11
O livia jumped as her friend Clara elbowed her in the ribs. “Samson’s talking about intern evaluations,” she whispered. “Act like you’re paying attention.”
“Thanks,” Olivia replied. “I got distracted.”
“Obviously. You look like your hamster fell off the wheel.”
Olivia let out a tired sigh and tried to focus on her professor’s words.
Her hamster was running alright, just on a completely different track.
This class was supposed to help graduating seniors take the final steps between their internships and the real world, but Olivia was starting to wonder if she’d ever really be ready.
She’d only been working at the Harrelson Center for Children’s Services for two weeks, and already she’d seen more of the “real world” than she’d been prepared for.
In the last four days alone, she’d been on two child-removal calls—one of which required police intervention—and observed one ugly meeting between a set of parents, a case worker and the district attorney.
But she’d also been privileged to see a little boy go home with his forever family, and then she’d helped plan a teenager’s first-ever birthday party.
Olivia knew she’d never forget the look on the girl’s face when she’d realized the setup was for her.
The career field she’d chosen would definitely have its ups and downs... She just hoped she could handle all of them.
“If you’ve applied to graduate school, you should be hearing from them by the end of next month,” Dr. Samson said, but her thought was cut short by a knock at the door.
The confused professor left her podium to answer it, and Olivia felt the attention level in the hall rise like the tide.
There was a moment of hushed conversation by the door—during which it seemed as if Dr. Samson would deny the visitor entry—but then she relented.
“Students, it seems we’ll have a brief intermission,” she said, emphasizing the word brief , “in the name of love.”
“In the name of what ?” Clara whispered, but Olivia only shrugged in confusion. She didn’t know anything more than the next person.
The whole class watched as four young men in matching navy sport coats entered the room in single file.
One was carrying a small speaker, which he set on the now-empty podium.
Dr. Samson waited with her shoulder propped against the wall and her brows arched, clearly as mystified as the rest of the room.
“Is Olivia Cohen in here?” the guy with the speaker asked, and Olivia felt her blood run cold. Clara swiveled in her seat and leaned back, her face alight with a thousand silent questions. Olivia gave her friend the tiniest silent shake of her head and hoped she would get the message.
No. Please, no.
“Olivia?” the guy asked again, and when Olivia made no motion to answer, Clara’s hand shot into the air.
“She’s up here!” she called .
Olivia turned to her friend with fire in her eyes. “Traitor!” she hissed through clenched teeth.
Clara grinned broadly, practically bouncing in her seat. “Oh, come on! Let me live vicariously!” she begged.
Olivia thought of a few retorts, but it was too late to give them. Three of the intruders were already climbing the lecture hall stairs, and a familiar beat was coming from the speaker down below. The quartet started to snap their fingers in time.
What was happening?!
The closest man, obviously the ringleader of this little band, broke into the opening line of “My Girl” by The Temptations just as he reached Olivia’s row.
Olivia felt her entire body gain a thousand pounds and do its best to sink through the bottom of her chair.
Of all the days in the year to find an aisle seat!
The song went on, all four boys now staggered along the stairs beside her as they harmonized on the chorus, and many of Olivia’s classmates seemed to have joined in as well.
At least, the sound had grown exponentially louder since the first verse—though that might have just been the blood pounding in her ears.
Clara latched both hands onto her arm. “You should see your face!” she said gleefully, but Olivia didn’t have to see her face. She could feel it, every single inch, as her skin seemed to vibrate of its own accord. What in the world—
Her confusion was put to rest as the song ended.
The room broke into applause and cheers, and one of the singers laid a blank white notecard on the tabletop in front of her.
At least, the side facing up was blank, but when she snatched it and turned it over, the opposite side sported a single sentence in cramped print.
“All hail my warrior princess. ”
Olivia felt her blood pressure rise even further, and her fingers actually shook.
Noah. Campbell.
He didn’t know when to give up, did he?
She crumpled the card in her hand and stuffed it into her backpack. If he wanted a fight, then he’d get one.
And he’d regret it.
Two days later, Olivia put her car in park in front of Watson’s Grocery Store and flipped down the visor mirror to double-check her reflection. Then, she rolled her shoulders back and tried to remember every word her high school theatre teacher had ever said.
Own the room. Feel your character. Play to the audience.
She let out a long, calming sigh and craned her neck to peer through her windshield and into the front store windows.
There he was, stacking what looked like boxes of canned soda near the registers.
The store seemed fairly quiet for the moment, though there were customers in two checkout lanes and a small cluster of people in employee uniforms loitering around the service desk.
Perfect.
Olivia grabbed a small, insulated bag from her passenger’s seat and took it with her as she climbed from the car and started her march toward the store.
The click of her heels on the pavement provided a background beat for the swing of her hips, and she tried to imagine she was on some kind of fashion runway.
One that led straight past a large advertisement for cocktail sauce... but no matter .
The automatic doors whooshed open, and she strode inside, head held high, with the world’s biggest smile on her face.
“Oh, sweetheart!” she called, her voice loud and clear in the half-empty store.
A dozen heads swung her way, but she stayed focused on her target, who hadn’t looked up from the display he was creating.
“Honey bug!” she called again. “There you are! I almost called the front desk!”
Noah finally turned as she came to a stop beside him, having evidently realized someone was talking to him. His brow furrowed in confusion, and he opened his mouth to respond, but she didn’t let him.
“You forgot your medicine, sweetie, so I brought it up to you. Oh! And another pair of briefs, just like you asked, though the silk may have gotten cold in the bag. Maybe that’ll help, though.”
There were a few audible snickers from nearby, and Olivia had to work to keep a straight face.
She shoved the thermal pouch into Noah’s hands and barreled on, making sure he wouldn’t be able to get a word in edgewise.
“The special cream ”—she whispered these words as loudly as she could—“is in the side pocket, just in case. I know how many burritos you had for lunch; those are gonna burn on the way out.”
Someone from behind the service desk hooted out loud, and Noah clamped his mouth shut as a visible flush climbed into his ears.
Olivia patted the side of his face the way her grandmother used to do to her brothers.
“Don’t be embarrassed, honey bug. Good colon health is very important!
” She winked to drive the point home. “Toodle-oo!” she sang, and then she turned on her heel and waltzed back toward the door as if their enlightening little conversation were as normal as snowflakes in the winter .
A wave of laughter from Noah’s coworkers followed her through the doors, and when she’d crossed the lobby, she finally looked back and saw him clutching the thermal bag to his chest as three of his coworkers tried to take it from him—probably to find out whether or not there was really a pair of silk briefs inside.
They wouldn’t be disappointed—she’d picked a pair with pink Hawaiian flowers on every inch.
Noah glanced toward the doors as she backed through the second set, and she held her hands up in a heart shape against her chest. Noah narrowed his eyes, the only indication he’d seen her gesture at all, and Olivia threw her head back and laughed all the way to her car.
Game. Set. Match.
“I told you this was a bad idea,” Jake said from his place at the kitchen table. “Olivia is a force to be reckoned with, and you, my friend, have woken the beast.”
Conner, on the other hand, said nothing. He was laughing too hard to speak.
Noah didn’t blame him. If the whole incident had happened to anyone else, he would have done the same thing—but, as it was, he’d been too busy fending off questions about his “colon health” all night to truly appreciate the evil genius of Olivia’s performance.
“It isn’t over yet,” he replied. He turned and resumed pacing between the kitchen sink and the living room couch.
“Noah Campbell doesn’t give up on a challenge.
Noah Campbell is here to win! Noah Campbell—”
“—talks about himself in the third person,” Conner wheezed, having apparently collected himself enough to form intelligent words again.
Noah glared at him and kept talking. “—is also a force to be reckoned with, and that little minx hasn’t seen anything yet. It’s been fun and games until now, but the gloves are coming off. I’m gonna show her who she’s dealing with. I’m gonna—”
He stopped abruptly and stared at a pine knot on the bathroom door as an idea came together in his mind. “I’m gonna sweep her off her feet,” he finished, and he turned to see Jake scrutinizing him with a spoonful of cereal paused halfway to his mouth.
“Meaning?” his friend asked warily.
“Meaning I’m going full boyfriend mode. Do you know what day it is?”
“Sunday?”
“Sunday, February 12,” Noah answered, emphasizing each word in turn. “Do you know what that means?”
“That you can read a calendar?” Conner asked.
“No! It means February 14—aka Valentine’s Day —is in forty-eight hours!”
Conner’s face went blank, as if he were truly concerned for his roommate’s sanity at this point. “Dude, Valentine’s Day is dangerous. This is when you hunker down! Grab a shift at work, avoid eye contact with women, curl into a ball and hope for the best.”
“No,” Noah said, a maniacal sort of laughter rising in his chest. “Valentine’s Day is perfect!”
“What are you doing for Valentine’s Day?” Robin asked abruptly, and Olivia surfaced from her thoughts with a distracted sort of static buzzing around her ears.
“What?”
“I asked what you’re doing for Valentine’s Day,” Robin repeated. “You know, now that you have a boyfriend, or whatever you think he is.”
Valentine’s Day . . .
“I don’t know, when is it?” Olivia asked. Then she dipped one of her onion rings into a puddle of ketchup.
“Tuesday,” Robin answered.
“Tuesday?”
“Yeah, like this Tuesday. The day after tomorrow? Forty-eight hours from now?”
The gears in Olivia’s mind started to spin. She hadn’t even realized Valentine’s Day was that week. She normally didn’t care, and Noah hadn’t said anything.
Noah hasn’t said anything!
Olivia felt her cheeks stretch into a slow grin. “Robin, you’re a genius!”
“I know,” her friend replied blithely. Then she paused and met Olivia’s eye. “Why?”
“Because it’s Valentine’s Day! Girlfriends care about Valentine’s Day, and he’s got a girlfriend now.
He hasn’t said a thing! I bet it hasn’t even crossed his mind!
Tuesday will get here, absolutely nothing will happen, and then I’ll have logical grounds to go all high-maintenance basket case on him, and that’ll be the end! ”
Robin eyed her skeptically as a waitress came to refill their sodas. “I don’t think that word means what you think it means,” she said when the woman was gone .
Olivia only huffed good-naturedly, her mood dramatically improved. “Don’t Princess Bride me. It’ll work this time,” she said.
Robin took a long slurp of her soda and gave a knowing sort of smile. “Whatever you say, my dear. Whatever you say.”