Chapter 23Olivia
Olivia
“Urgh,” I grunt, planting my cheek on the wood of the table. “I seriously don’t know how authors do this. I’ve been staring at my computer screen for an hour, and all I have to show for it are character names and a list of random ass scenes I want to include.”
Lauren stands across from me, her lower back against the kitchen counter as she cradles her coffee mug in both hands. “You literally just started thinking about your first story. Rome wasn’t built in a day.”
I blow out a breath, fanning the strands of hair laying over my eye. “Authors. Completely underrated.”
“Look at it this way: You have your full-time job with great pay and benefits, so this is just a passion now. You’re your own boss. Why place this ridiculous pressure on yourself?”
My head pops up before I close the lid of my laptop. “I hate it when you’re right. Stop doing that. It’s just obnoxious now,” I order flatly.
She smirks against the rim of her ceramic cup, shifting her weight on one hip in her ribbed sweatpants. “You make it so easy though.”
“Uh huh.” I cross my legs Indian-style, picking up my breakfast before slumping back into the chair. One palm snuggles the bowl while I shovel a spoonful of Cinnamon Toast Crunch through my lips. “Hey, is tonight going to be a repeat of last Saturday when you ditched me for your coworkers?”
She stabs a finger in my direction, her messy bun shimmying on the top of her head. “We’re not going to his brewery.”
My face twists with offense.
“I know exactly what you were thinking.” Now she’s trudging in her slippers over to the table. “And all I have to say is one word— girlfriend .”
My gaze drops, and I release my spoon to absently play with the hem of my biker shorts. “According to my investigation over the last week, and neurotic examinations, I think they may be on the rocks.”
I flick the spandex against my skin just as Lauren’s warning cuts through the thick air. “Liv.”
I release a frustrated sigh and toss my head back. “Is it so terrible that I want to be around him?”
“You want to be under him,” she counters.
I purse my lips to the side, staring into the ivory ceiling. “I’d settle to be on top.”
“Liv!”
My eyes roll as I lift my head back up. “You’re no fun,” I groan, scooping another bite of cereal. “I’ll leave tonight’s extravaganza up to you. You have my word.”
“A casual bar with live music it is.”
When Lauren disappears into the short hallway toward her bedroom, I’m left staring at the dark walnut cabinets. I slip another spoonful through my lips, the cinnamon flavor blasting around my tongue as my body sinks with displeasure.
Cade hasn’t reached out since our last encounter at The Grind, and the restraint on my impulses are beginning to wear thin. It’s the reason I have my phone stuffed in my nightstand while I eat breakfast to live in the real world.
Well, at least I’m attempting to.
Every time my phone screen shines at me, the urge to tap on his contact is insufferable. I’m respecting him and her, but I consider Cade’s response to my question. And the more the stars align for Cade and me, the more their blinding lights shine on the twisted truth.
I eventually have to tell Cade who I am, but now, I’m sucked in too deep for his reaction to be all peachy. I’m pretty positive he won’t appreciate the omission of information, especially given the way I’ve crow-barred my way into his life.
With a very meticulous plan.
God, I’m an awful human being.
My face contorts at the thought, swallowing the last of my breakfast before rising to my feet.
If and when our relationship reaches a more profound level, I’ll know when the time is right. For now, I guess I’ll just have to see where the stars take us.
The live guitarist strums the chords of the opening of “All Along the Watchtower,” and my body swivels in the stool at the bar. I raise my Moscow Mule to clink to Lauren’s Long Island Iced Tea, drawing a sip right after.
A blend of vodka and ginger sinks down my throat, the strike of liquid courage being exactly what I need. “You want to dance?” I ask Lauren.
I love fucking with her.
Her brows knit as if I’ve just asked her to strip naked. “What? No. Ew.”
I lean into her, peering up through my curled lashes. “I’m kidding.” When I sit back up, I swoop my drink to my lips. “I’m not in the mood to ride in an ambulance tonight from your heart attack.”
“Okay, but where did you get this shirt?” she asks, her fingertips dancing along the bell sleeve of my top.
“Ah.” I flash my wrist, twisting it side to side. “Lulu’s. Isn’t it adorable?”
“So adorable that I’m about to shop their website right now.” Her lips wrap around the straw in her cocktail glass.
“I figured since you were going to be taking me to the world’s most mundane dive bar, I had to make up for it in clothing,” I tease.
“What?” Her hand pokes around at our surroundings. “You don’t like the neon signs and bumper stickers on the wood walls?”
“Uhm …” I tilt my head for dramatic effect. “I don’t like being suffocated by cigarette smoke.”
Her shoulder pops beneath her velvet blouse. “Well, I think it has charm.”
I pivot in my stool to prop my elbows on the counter. My mule is cradled in both palms now, eyes catching the anchor-shaped neon sign bolted to the wall behind the bar.
What else would I expect from a bar called The Rusty Anchor?
“Cade smokes,” I blurt flatly.
“Excuse me?” Lauren gasps, feigning shock. “Your knight in shining armor smells like this bar you just insulted? The nerve.”
I shake my head, jaw screwing tight as I gulp down the ginger liquid.
“He doesn’t smell like this bar.” Then I consider the night we were under the spreading tree.
“I mean, maybe for a split second when he actually smokes, but then it’s automatically replaced by that intoxicating manly scent we get hypnotized by. You know the kind.”
“Oh, yes, yes.”
My hands set my drink on the bar top, and then I’m turning my attention to her. “The smoking doesn’t turn me off. How weird is that?”
“So, if you wind up with him, you’re just going to welcome this smoking habit of his?”
“God, no,” I sneer. “I’ll kick him in the balls. Aversion therapy will be in full swing.”
We both snicker, taking sips of our respective cocktails. And just as I catch her dark eyes under the neon lights, I’m leaning toward her again. “I am having a good time, you know. Thanks for bringing me out.”
Her delicate fingers tuck my hair behind my ear. “I know,” she says before flashing a tight-lipped smile.
I grin as I straighten my posture, and then she’s eyeing me skeptically.
“Unless, wait …” she trails off. “Did you just say that so I would forgive you when you text Cade tonight?”
I didn’t.
“Thanks for the idea,” I retort.
“Olivia. Rose. Sawyer.”
My eyes gape as I dart a finger at her chest. “A friendly text. You need to have more faith in my morals, what is up with this?”
“Now what? I’m just supposed to turn a blind eye while you sabotage your own heart?” she challenges.
“Yes,” I demand with a single bob of my head. “That is exactly what your job is.”
Now her brown gaze expands, a finger planted at her chest. “And then I’m supposed to pick up the pieces after? Am I getting this right?”
I narrow my eyes through a glint of humor. “You know, if you didn’t want the job as my best friend, you should’ve read the fine print more intricately.” My body rotates on the stool to sip on my mule. “When you think about it, this is really your own fault.”
“Okay,” she starts. “You would just sit back and let me get fucked over by a guy?”
“You’re smarter than me, I don’t have to worry.”
“If I wasn’t?” she pushes.
I mumble timidly over the rim of the copper mug. “Sure.”
I jolt when the back of her hand slaps my arm. “You’re such a liar! You would never.”
Our wide eyes shine at each other, mouths opened in disbelief. “Can you just for one second let me be stupid?”
Her lips seal as she flips a palm upward, and she’s turning in her seat to babysit her drink. “Fine, do it. Be that girl.”
“Good. I will be her,” I volley back, retrieving my phone from my belt bag on the bar top. My concentration slides between my text thread and Lauren, our eyes greeting each other in some sort of showdown under the shadowy lighting.
Until my thumbs go to work.
Me: I started writing.
Once I hit send, I roll my phone over on the counter and hug my drink in my hands.
“I’ll have you know that I will laugh in your face before feeling sorry for you,” Lauren claims.
“Permission granted,” I simply say.