Chapter 11 #2
“I did not do that on purpose,” he says through clenched teeth, trying to block me from the onlooking crowd.
“Which makes it even better. Your subconscious knew. Donkey time meant dong out.”
“My . . . my dong was not out,” he whispers.
“But it felt a breeze, didn’t it?” I cough out a peal of laughter, my cheeks hurting.
“You’re real mature. You know that?” He snags the chicken tenders from me and takes a bite of one.
“I’m really not.” I laugh some more, now starting to hee-haw like my friend behind me. “I just . . . cannot believe you had your fly down.” I dab at my eyes. “It’s just such poetic beauty.”
“Glad you’re entertained.”
He moves away from me, and I push off the fence and catch up to him, looping my arm through his again. “Don’t be salty.”
“Easy for you to say, you aren’t the donkey pervert.”
My lip trembles.
I attempt to choke down my laughter, but it’s no use, and I burst out once again. After a few seconds, I say, “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” he replies, but this time, there’s a smile in his voice, and I know I have free range to laugh as much as I want now.
* * *
“I bet your fans think you’re this cool guy, a real hockey hero with enough swagger to bag every woman in Vancouver, when, in reality, you’re kind of a dork.”
Silas licks his ice cream cone and says, “As long as they believe I have swagger, that’s all that matters.”
“Not going to fight against the dork comment?”
He shakes his head. “You’ve seen me at my worst now. No point.”
I lick my ice cream as well and lean my head against his shoulder. “If this is you at your worst, then what does it say about me that I like you the best like this?”
He pauses, then puts his arm around me, pulling me close. “That maybe you’re a dork yourself.”
“That’s actually very accurate. I didn’t think anything about me was cool when growing up. I was not popular, did not have or follow the latest trends, and I was never asked out by anyone.”
“Hard to believe,” he says.
“It’s true. I don’t think I hit my stride until college. And that’s when Yonny came along, and we know how successful that relationship was.”
“The makings of long-lasting love,” he jokes as his hand drapes around my arm, and his thumb slowly caresses my skin.
The light touch sends a wave of chills up my arms. Even during the years I was with Yonny, he never touched me like this, yet it comes so naturally to Silas, and we’re not even together.
“Yes. Man, could you imagine if I was still with him, if I married him? That would be weird. What would my life be like?”
“What would my life be like if I married Sarah?” he asks.
“Treacherous,” I answer. “Especially since she didn’t appreciate what she had.”
“I could say the same about Yonny.”
“Yeah, he definitely didn’t appreciate me. I mean . . . I love sucking dick, and he never let me play.”
Silas lightly chuckles. “If you were mine, I’d let you play any goddamn time you wanted.”
“Such a shame I’m only pretend yours, huh?”
“Yeah . . . a shame.” He sighs. “But I appreciate what we have. It’s made life a bit easier.”
“I agree,” I say, even though in the back of my head, I have this little voice saying ask for more .
Because I’m curious. I’m curious what it would be like to have his lips as my own.
I’m curious what it feels like to hold his hand—not for pretend but for real.
And I’m curious what it would be like to sit in this moment with him, eating ice cream, and then to simply kiss his jaw just because I can.
“Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we were more?” I ask, just as a wave of nerves hits me from what he might say.
“No,” he answers, and my heart falls. “But only because if I did, I’m not sure I’d be able to hold back.”
“I knew you were falling in love with me.”
“Jesus,” he huffs before taking a bite of his ice cream cone.
I chuckle because that’s better than swooning. “But only because if I did, I’m not sure I’d be able to hold back.” I need a comeback. “Just admit it, Taters.”
“Yup, I’m falling madly, deeply, so far in love with you, Oliana, that I can barely breathe when you’re near.”
“See . . . I knew it.”
I can practically hear his eyes roll.
* * *
“Thank you for coming with me today,” I say as we’re in the car. “I needed the company.”
“You did?” he asks when he glances over at me while at a red light.
“Yeah . . . it’s actually the anniversary of my grandma’s death today, and I always try to do something fun.”
“Ollie,” he says, his brow furrowed as he reaches over and takes my hand in his. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Didn’t want you to join me because you felt bad for me. I guess I just wanted a normal day, you know?”
“Yeah, I get that.” He brings the back of my hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to my knuckles. It’s new, and I know he’s doing it as a friend to reassure me that he’s there for me, but it doesn’t stop the butterflies that take off in my stomach.
We sit in silence, my hand in his as we drive through the streets of Vancouver back to my dorm.
I think about the day and how I teased him awfully but couldn’t stop.
How he joked around too, but not as mercilessly as me.
How we shared ice cream, his arm wrapped around me protectively.
How he tried to shield me from fans vying for his attention.
God, he’s popular. The incident with the donkey . . .
It was a mishmash of crazy, by no means a perfect day, but in my heart, it felt perfect.
And that scares me because I feel all warm inside.
He pulls into my dorm parking lot, his hand still holding mine, and instead of dropping me off, he parks his car instead.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m not going to let you be alone. I’ll come up to your room.”
He goes to exit his car, but I stop him. “No. That’s okay. You don’t need to do that.”
“Ollie,” he says, giving me a look as he turns toward me.
“I appreciate the gesture, but if you didn’t know about my grandma, would you have just dropped me off?” He goes to answer, but I add, “Don’t lie to me.”
He huffs out a heavy breath and looks away.
“That’s what I thought. Don’t treat me differently. I’m really okay. I had fun, and I appreciate you going to the zoo with me and making me laugh . . . even if it was at your expense.”
He turns toward me again and says, “No thank you is necessary. We’re here for each other.”
“Not like this,” I say.
“Yes, like this,” he answers as he cups my cheek, his warm, rough palm acting as a comfort blanket.
I lean in to his touch. “This wasn’t part of the deal,” I say.
“Neither was you showing your ass in the sauna, but that happened.”
“Still thinking about that?” I ask.
“Ollie, I’ll be thinking about that for a really fucking long time.”
His thumb rubs over my cheek, and for some reason, I lean toward him, wetting my lips.
My body is reacting to his touch.
To his soft voice.
To his gentleness.
To our proximity.
“Were you mad I left? Would you have preferred I stayed in the sauna with you?”
He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’m not sure I should answer that.”
“Because you’re afraid the truth will scare me?” I ask as I glance at his lips.
“No,” he answers as his jaw ticks with tension. “Because we shouldn’t be talking about that.”
“You brought it up,” I say, leaning in closer.
His eyes glance at my lips and then back up, the tension in the car so palpable that I actually can taste it.
I can taste him.
“It’s ingrained in my brain.” His thumb drags over my cheek, down to my mouth, where he tugs on my bottom lip. His body inches closer, and I prepare myself for his kiss.
It’s not like we haven’t kissed before, but this feels different.
This feels real.
This feels like we’re about to cross a line.
I hold my breath, my eyes connected to his.
What I wouldn’t give to taste him again.
To feel his lips against mine.
To have him tug on my hair with his strong hand as he angles my mouth for better pressure.
He takes a deep breath, his eyes flitting back and forth between my eyes and my lips.
God, just do it.
Just kiss me.
End this pounding, aching, searing feeling pulsing through my veins.
And when he leans in another inch, I feel my heart stop...just as he pulls away, putting so much space between us that a wave of cold trickles down my spine, as well as embarrassment.
He pushes his hand through his hair and then swears under his breath before gripping the steering wheel.
“Uh, do you want me to walk you up to your room?”
I blink a few times, trying to regain my composure as I shake my head. “Uh, no, that’s okay.”
“Okay,” he says awkwardly.
“Well . . .” I open the door. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, thanks.” He looks straight ahead. “Have a good night.”
Needing to end the awkwardness, I leave the car and head straight to my building, where I push through the heavy doors and take the stairs up to my floor, not wanting to wait for the elevator.
When I reach my room, I let out a large sigh and lean against my door.
God . . . he almost kissed me.
So close.
And I wanted him to.
Badly.
Fuck . . .
Needing to get the smell of the zoo off me, I strip down to nothing and turn on my shower.
I take a long, steam-filled shower, making sure to scrub every part of my body.
I scrub for longer than I usually do, and I’m not sure if I’m scrubbing to get the zoo off me or if I’m trying to scrub the thought of Silas almost kissing me out of my head.
Either way, I smell heavily of lavender, and I still can’t stop thinking about Silas.
When I step out of the shower, I wrap the towel around my torso and lotion up before heading into the main part of my room. I drop the towel and flop back on my bed, naked.
Staring up at the ceiling, I feel my body itching, needing that release, so I reach over to my nightstand just as my phone lights up with a text.
Silas.
I grab my phone and my vibrator and lay back down on the bed. I check the text first.
Silas: I’m sorry.
That’s it.
That’s all he said. Not sure I would expect more. I’m usually the one leading the conversation.
Ollie: Sorry for what? Almost kissing me?
Silas: Yes.
With one hand, I take the vibrator and move it down to my slit as I part my thighs.
With the other hand, I text him back.
Ollie: I wanted it just as much as you.
Silas: Ollie . . . don’t.
I switch on my vibrator.
Ollie: Don’t what?
Silas: You’re tempting me again.
Ollie: Tempting you would be telling you that as I text right now, my other hand is holding a vibrator against my clit.
I sink into the feel of the vibration, knowing damn well it’s not going to take long.
Silas: Fuck . . . don’t say that shit.
Ollie: Why? Does it turn you on?
Silas: You know damn well it does.
Ollie: Well . . . let it turn you on. You might not be able to kiss me, but you sure as hell can dream about it. Happy masturbating, Silas.
Silas: Fuck . . . me.
I drop my phone to the side and smile to myself as my orgasm starts to climb.
Not sure what’s happening between us, but what I do know is that I’m getting under his skin. At this point, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.