Meant for Now

17. Frankie

SEVENTEEN

Frankie

“So this is the place?” I asked, stepping into the tiny studio apartment.

While I’d hoped the night might lead here, I hadn’t wanted to assume anything. Even though going home with a guy was something I hardly did, Oliver had a way of completely calming me down. My nerves from earlier had evaporated by this point. He’d shared more with me on this date than he ever had before. I felt like I was in—like I was in some special secret Oliver society with an ultra-exclusive membership.

“This is it.” He held up his hands and spun around the small space. “Want the tour? It’s a short one.”

I stumbled out of my boots, my entire body buzzing with anticipation.

“This is the kitchen,” he said, pointing. “And this is the living room. This is my bed. And that’s basically it.”

I forced my eyes not to linger on his bed as I stepped into his space, taking it in. To my extreme relief, the place was tidy. The bed was made and there was no trash lying around. When I caught sight of a duffel bag spilling over with clothes on the bench at the end of his bed, I froze.

“Packing?” I asked, pointing to it. The last day of the season was this Saturday. I knew we hadn’t exactly talked about it, but I thought for sure he’d tell me when he was leaving.

“Oh, ah.” He scratched the back of his neck. “That’s my bag from when I got here. I never bothered unpacking.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You’ve been here for over three weeks.”

He shrugged, giving me a sheepish grin. “I never unpack on trips.”

“But…but you’ve done laundry, right?”

Oliver’s head fell back as he laughed at my concerned expression. “Yes, Frankie. I’ve done laundry. I just toss it back on the bench when it’s clean.”

My mouth parted in shock as I walked over to the set of drawers standing next to the bed and opened one. “This is a perfectly good dresser, and it’s right here. Arguably closer to the washer and dryer.” I pointed to where the appliances were housed next to the bathroom. “Why can’t you dump your stuff here?”

Oliver rolled his eyes, clearly amused by how appalled I was. In one fell swoop, he went to the bench, scooped his clothes up, walked over to the dresser, and dropped his stuff into the awaiting drawer. “Happy?” he asked.

“Ecstatic,” I said flatly.

He grabbed me around the waist, and I looked up into his eyes. He dipped down to kiss the top of my head.

“Alright,” he said, releasing me but grabbing my hand and tugging me to the kitchen. “Since I so abruptly ended our date, let me see what I have in here for food.”

He gripped my waist and I let out a small squeal as he effortlessly lifted me onto the countertop. I watched him dig around in his cabinets. Being in his space felt more intimate than I’d expected. Like I was getting some sort of behind-the-scenes peek into his life.

“So, plans,” I said carefully, wanting to keep the moment light, but also desperately wanting to know more about where he’d be going next. “I haven’t exactly helped you come up with any.”

Oliver produced a sleeve of crackers and handed them to me. I took one and nibbled on it, trying to play it cool as I waited for his response.

“Helping me come up with a plan was always going to be a losing battle.”

I swallowed and took another cracker from the sleeve. “But you said you aren’t going back to Denver. You must have some idea of what you want to do next.”

He shrugged. “I’ve reached out to a few people I know. I’m sure I’ll find some gig for the summer.”

The summer. He didn’t have anything lined up yet. Even though I found little comfort in that, it made me feel better to know that hopefully he wasn’t traipsing out of here the second his last snowboarding lesson ended. I should come right out and ask him.

“How many more lessons do you have left?” I asked.

“Why? Trying to book one more for yourself?” he teased, poking me in the ribs.

“No,” I said, feeling slightly frustrated he turned every attempt at conversation into a joke. Typically, I liked that quality about him. But the fact that I couldn’t even broach the subject of him leaving, or figure out where we stood, was starting to get annoying.

At this point, it was obvious to me that this was Oliver’s coping mechanism. He avoided the hard stuff by constantly being the fun, chill guy. I knew he wouldn’t change—not for me anyway. But some of the topics I thought were light, he still chose to avoid.

“I’ll squeeze you in if you want. I promise, no more injured wrists,” he continued.

“I’m good,” I said.

His face fell as he noticed my annoyance. “Everything okay?” Oliver asked. His voice sounded completely different when he wasn’t joking. Deeper.

“Yep.” I forced a smile.

“Frankie.” He tipped my chin up so that I’d be forced to look at him.

It was almost as if we were on the brink of something incredible, yet if I said even remotely the wrong thing, he’d never speak to me again.

Oliver’s eyes scanned mine and his jaw clenched. “Talk to me,” he whispered.

“Are you sure you want that?” I asked quietly.

That seemed to catch him off guard because he loosened his hold on my chin.

I half expected him to say that he did want that. To beg me to talk to him. To say something real and ask me what’s going on. But Oliver being Oliver, he did none of that.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his tone pained.

Suddenly, the tiles of his kitchen floor were the most fascinating thing in the world to me. My head felt heavy and the idea of meeting his eyes twisted my insides.

Oliver’s fingers brushed underneath my chin. He used the tiniest bit of force to tilt my face up. While his eyes still looked dark and serious, the corner of his mouth twitched. “You can’t even look at me now? Damn. I must have really messed up.”

“You didn’t mess up,” I said.

“The fact that I can’t even imagine you smiling right now says otherwise. You’re looking at me like I’m a huge disappointment, and I can’t take that.”

“I just…” I started before biting my lip.

Oliver moved his hand from my chin to cup my cheek. “Go on.”

“I never know what to say to you. You’re like my favorite person I’ve met since moving here. My life is completely falling apart right now, and you’re the one thing keeping me from crumbling.” I trembled as I continued to talk. “But I don’t feel like I can say that to you. And I don’t feel like I can ask you any questions about yourself or tell you anything real because you might bolt again. And I’m terrified that winter is ending, and I have no idea what that means for you. Are you leaving Key Ridge? Are you even planning on saying goodbye? But then I feel like an obsessive creep for even caring that much. I should be cool and say see you when I see you . Or stay in touch. But I’m not the cool girl. I’m the girl that obsesses. And right now, the idea of you leaving is all I can think about. I don’t want to ruin tonight, but I can’t fake some small talk or joke around with you, because it hurts too much not to know.”

Oliver’s hand didn’t drop from my cheek like I was worried it would. Instead, his grip tightened as his fingers moved to wrap around my neck and his thumb remained on my cheek.

“You can talk to me, Frankie. I’m sorry I made you feel like you can’t.” He closed his eyes and sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m…” His words trailed off before he groaned and tipped his head back, letting out a bitter laugh in the process. “Fuck. I’m so bad at this. But you already knew that.”

“I don’t care if you’re bad at it,” I said, inching closer to him. “We don’t have to have these serious, deep conversations where we dissect your past.” Even as I said the words, I knew desperately that I did in fact want to do just that. “I want to know if you’re leaving when the ski hill closes and your lessons are over,” I finished.

There. That was a start. With Oliver, we had to start small. And small meant figuring out how soon I had to say goodbye to him. Whatever happened, I wanted to be prepared. I had grown attached to seeing him at Marie’s and to our little rituals. I had become addicted to his soft kisses and the way he looked in his snowboarding jacket. Theoretically, he was a fling and this phase of my life was fleeting. But regardless, I still needed to know just how fleeting it was. I needed to prepare myself. This goodbye was going to be a lot harder than I wanted to let myself believe.

“I don’t know.”

His words flattened the optimistic anticipation blooming in my chest.

As if noticing my crestfallen face, Oliver gave a small shake of his head. “I’ve been trying nonstop to think about what’s next for me.” He sighed and dropped his hands from my face. “But nothing feels right. None of it feels like what I want to do.”

“You just got here. Maybe you haven’t stayed in Key Ridge long enough to figure out what you want your next move to be.” The hopefulness in my voice made me want to puke. I wasn’t the romantic in the family. That was reserved for Mattie. Right now, though, I wanted to say anything and everything that would get Oliver to consider staying. Just for a little while longer. We’d barely had any time together in the grand scheme of life.

“I don’t know what I’m doing next,” he finally said. “I don’t know if I’m leaving… But I don’t want to. Not yet.”

The last words reignited the hope within me, but I didn’t dare look too excited.

“Good,” I said simply .

That got him to shake his head and let out a low chuckle. “That’s all you have to say?”

I shrugged and put my best “unaffected look” on my face. “I think you should stay. No point in leaving if you haven’t figured out what you want next. And no better person to help you figure that out than someone who obsessively plans for her future.” I waved to myself.

Before I could continue on my tirade, Oliver slipped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled my face to his, kissing me. His smell always overwhelmed me anytime he was this close. I wasn’t sure when I would get used to him. Butterflies still fluttered every time he touched me, and it didn’t look like that would be going away any time soon.

When he pulled away after a minute, I licked my lips breathlessly. He stayed, his face hovering close to mine. He tugged a piece of hair that framed my face and shook his head.

“It’s okay to just say you’ll miss me, you know,” he said.

I let out a surprised laugh, and he rewarded me with another kiss before pulling back.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I said, not wanting to admit to myself how much truth there was in his words. I nervously leaned away from him and started to eat the crackers he’d produced from the cabinet a minute ago. “You know this is a sad excuse for a snack, right?” I held it up in disapproval.

Oliver smiled. “I don’t like to keep a lot of snacks around. I’ll eat them all.”

No wonder he was always eating dinner at Marie’s.

“The point of having snacks is to eat them, silly.” I poked him in the chest, and he kissed my forehead. Just like that, the seriousness of our conversation had evaporated.

“I have to stay in shape.”

“I think the insane amount of snowboarding you do has got you covered in that department.” I prodded his abs, which were rock solid.

“Hey!” He squirmed away from me.

“Don’t tell me you’re ticklish,” I said, reaching out and pinching his side.

He swatted my hand away, laughing, before jumping toward me and tickling my sides. A squeal escaped me as I writhed on the countertop, but Oliver didn’t relent.

“I give. I give,” I choked out, and he finally stepped back, still hovering above me.

There was a palpable change between us as Oliver stared at me, our faces only inches apart. Everything was charged and something deep in my gut flipped.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he whispered while I caught my breath. I was sure my face was completely beet red at this point.

His eyes studied mine before he dipped his head and kissed me.

I lingered, savoring every second of this. I’d never been kissed the way Oliver kissed me. Both with the comfort of familiarity, as if we’d known each other for years, and the electric thrill that only came with someone new. He always touched my face and I liked how connected it made me feel to him. I craved it.

Leaning my whole body into him while still balancing on the countertop, I deepened the kiss. He brought his hand down, letting his arms cage me on either side. All I had to do was scooch a few inches forward and I’d get that contact I so desperately wanted.

When he slipped his tongue into my mouth, I decided to stop denying myself. I grabbed his arms and tugged him toward me at the same time I scooted forward on the countertop. As soon as we made contact, I moaned into his mouth. I could feel how hard he was for me, and I wanted more. Judging from the way Oliver removed his hands from the counter to wrap them around my waist and bring me closer to him, I wasn’t the only one affected by the contact.

I had been thinking about this for weeks. Maybe since I first met Oliver, if I was being honest with myself. I grasped at the bottom of his shirt and started to pull upward, revealing his abs that I wished I could spend all evening tracing.

His hands fell to the top of my ass and he squeezed. I grinded into him, eager to explore this further.

But then, as fast as we started, Oliver pulled away and gave a reluctant shake of his head. “Maybe we should slow down.” His voice was gruff, as if he could barely get the words out.

“W-what?” I asked, baffled.

He was practically physically restraining himself from me and I wanted nothing more than to leap from this counter and straddle him. Slowing down was the last thing on my mind.

He dragged a hand down his face, looking completely tortured. “Because I like you,” he said in a pained manner.

I snorted, those being the last words I expected to come out of his mouth right now. “Um. Yeah, that’s usually a catalyst to moments like these, not a deterrent.”

“Damn it,” he hissed, frustration written all over his face. “It’s just—I just… Fuck.” He balled his fists and rubbed them against his eyes before pacing the small kitchen.

His reaction sobered my desires slightly. Rejection from Oliver had been the last thing I expected and it was hitting me hard. Sure, the date might have ended messy, but I thought we’d come to the conclusion that we wanted each other. He’d been giving me all the signals. Even now, I had no idea what the hell was going on. How could he say he liked me and then back away in the same moment ?

I slid off the counter, unsure of what to do. “Should I go?” I asked, praying he’d say no.

That snapped him out of his daze. He stopped pacing, crossed back to me, and stood in front of me, taking my hands in his. “No, God, please. Don’t go. That’s the last thing I want.”

“You’re being confusing as hell right now.”

“I know,” he groaned.

“What’s going on?” I asked softly. “Why are you pulling away right now?”

“I—I don’t know. I’ve never done this before.”

“Had sex?” I arched an eyebrow, knowing for a fact that was completely false.

“No. Not that.” His eyes searched mine. “After tonight, I’ve shared more with you than I’ve shared with any other girl. I’ve-I’ve never had a real relationship. At the risk of sounding like a total loser, I’ve never done this with a girl I like as much as you. It feels…heavy.”

His admittance sucked the air right out of my lungs.

“Heavy,” I repeated.

“That sounds so fucking stupid,” he grunted. “Shit. I should have kept my mouth shut.”

I thought about all the times Oliver had taken a serious moment and turned it into a joke, or when we’d try to have a deeper conversation and he’d brush it off. He never seemed to feel anything beyond the surface. Somehow, even sex with me had become another extension of that.

Maybe I should have felt insulted by his hesitation to take the next step with me, or maybe I should have been worried that the moment it was over, he’d ghost me and become nothing more than a memory. But I couldn’t bring myself to feel either of those things. Instead, I felt oddly privileged— thrilled, even, that somehow, I’d gotten under his skin in a way no one else ever had.

I thought carefully about what to say next.

“I’ve never liked someone as much as you either,” I admitted, realizing in real time that it was the truth. I’d never been excited about anyone like this before. The way he made me feel should be studied.

Instead of backing away, his gaze hardened into one of determination. “I don’t want to mess anything up.” He brought a hand to my cheek and traced a circle.

“Life is messy. We already established, we’re messy. And that’s okay,” I said.

He laughed. “I never thought you’d be okay with a mess.”

I put my arms around his waist, giving him a squeeze. “We don’t know what’s going to happen next,” I murmured. “But what I do know is that I’m going to combust if you don’t touch me right now.”

That was all it took for his mouth to descend on mine.

This time, I could feel the difference. Any hesitation had evaporated. Instead, there was pure resolve.

He grabbed me by my ass and hoisted me up, back onto the counter. I wrapped my legs around him, impatient to finish what we’d started. As our mouths continued to move together, my body grinded against his, securing him to me. He brought a hand to the edge of my shirt, sliding it up. The feel of his warm hand against my bare skin made me gasp on contact.

The fact that he’d shared something so personal with me only made my desire for him stronger. I couldn’t believe that he saw it as a weakness. To me, it made him seem real. And realness was something I had been sorely missing in my life.

I felt his smile against my mouth as he carefully traced his hand up my stomach, sliding it along the underwire of my bra before cupping one of my breasts. The relief at feeling his touch on me was both decadent and short-lived. Each little bit of progress made me want more of him.

I arched my back and he took that as an invitation to yank my shirt over my head. I followed suit and pulled his shirt up. He pulled away briefly to tug it over his head before returning his touch to my body. He broke the kiss to examine me for a moment. Him drinking me in like I was precious made me simmer under his gaze.

“Fucking perfect,” he muttered, lightly grasping the edge of my bra and tugging it down to free one of my nipples.

I sucked in a breath, before he brought his lips back down to mine. As soon as he pinched my nipple, twirling it between his fingers, my eyes rolled back into my head from the pleasure.

After weeks of imagining what it would be like to finally cross that line with Oliver, to feel his touch on me without him holding back—I felt utterly undone. His touch wasn’t enough. I wanted his mouth on me. I wanted all of him on me.

He pulled the straps of my bra down and yanked the whole thing so it now sat around my waist, leaving me bare for the taking.

And damn it, I wanted to be taken.

He pulled back to examine me again, gave a little smirk, and then dipped his head, taking one of my hard nipples into his mouth.

I moaned the second I felt his tongue and teeth pulling and teasing me. I’d never understood the sentiment that someone could pass out from pleasure, but that’s about where I was currently at right now. And he hadn’t even taken my pants off yet.

The thought suddenly sent a hot pulse wave through me and I grinded against him as he flicked my nipple with his tongue before giving the other one some attention.

He had me—completely had me. I was ready to melt into a puddle right then and there, and I wouldn’t even know what it felt like for him to move inside me.

I ran my shaky hand down along his abs until I reached the top of his pants and undid the button. When I fumbled with the zipper, he took over, wrenching them down easily with one swift tug, and kicking them off. I pressed my hand against the hard bulge in his boxers and was rewarded with the tiniest of bites on my breast before he pulled away and moved to my neck. He brushed his lips against my throat and then my jaw before planting a kiss on my mouth. It was both frenzied and intimate. He wasn’t being rough with me, but the need was clearly there for both of us.

“I can’t believe you’re real,” he said breathlessly, before taking one of his strong hands and stretching my leggings away from my body. I gasped as he dipped his hand below my waistband and slid a finger along me, hitting the exact spot I so desperately needed him to touch. I moved against him, driven purely by instinct at this point. He slid a finger inside me, stretching me slightly before slipping another in.

I moaned, my lips slack against his mouth as my breathing increased.

He pumped them in and out, slowly at first, but then picking up speed. I was fully convinced my body had never felt this turned on in my entire life. I was so freaking attracted to him I couldn’t even contain myself. My body started to go slack as Oliver’s fingers worked inside me. A feeling bloomed inside of me, growing so intense I could barely take it any longer.

“Bed,” he said.

“No,” I panted .

His face scrunched up in confusion and his fingers stopped moving inside me. I nearly let out a groan of protest.

“Don’t stop,” I whimpered.

He grinned. “I’m not taking you on a kitchen countertop, Frankie. At least not for the first time.”

My insides coiled at the thought of this being a repeat occurrence.

He removed his hand from my pants. Before I could protest again, he hoisted me off the counter, my legs wrapped around his bare torso and he took a few long strides to the bed before sprawling me out on it. He fell on top of me, using his arms to pin me in and keep his weight off of me. I greedily grabbed onto the back of his neck. My entire body writhed, dying to feel him against me.

I tugged at his boxers and he chuckled.

“Take these off,” I demanded when I couldn’t reach my arms farther down his legs.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, pulling off his boxers and letting his full length spring free.

“And these.” I pulled at my own pants before he grabbed the waistband and tugged. His biceps bulged as he ripped off my leggings in one quick motion. Now he hovered above me, both of us completely naked.

My core pulsed with need as I took in Oliver balancing above me.

“You sure about this?” he asked, his tone serious.

I traced one of his pecs, relishing the pure bliss of the moment. Nothing could beat this—the way my body hummed in the anticipation of our first time.

Oliver had been right. This did feel heavy.

“Oliver, I have wanted you to jump my bones since basically the first time I met you,” I whispered .

He kissed my forehead before leaning up and reaching for something on his bedside table.

His fingers moved back to my slick center and he slipped his fingers in again, priming me for him. With his teeth, he ripped open a condom and rolled it over his length with his other hand.

He moved back above me.

He wasn’t even inside me yet, and I was already consumed by him. His scent. His being. His everything. It had never been like this for me. Eagerly, I guided him to my entrance, treasuring every millisecond before I finally got to feel him move inside me. His tip slowly pressed into me, easing in inch by inch until he was inside me completely. My body welcomed him. Everything inside me went off like an explosion. He let out a raw, guttural moan the first time he rocked back and forth. My hips met his and the timing was delicious.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he grunted as he slowly moved in and out of me, almost teasing me with his cock.

I met his movements with more desperation, forcing him to pick up his tempo.

The mixture of him inside me and my clit rubbing against his base had my impending orgasm flowering quickly. Maybe I should have been trying to savor this, but I couldn’t stop. Instead, I arched my body up, increasing the friction between us.

He kissed me deeply, as if he was trying to burrow inside of me. I couldn’t focus on one thing. The building pressure as he moved inside me. How passionate his kisses were. How my heart was about to beat out of my chest. I’d never felt this alive. Not ever. Oliver was bringing me to life when I hadn’t even realized I was dead.

He thrust, deeper than I thought possible. I moaned loudly as my nails dug into his back. We were both chasing relief.

“I don’t want to come too soon,” he said breathlessly, stealing a kiss, but not slowing his movements.

“I’m right there too,” I barely managed to pant out.

A few more beautifully synced thrusts and we both toppled over the edge, limbs tangled in one another’s.

I laid there, unable to move as he pulled out and flopped onto the bed next to me. I was floating, coming down from the high.

That was hands down the best sex of my life.

For a second, I wondered if this would be weird. Would Oliver bolt? Would he act strange toward me after all this build up in his mind?

But instead, he leaned over and planted a kiss on my forehead, then one to my lips. “I promise I’ll last longer next time.” He looked down at me like I was something special—like I was his.

“Me too,” I breathed, tilting my head up and kissing him again.

“I like you so freaking much,” he said with a huge grin, before rolling over to spoon me, my head laid against his shoulder.

It wasn’t weird. Not even a little. It was perfect.

And that’s what scared me the most.