Chapter 23
23
Evie
Being Oliver’s girlfriend is dazzling. I feel like we’re living in a rom-com. He’s the king of grand gestures.
You are gorgeous, Evie.
Let me drive you and Bree to the movie.
Flowers.
Chocolates.
Books.
Tickets.
I’ve never felt so wanted and desired and needed.
He and I want to spend every moment together. School itself is torture , just an exercise in waiting to see him again. I am utterly and wholeheartedly, outrageously captivated by him.
“I thought your boyfriend’s name was Drew,” Mum says on the phone.
What? God, she can be hopeless. “Mum! Drew and I are friends .”
“Photography Drew?”
“Yes!”
“I thought you were more than friends,” she says. “The way you were talking.”
Why would I be interested in Drew when I could be with Oliver ? Wait till she meets him. That will be persuasive.
“How’s your study going?” she asks.
It’s something I usually wax lyrical about. The driving force of my life these last five years. I need to talk to Oliver about this. I don’t know if he understands how much getting top marks means to me. I know he’s committed to his own study and getting into Arts Law, but I need him to understand my commitment to mine too. Because right now, I cannot let landing the Boyfriend of the Century distract me from the future I’ve dreamt about forever …
“Oliver,” I say, pushing him away from me on his bed one Thursday afternoon after school. We’re not having sex. Not yet. I’m nowhere near ready. But we spend a lot of time in his room kissing, with me imagining it. “I’m worried I’m going to fail.”
He sits bolt upright. Seriousness personified. “Fail at what? This?” He gestures at the bed. And at us.
I laugh. “What? No!” I mean, yes, secretly I am worried I’ll fail at that too, but I’m talking about my schoolwork. “I’m trying to get a scholarship,” I admit. “You’re distracting me. I mean, this is distracting me. You and me.”
Do I imagine the flicker of annoyance?
“Evie Hudson: I won’t have this,” he says, taking my hand and squeezing it. For a second I panic and think he’s going to break up with me. “I’m going to make your scholarship my project.”
I laugh with relief.
“Pass me your phone,” he says.
I hand it over and watch as he does something with my calendar.
“All right, I’ve shared your calendar with mine. Now I’ll know exactly when every assignment is due. I’ll know when to leave you alone so you can study,” he says. “I’ll help you get the scholarship, Evie.”
I need him to do exactly what he’s saying, but I don’t want him to leave me alone. I worry if I’m not directly in his line of sight, some other, more incredible girl will walk into his life and steal him away from me while I’m off cramming for a modern history exam or trying to balance chemistry equations. I see the way they all look at him, everywhere we go together.
I want to show my mum this boy. The way he supports me. The way he is as dedicated to the future I’m trying to create as I am.
He pulls me into yet another breathtaking kiss that sends me into some other world. This time it’s deeper, and faster. He rolls me onto my back and pins my thigh to the mattress with his knee. I push my leg up underneath him, testing that I’m not trapped, and he immediately releases me.
His hand trails down my throat toward the button on my school shirt, playing with it. It’s tantalizing, and terrifying, and I wonder if he’s waiting for me to stop him.
“I’ll always look after you,” he whispers. I’m not sure if we’re still talking about the scholarship, but my heart races either way as his fingers deftly flick the plastic button and the top of my shirt falls open, exposing the lace of my white bra underneath.
He’s looking at me as if I’m the first girl he’s ever seen. “Is this okay?” he asks.
I need more information. If he’s talking about just that top button, then yes? I think so? It’s just that I’m frozen right now and can’t utter any response one way or the other.
“Do you know how gorgeous you are?” he says.
I do not know that.
His finger trails along my skin, teasing the lace. “I think I’m falling in love with you,” he says, simply, while I stare at him. “Is that okay?”
He kisses my neck, and then my chest, and then I’m swooning like all those eighteenth-century girls, in the very best way. I know it’s been only a few weeks, and they’ve been intense, but he loves me? Already?
“Maybe we’re soulmates,” he suggests. “There’s never been anyone else who’s made me feel like this, Evie. Never. Seriously.”
I get it. I do. Soulmates. What else could something this powerful possibly be?
I want to tell him I love him too. I really want to. I should. It must be true—I’m entirely obsessed with him, after all.
His leg pins mine again, the weight of it heavier this time as he looks into my eyes with a silent intensity. I try to push back but can’t, panic flooding my chest until I open my mouth and say the three little words he’s expecting.
And the pressure from his leg instantly lifts.