25. Ollie
Chapter 25
Ollie
Megan's interrogation begins the second I put the van in reverse. “Where are we going? What are we doing?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“I’d have thought you’d have learned this by now, but I really don’t like surprises.”
I throw her a sideways glance while I drive. “Who doesn’t like surprises?”
“ I don’t. I’m a planner, I like routine and familiarity. And control.”
I bite my lip so I don’t say the first thing that comes to mind. I’ve already accidentally confessed to checking her out while she does yoga, she doesn’t need me telling her I wouldn’t mind pushing her out of her comfort zone too.
“I especially don’t like it when you know there’s a surprise coming, but you don’t know what it is,” she continues as we head out of town. “There’s so much pressure knowing you’ve planned something and that I’ll have to react appropriately. I always get my hopes up and end up disappointed.”
Fuck.
I don’t like the idea of disappointing her, or the understanding that there’s precedent here. I wonder how many people have set her up for disappointment in the past. A knot forms in my stomach when I realise I’m about to become one of them.
“Well, maybe keep your expectations low. I literally came up with this ten minutes ago.”
“Can I have a clue?”
“Nope.”
Megan blows a puff of air from her nose and angles her body towards the window. She stays like that until country roads blend into the outskirts of the city, and I can practically hear her brain whirring as she tries to figure out our destination. Her knee bounces as her impatience builds, so I reach into the side pocket of my door and hand her a CD wallet to keep her distracted.
“You can pick the music if you like.”
“CDs? How retro.”
“Your Dad gave them to me when he upgraded to a van with Bluetooth. I'll upgrade my setup, eventually.”
She grunts and switches one CD for another. Nothing in the wallet has a track list, so I don't always know artists and song titles, but the opening bars of Californication are instantly recognisable.
“I used to love this song,” she laughs. “You weren't even born when it came out.”
“So?”
“Just an observation.”
She stows the wallet away and returns her focus to the roads, still trying to figure out where we are. She doesn’t have to wonder for long. There’s no hiding the giant blue building when I pull into the car park.
“IKEA?” Megan shrieks, sitting up and twisting towards me. “Ollie! How is IKEA better than going to bed early?”
She might have a point there. It’s not the most exciting place in the world, but I’m not far off installing the van’s roof panels and I want to get some spotlights so I can cut holes to the correct size.
“Are you serious?” she huffs. “I can’t believe you had the nerve to tell me I’m a sad, pathetic loser who’s wasting her life at home when this is your idea of a date.”
My head snaps in her direction. “Who said anything about a date?”
She turns away just as fast. “No, I know it’s not a date, it’s just… My point still stands. I could have been reading.”
“And I never called you a sad, pathetic loser.”
“It was implied.”
“This isn’t what we’re actually doing, you know? I need to grab a couple of things, and then I promise I’ll make the rest of the evening fun.” She narrows her eyes at me. “You can stay in the van if you like.”
“I’ve been to IKEA before. You’re not getting out of there in under an hour.” She pushes the door open and storms off towards the front entrance.
Megan tries her hardest to stay annoyed as we walk through the marketplace, but I’m determined to make it impossible to hate me. She wants a fun night with her friends, and since they’re nowhere to be seen, I’ll try to be a decent substitute. Even if we probably have very different ideas of fun.
“Would you like a new candle?” I ask, nudging her shoulder with mine. “I know you’ve got about three hundred of them already, but would a new one help you feel better?”
“No, I don’t need a new candle,” she scoffs.
“I’ll get you a bag of mini chocolate bars then. They always cheer me up.”
“I don’t need cheering up.”
“Your face says otherwise.”
“Ollie!” She whacks me on the side of the arm, though her touch is much too light to do any serious damage. “You are being so mean to me today.”
“Want me to take you to the kids' department and you can choose a cuddly toy?” I know I should stop winding her up, but I’m having far too much fun. “Actually scratch that. It’s probably not wise to take the woman who looks up sperm donors when she’s drunk to see a bunch of baby stuff.”
That so very nearly earns me a smile, but she quickly replaces it with a pouty glare instead. I want to suck that puffed out lip between my teeth.
“Look, all I’m saying is that if you can make it through the free maze without giving me any more bratty attitude, I’ll make sure you get a little treat at the end. OK? Your choice.”
“I am not a brat,” she gasps. The subtle stomp of her foot while she folds her arms across her chest suggests otherwise. I can’t stop myself from closing the space between us, watching closely to see the subtle ways her body reacts to me. She stands up straighter, her eyes flitting back and forth between mine, lips pressed together in a tight line.
My hands itch to reach out for her. To grip her hips and pull her flush against me. To tilt her chin and kiss her right here in the middle of the kitchenware department.
“Spotlights. Then we’re out of here.”
By the time we reach the checkout, she’s softened. Megan stands behind me in line with her arms full of pillows, a throw blanket, storage jars and, you’ve guessed it, another fucking candle. She hasn’t let me help her carry anything though, strong-willed as she is.
“I’ll get your stuff,” I tell her when it’s my turn to pay.
“Don’t be silly.”
“It’s the least I can do for disappointing you.”
Her face softens, her head lilting to the left. A lock of hair falls into her eyes and she sends a puff of air skyward to flick it out of the way.
“Ollie, it’s fine. I’m not disappointed, I just didn’t think your big surprise would be IKEA, that’s all. It’s not like this was a date or anything.”
She pokes her tongue out, that last part dripping with sarcasm. I want to tell her if I ever got the chance to take her on an actual date, it would be a hell of a lot nicer than this, but confessions like that are pointless.
“Of course not. I promise I won’t try to surprise you again.”
“Now that is a good rule,” she says, elbowing me in the side. It’s good to know we’re on the right track again.
Back at the van, I slide open the side-door to let her drop her bags inside, and the motion-sensor light I’ve been using most evenings bathes the interior.
Megan gasps behind me, her hand cupping my shoulder as she pushes past. “Ollie, this is so different. You have a floor. You have walls.”
“What did you think I’ve been doing out here every night? I’ve been working on insulation before I put the bed and kitchen in. Climb in, I’ll show you.”
At this point, there’s no point even pretending I won’t look at her backside as she steps up to climb inside. Peachy as ever, just how I like it.
“The big change is I boarded up the space behind the cab,” I tell her, pointing out the panels I installed last week. “And built this compartment up above so there's no dead space.”
“I didn’t even notice that while we were driving here, sorry.”
“Well,” I shrug. “The last time you were in here, you had a head injury. Plus, you were too busy being wine-drunk and grumpy.”
“I’m sorry about my awful mood. You just caught me at a bad time.”
“I forgive you.”
She smiles up at me, and even in the harsh light, she’s beautiful. Megan’s smiles, the genuine ones where she’s not trying to please anyone else, are the kind that catch you off guard. There’s not much I wouldn’t do to earn another one, but as the air thickens between us, she blinks and looks away.
“Then I’ve been running electric cables, and tomorrow I’ll get these spotlights fitted before I attach panels on the roof.”
“Where will you sleep?” she asks, moving into the space at the back of the van.
“You’re standing on my bed.”
“On the floor?”
I laugh and cross the few steps it takes to join her. If she knew how much research I’d been doing for this part of the build I’d be insulted, but apart from a few brief conversations, Megan hasn’t shown much interest in what I get up to when I’m out working late into the night.
“Think I’ll leave my sleeping on the van floor days behind me.” I point to the tape I’ve marked out on the wall. “I’ll build a frame at this height, with a solid top for the mattress to sit on. Underneath will be pull-out storage for my indoor stuff on this side, and from the rear doors I’ll be able to access storage for outdoor gear.”
“It didn’t occur to me you’d have an actual bed in here.”
“Some people build a seating area with a table and benches that can turn into a bed, but since it’s just me, I’d rather make the bed the best bit. Proper mattress and everything.”
“Wouldn’t it make sense to build your bed higher, so you have more room for storage?”
“Nah, you have to account for cowgirl height,” I tell her, and her eyebrows knit together.
“What’s cowgirl height?”
Heat crawls up the back of my neck as I figure out how to explain it. “Um, it’s the amount of space a person needs to clear so they don’t hit their head when they’re sitting up in bed or when they're with, you know, a cowgirl.”
I watch her innocent expression flip from confusion to shock as my meaning sinks in. She lets out a gasp and her hand flies to her mouth as her cheeks turn rosy. “You’re going to have sex in here?”
The way she lowers her voice when she says ‘sex’ is fucking adorable.
“Maybe,” I shrug.
She avoids my gaze, intently examining the ceiling. “What if you meet someone like Gisele?”
“Who?”
“She’s a supermodel.”
“Pretty sure I won’t be meeting any supermodels while I tour the coast in a camper van,” I laugh, shoving my hands deep in my pockets.
My van plans are basically one giant to-do list, and with her being far from road ready, I haven’t thought about meeting someone on my trip. It would be nice, but now that she’s planted the seed, all I can picture is Megan riding me, her palms pressed flat against the roof as she grinds her way to an orgasm.
I watch as she traces her fingers along the taped markings, and when her eyes flit between them and the ceiling, I wonder if she’s thinking about having sex here too.
“If you’re up for it, there’s still somewhere I want to take you.”
“Sure,” she shrugs, her palm on my chest as she steadies herself to step out of the van. “Can’t be worse than IKEA, can it?”