Chapter 3 #2
“You didn’t finish her off? What the fuck’s the matter with you?” Ollie piles on, clearly taking my side in this ridiculous charade of a real argument.
"They won’t arrest a pretty girl like Kat? Look at me! I'm getting thrown in the back of a squad car for sure,” Vince says, feigning horror as he grabs another cookie from the tray and leans against the counter. “These are fucking delicious by the way,” he adds.
“I bet you’d love prison,” Ollie says, ignoring his praise, and filling her mouth with another half of a cookie. “You know, they schedule like every minute of your life there.”
“You do look weirdly good in orange, too,” I add, taking a bite of the most delicious fucking thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.
“The waiter was watching me. It was like he knew what we were doing.”
“Maybe he wanted to watch,” I add as if it strengthens my argument.
“You’re reckless,” he smiles.
“You’re boring,” I shoot back without missing a beat.
“She’s got a point, Vin. The most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done was get a rat tattoo after seeing Ratatouille for the first time.”
“I like routine! Sue me.” Vince steals the other half of Ollie’s cookie from her hand and shoves it in his mouth. “Speaking of, we should make a plan for tomorrow. A hike, then lunch, then maybe the lake—”
“Look at him. Scheduling fun,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
Ollie laughs. “He can’t help it. He was born with a calendar for a soul.”
“Excuse me for valuing order,” Vince says, defensively. “I like clarity!”
“You like predictability,” I correct.
“Fine.” He points at me like he’s about to prove something. “You think I don’t do spontaneous? Watch this. Right now I’m—”
“Overthinking?” I finish for him.
“Trying to calculate the most efficient spontaneous action?” Ollie adds sweetly.
Vince glares at both of us. “This is slander.”
“This is accurate,” Ollie says, unapologetic.
“You can have routine and still allow yourself some indulgence in random recklessness,” I argue, part of me expressing real emotion now.
“Oh, I didn’t realize you’re an expert in spontaneity,” Vince says, a smirk forming at the corners of his mouth.
He knows how feral I am right now. Pent up and edged for hours. He’s playing me like a deck of cards. Half of me wants to crawl across the table and sink my teeth into his bottom lip. The other half acts instead.
“You want spontaneous—” I say, my body humming with the type of electricity that only appears when you’re about to do something reckless.
I lean across the corner of the kitchen island, grab Ollie by the face, and crash my lips into hers.
For a brief second, we’re unmoving. Ollie is rigid and unyielding. Shocked by my advance, no doubt. A moment of panic overwhelms me, but before I can break away, Ollie stands from her chair, our lips barely parting.
“Finally,” she moans as she kisses me back.
A messy and desperate press of lips and tongue that tastes like chocolate and sin. Her hands slide up my body to pull me closer by the back of my neck, her tongue claiming my mouth in the most primal way possible.
My body explodes as her hands tangle in my hair, and suddenly everything makes sense, and the world feels like it’s spinning just for us.
The ache between my legs hits critical overload, and for the second time tonight, I feel myself about to explode.
Suddenly, Ollie breaks from the kiss and takes a step back, her hands covering her mouth, her brows furrowed, and her eyes wide. Her cheeks are a fiery shade of red.
“Fuck!” she hisses, looking between Vince and me. “I’m…I didn’t…umm…I’m so sorry…I...”
I tear my eyes from Ollie and swallow hard as they fall on Vince, who is looking at Ollie with new eyes. Eyes that I’ve never seen on him before.
Ollie claps her hand over her mouth when neither of us speaks a word, like she’s about to throw up, and stumbles her way out of the kitchen, her footsteps pounding up the stairs.
“Vince,” I whisper, barely audible. I’ve never done anything like this before.
“What was that?” he asks, but his tone isn’t accusatory; it's curious.
“I don’t know! I swear I don’t know. I was just thinking about dinner, and being spontaneous, and her mouth was right there…”
“Have you ever thought about doing that before?”
I take a moment to catch my breath before answering. The last thing I should do right now is lie to his face.
“Would you hate me if I said yes?”
“Of course not,” he replies, pushing off from the counter and walking toward me. “I just want to know where your head is at.”
My chin quivers as the guilt settles deep in my gut. “I’m so sorry. It was stupid. I’m so stupid.” My words are spilling out faster and faster.
“Hey! Hey! Stop that,” he demands, pulling me into his arms. “You’re not stupid. You’re human.”
His fingers brush my hair back from my face, his touch grounding me in the moment.
"You're not mad?" I ask, my voice trembling.
Vince exhales slowly, his thumbs brushing my cheeks as he studies my face. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t think so. No.”
The weight of what just happened presses down on me like a physical force. Ollie's kiss still lingers on my lips, warm and electric, and I can't decide if I should feel guilty or exhilarated.
“I don’t deserve you,” I whisper.
“You deserve more,” he corrects, and kisses my forehead. “And right now, you’re going to show me how much you liked it,” he says, slipping his hand under my skirt. “Show me how much you liked the taste of my best friend.”
Oh, fuck.
I bite my lip, torn between guilt and shame, but there is a comfort in knowing he’s about to feel just how much I like the way his best friend tastes.