Chapter 7
When we stepped off the elevator, Aaron gave Oliver a disapproving look. “Where have you been?” he demanded. Oliver and I had gotten tired of the chicken fighting, so we’d left the boys and returned to the suite.
“Sorry, Aaron. We got lost,” Oliver said with a smirk.
“Where? In a lake?” Aaron asked sarcastically as he took in our wet appearances.
“It was huge,” Oliver said and spread his arms wide to indicate the size.
“I mean, it was probably as big as the ocean. We got stuck in the middle, and there were a killer octopus and poisonous seaweed. I almost drowned when I got a side cramp, but Stella pulled me to shore. It was an amazing rescue, although unfortunately there was no need for mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.”
“Poisonous seaweed?” was Aaron’s only response as we headed inside the penthouse and Oliver shut the door.
“Won’t he go looking for them at the pool?” I asked, turning to Oliver.
He shrugged. “Yeah, probably.”
“So they’ll have to come back up?” I asked, feeling guilty. “I didn’t mean to ruin their fun.”
Oliver threw his wet towel onto a nearby chair. “Just because he knows they’re in the pool doesn’t mean he’ll be able to get them out,” he said.
“You sure?” I asked, running my hands up and down my arms to keep warm. I had left my clothes at the pool, and I suddenly remembered that I was in my bra and underwear with only a small towel wrapped around me. It was cold.
“I promise,” Oliver reassured me. Then he pointed down the hall in the direction of what must have been his room. “You need something to change into?”
I was freezing, and a small pool of water was collecting on the hardwood floor from my still-dripping hair. “That would be perfect.”
When Oliver came back, he was wearing a pair of athletic shorts and a plain, white T-shirt. He handed me an identical pair of shorts and a ratty, black cutoff tee. I raised an eyebrow at Oliver as I held up the shirt.
“Sorry,” he said, a small blush tingeing his cheeks. “It was the smallest shirt I could find.”
“I suppose I can’t be a chooser,” I said and shrugged.
When I dropped my towel to pull the shirt over my head, Oliver looked away.
Jamming my arms threw the holes, I quickly put the shirt on.
Even though he said it was small, it still hit me way below the waist. Taking a deep breath, I inhaled Oliver’s scent: laundry detergent and cinnamon.
It was a weird combination, but it still smelled good and I smiled to myself.
Oliver coughed, a silent question as to whether I was done.
Embarrassed, I yanked up the shorts and rolled the waistband a few times. “All right,” I said as I pulled my tangled hair out from the collar of the shirt. Oliver turned back around and stared at me as I stood in his clothes. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing,” he told me. “So, what do you want to do?”
“I don’t know.” I took a step toward the couch, right into the patch of water that had pooled beneath me. As my legs slipped up, my stomach jolted.
“Whoa!” Oliver’s arms shot out, and he pulled me against him before I lost my balance. Adrenaline was still rushing through me, and I stood frozen as I waited for my heart to calm down.
“You okay?” he asked, pulling away slightly so he could look down at me. Both of his hands were still on my arms, and suddenly all I could focus on was the lack of space between us, our chests inches apart. Oliver must have noticed, because he quickly let go and stepped away from me.
I rubbed the sore part of my arm where he had grabbed me, and I looked away. “I’m fine,” I said, and then I took a quick breath. “Talk about a death grip though. You’re like the Hulk.”
This made him grin. “Awesome. The Hulk is my favorite superhero.”
“The Hulk? Really?” I asked. “Why him?”
“’Cause he turns green and explodes out of his clothes. Pure man right there.”
“Personally,” I said, “I don’t like my men green.”
“Fine. Who’s your favorite superhero?”
“Superheroes. I like Scooby-Doo and the gang.”
“They aren’t superheroes. They don’t have any powers.”
“Neither does Batman, but he still counts,” I countered. “Besides, Scooby-Doo always catches the bad guy.”
“Which is pretty amazing, considering they’re a bunch of stoners.”
“Oh my God, Oliver! Take that back!” Nobody insults Scooby-Doo.
“Come on, that show was right out of the seventies. Look at the Mystery Machine. Total hotbox, and Shaggy and Scooby always had a serious case of the munchies.”
I plugged my ears. “You are ruining my favorite childhood TV show!”
Oliver’s laugh was loud and full, and he clutched his stomach with both hands. “Sorry, sorry,” he said as he slowly calmed down. “I’ll stop.”
“Too late,” I told him and slumped down onto the couch. “Damage already done.”
“Let me make it up to you,” he said, sitting down next to me. “We can watch your favorite movie.”
I nodded. A movie was an acceptably easy activity. “Okay, but nothing scary. I hate horror movies.”
Oliver laughed. “Yeah, I totally pegged you as a chick-flick type of girl.”
“Oh really?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” he said and scooted closer to me. “I bet I can name your top three movies.”
“Let’s hear it then,” I said and crossed my arms over my chest.
“First, The Notebook. Every girl loves The Notebook. It’s a no-brainer.” Oliver confidently stretched and draped his arm around my shoulder.
“All right, next,” I said without letting him know if he was right.
“Next, Titanic because Jack represents the kind of guy that every girl wants.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because he shows that if you truly love someone, you’ll do anything for them. I mean, he knows he can’t have a relationship with Rose, yet he never stops fighting for her and eventually dies for her. Not to mention that he’s played by Leonardo DiCaprio.”
“Got the hots for Leo?” I teased and poked him on the chest.
“He’s a bit old for me.”
“All right,” I said with a laugh. “Final movie.”
“Definitely something Disney,” Oliver said, stroking his chin. “Girls love Disney. I’m guessing Cinderella.”
“Oh yeah?” Oliver was wrong on all accounts, but his explanations were funny.
“Because you girls like that Prince Charming, knight-in-shining-armor crap,” he said and shook his head, dismissing it as nonsense.
“I see,” I told him and hide a smile.
“So, how did I do?” He perked up in his seat, waiting to hear that he’d gotten them all right.
“I’ve never seen The Notebook. The Goonies is my all-time favorite.”
Oliver frowned for a second before he replaced that look with a certain smile. “Okay, so I got two out of three, right?”
“My second favorite is Interview with the Vampire. Brad Pitt is way hotter than Leo, and besides, he’s a real vampire. None of that sparkly shit.”
Surprisingly, Oliver didn’t seem upset when I told him he’d guessed another movie wrong. Instead, he perked up when I said “Brad Pitt” and “hot.”
“So who’s your celebrity crush?” he asked, changing the subject.
My forehead wrinkled as I contemplated the question. It was hard because there were so many good-looking guys. “Ohhh!” I finally said, getting excited. “Gabriel Grant. One word: mus-cles! He plays a totally sexy werewolf on Immortal Nights.”
“What?” Oliver said, putting a hand to his heart. “A werewolf? How about your friendly, teenage heartthrob?”
“If you are referring to yourself, then no,” I said and choked back a snort.
“Fine, whatever,” he said and crossed his arms. “What’s the last movie?”
“Well, if I have to pick a Disney movie, I’ll go with Hercules. Oh, or Mulan. She’s badass,” I said.
Oliver shook his head. “Jeez, I don’t stand a chance with you, do I?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, your ideal man is a vampire-werewolf hybrid who’s as swift as the coursing river and mysterious as the dark side of the moon.”
I giggled. “And the son of Zeus,” I added, but I supposed Oliver deserved some credit for being able to quote Mulan.
He ran a hand through his hair. “And here I thought being in a band counted for something…”
***
In the end, we settled on watching Skyfall, which Oliver said was his favorite movie.
When we first started watching, there was a good foot of space between us, but somehow it slowly disappeared, shrinking to a half foot, a few inches, and then nothing.
I didn’t remember either of us moving; it was more like the couch dwindled between us.
I didn’t really pay attention to what was happening on-screen—Oliver’s knee was touching mine, and I was hyperaware of the contact. Tingles shot up my entire leg.
He must have been distracted too, because twenty minutes in, he cleared his throat and asked, “So where are you from?”
“Minnesota,” I said, tilting my head so I could see him. For the first time since starting the movie, I was able to relax back into the cushions, because talking took my mind off how close we were sitting. “Minneapolis originally, but my family moved to Rochester a few years ago.”
“We just had a show in Minneapolis.”
“Yeah, my sister really wanted to go,” I said, and then I realized that Oliver might ask why she couldn’t, so I quickly returned his question. “What about you? Where are you originally from?”
Oliver’s eyebrows shot up, like he couldn’t believe I didn’t actually know the answer to my question, but there was an excited gleam in his eyes. His fans must know everything about him, I realized. He probably doesn’t have conversations like this very often.
“JJ, Xander, and I are from Oregon,” he said. “We grew up together and formed a band in high school.” Oliver smiled to himself at a funny memory. “We called ourselves ‘Infinity and Beyond.’”
“I really like that.” If I ever stumbled across a band with that name, I would definitely check them out. “That’s cooler than the Heartbreakers.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized what I’d said and winced.