolated, sends my heartrate skyrocketing. I take a sip of my chai to try and calm down, but the hot liquid just makes my skin burn even hotter.

Turning my head, I risk a glance at Oliver. He seems so unbothered, so calm as he chews.

“How’s your semester going?”

He swallows, and I’m mesmerised by the way his throat works. “Dad wants me to work with him.”

“What? Is that…good?”

“I’m not sure yet,” he says. “Something to do with communications. I’m open to it, of course, but I feel like there are strings attached.”

“Are there always strings attached with your family?”

Oliver shrugs. “Pretty much.”

My heart hurts for him. He seems so unbothered by it, like he doesn’t know any different. Or any better. “I’m sorry.” The words slip out of me easily.

“For what?” He looks confused, green eyes sparkling in the dim light.

“That they’re like that.”

Oliver shrugs. “I’m used to it.” He pauses mid-chew. “Oh, come on. Don’t look at me like that. I’m a big boy and I can handle myself. Thank you for your concern though.”

There’s something about this moment that has me moving closer into him. Lowering his coffee his eyes meet mine, and I swear it feels like I’ve been electrocuted. Like I’ve had a bolt of lightning sent through me, setting every nerve ending on fire. His hand reaches out and cups my cheek, and I lean into the physical contact.

“I’ve always wondered how many freckles you have.” Oliver’s voice is soft, and I have to lean in even more to hear him. “One day, I’m going to count them all.”

My eyes shut. “It changes. You should see me out at the farm during summer.”

“I’d pay to see that.”

Images flood my mind. Oliver with my family, sitting on the front porch as the sun goes down. Tending to the garden, spending endless hours outdoors, exploring. Just being together, away from all this stress. “I wouldn’t make you pay.”

“Oh yeah?”

Opening my eyes, I meet his. And the fire that they hold. “I’d let you come for free.”

11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Oliver.

I tap my pen against the table, an anxious habit I’ve picked up somewhere along the way as I listen to the tutor answer questions from my classmates. I usually enjoy this class but today is just dragging on.

It’s especially hard when you’re covering things that should have been asked in first year.

Do we have to reference journal articles? Yes.

Do we have to have a bibliography? Yes.

Do we have to use paragraphs? Yes? How have you gotten this far without using them?