Chapter 30Olivia
Olivia
“Oww! Look at you,” Lauren hollers, crossing the bedroom threshold.
“I’m applying mascara, I’ll react in a minute,” I say, combing the fine bristles through my lashes.
The hem of my babydoll dress wiggles between her fingers. “Okay, but permission to raid your closet, please. This is so cute!”
“No, not cute ,” I whine before spinning around. “Yes, there’s tiny polka dots and long sleeves, but I will be pairing this with my signature thigh-high boots.” My brows shimmy over a smirk, but Lauren’s already rolling her eyes and plopping herself on the edge of my bed.
“So,” she sighs, “are we dropping the bomb tonight?”
I turn around, placing the mascara tube in my cosmetic bag on the dresser. “It’s Thursday. I can’t drop bombs on Thursdays.”
“Says who?” she scowls.
“Uhm, me.” I pluck the lip gloss from my makeup pouch before leaning toward the small, oval mirror. “He’s working tomorrow. I can’t just create a shit storm and then expect him to concentrate at work. That would be selfish.”
“ That’s what’s selfish?”
I pinch my gaze over my shoulder, catching Lauren’s sprawled out form above my periwinkle comforter. “I would’ve locked my door if I knew you were going to interrogate me, Mom .”
She sighs, black-tipped fingers playing with her fanned out locks. “Someone has to. Adult supervision is required with you.”
I blot my lips, popping them as I rest the skinny tube on the dresser. “If we’re about to have sex, yes. If not, no.”
“I’m not trying to rub it in, but I did tell yo—”
“Don’t!” My body whirls at her comeback, my index finger pointing directly at her. “You’re my best friend, and you’ll support me with whatever stupid ass decisions I make. Unless it’s murder, then I can understand. And even then, there are some gray areas.”
Lauren lifts herself on her palms, her crewneck sweatshirt bunching over her biker shorts. “Liv, you really need to start thinking about when and how you’re going to tell him.” Her brown eyes stab me with warning, her copper hair cascading over her shoulders as she hugs her knees.
I roll my eyes, my palms finding my lower back as I lift my chin to the ceiling. “I swear I have been,” I groan. “It’s just a little harder than I perceived, so it’s taking longer than I expected to come up with something.”
As my eyes scan the tawny glow of the ivory paint, my chest pinches.
I know she’s right.
I do.
“Lauren, he’s the most amazing man I’ve ever met.”
“But are your feelings for him just an extension of your infatuation? Just a side effect of the allure of him being your knight in shining armor?” she pushes.
I shake my head, returning my eyes to hers. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Do you still wear the ankle bracelet?”
My shoulder cocks a casual shrug. “Yeah, but so what? I feel safe when I wear it. What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing really ,” she drawls, squinting. “But isn’t it a little weird to continue wearing it if you guys officially start dating? He’s not going to be your guardian or bodyguard. He’s going to be your boyfriend.”
I wave her off, spinning so I can finetune my low bun. “A lot of people wear things that make them feel safe and that their loved ones are close.”
“Okay, that’s usually in memory of someone,” she quips. “Plus, Cade doesn’t even know you have this ring. How do you think he’s going to feel when you’re just wearing it for the purpose of feeling safe?”
I’m getting Lauren a muzzle for Christmas this year.
My lip twists uncomfortably as my fingers fiddle with my thin hair tie. “He’d probably find it a tad weird I suppose.”
“You’re being generous. He’s going to find it creepy as fuck,” she deadpans.
“Who says he’s not going to be flattered? People love to be cherished.” My hands slip to my curtain bangs, smoothing the curl out a little.
“Liv.”
I let my arms fall to my sides. “Yeah, I know. I know,” I grumble.
“Despite the total stalker vibes, your look is fire, babe. Toss in your thigh-high boots, and voila! He won’t even notice you’re a creep.”
A breathy laugh leaves me when I sink down on the mattress, and I tug on the boots in question. My feet and fingers maneuver around to stuff my legs in the black suede, only for Lauren and me to whip our heads at the few dull knocks from the front door.
Our eyes gape at each other in tandem. Then a maniacal grin spreads over Lauren’s face before she sprints from the bedroom.
“YOU BITCH! STAY AWAY FROM THE DOOR!”
I yank the boot zipper up and hop from the bed. Snatching my belt bag from the dresser, I click the rocker next to the door frame before knocking into Lauren.
“Shit!” I gasp, my palm slapping my chest to catch my stolen breath. “Ugh!” My lips tuck, and I swing my bag into Lauren’s arm. “I’m gonna have hairline sweat, you whore!”
Her two palms clutch my face as she laughs profusely. “I’m sorry, that was funny as shit.” Then she plants a quick kiss to my cheek. “Have the best time.”
I trail her with two beady eyes as she pads into her bedroom to our right. And after the coast is clear, I’m treading down the short hallway.
My pulse sprints, throat rolling through the mayhem until I’m turning the knob of the front door. I hiss a breath in, the barest smile stretching across my lips when Cade’s head whips in my direction.
With the way he’s rotating his body, it seems like he’s been absently wandering on the bottom step of the stoop. His hands are slipped into his dark jeans below a black and gray flannel, short waves tousled neatly in that charming, rugged way.
Goddamn.
“Hey,” he greets, marching up the couple cement steps.
“Hey.” My voice is soft. “Sorry, my roommate was being a jackass.”
My eyes lift when he’s a few inches away, those blue-gray eyes fragmented with gold from the light behind me.
A glint of amusement clinging to them as he tosses a glance over my shoulder.
“I can wait if you need some more time to get ready.” Then his gaze traces over me, his rich and woody scent coiling under my nose like a cyclone.
“But I’d have to question your judgment a little bit when you already look this beautiful. ”
The compliment rolls off his tongue with ease, yanking a tiny grin from me. “I’ll get my coat.”
My smile touches my ears when I duck back into the entryway. I pull my leather jacket off the wooden bench, coasting both arms through the sleeves before tugging my belt bag across my chest.
I step outside as I shut the front door, and Cade’s body is half-turned to face me. He dips his chin to locate my hand, his palm dangling until mine is clasped in it.
The grating of his coarse skin flips my belly as I say, “You haven’t told me where you’re taking us.”
“You’re unpredictable,” he says as we stroll down the concrete strip. “I assumed you like your experiences the same way.” I beam, and he chances a glimpse my way. “There’s no way I’m wrong.”
I shake my head before we reach his motorcycle. “No, you’re not.”
His palm slips from mine, retrieving a helmet around the handlebar. The white vanes of the feather pop in my periphery, my throat instantly bobbing as I take the gear from him. “Just like the fairytale, huh? Picking you up on my white horse?” he teases.
A warmth frames my heart, prepared to spread to every crevice of the organ as my grin reflects his.
You have no idea.
“Something like that, yeah,” I play along.
He offers his hand for me to nestle my wrist in, and I swing my leg over the vinyl seat. The swells of the bench graze my panties—a lethal ingredient mixed with his proximity beside the bike.
He assists me with my helmet, his palms tugging the hard shell forward until my forehead is snugly inside.
He tunes the adjustment strap, only to bend to ensure my feet are planted securely on the foot pegs.
Then I pick up where he left off, buckling my head in when he straddles the front of the seat.
Cade shifts to swipe his helmet from the chrome bar, peeking over his shoulder as he says, “You knew we were riding my motorcycle and still wore a dress.”
My palms lightly curl around his sides as I lean in. “I thought I’d give you your own fairytale.”
His chin tips up as he slicks his hair back with one hand. “ Oof , I think I just fell in love.”
I giggle when he swiftly glides the shell over his head. He snaps the gear in place, and a deep growl ignites beneath us. Adrenaline catapults through my body, my arms finally wrapping around Cade’s leather wall of a chest.
Then we’re roaring down the dark street.
Wafts of maple and rich vanilla steal my senses through the brightly lit room. “This is overwhelming. There’s too much to choose from,” I say, my eyes scanning the collage of cereal box covers on the back wall.
I’ve never been to an ice cream and cereal bar before, let alone Mix-It-Up. At least that’s what the neon sign in the center of the rear wall emphasizes.
“Isn’t it a no-brainer for you to choose Cinnamon Toast Crunch or something?” Cade asks beside me.
I shrug. “I can stray away from the norm from time to time.” Both of us inch forward just as the order counter clears, and a teenage girl greets us in a black cap and apron on the other side. “Can I get a cup of vanilla ice cream with Cinnamon Toast Crunch?” I request.
Cade’s breathy chuckle is short-lived when the girl’s chin tips to him. “Uh, I’ll take a cup of chocolate ice cream with Cocoa Puffs.”
“Great, I’ll get that ready for you.”
When the employee strides off, I peer up at him through my lashes, a playful smirk tracing my lips.
“So sexy and masculine ordering cocoa puffs in your ice cream.” My fingers shimmy over him, and his icy blues pin me under the white lights.
“Really rounds out the motorcycle and rugged image you’ve got going on. ”
A coy smile sprouts from him when he directs his head forward, and he swipes a tattooed hand down his chin. “Is there really a masculine cereal though?”
“Wheaties,” I respond.
Cade winces. “No one is getting Wheaties in their ice cream.”
The muted buzz of the cereal blender hums around us. “You lie,” I tease. “You were waiting all day for this moment with your favorite childhood cereal. Just admit it.”
“Would you think differently if I was?” he plays along, plucking a few napkins from the holder.
“Actually, I don’t think you’ve ever been sexier.”
He nods as our order greets the teal countertop. “That’s good.”
I tap his arm through our faint laughter, and then he’s paying for our ice cream before we exit.
“If you hyped this up for no reason …” I trail off, scooping the crunchy cream.
“I should’ve ordered the Wheaties. Could’ve prevented me from the permanent damage you might do,” he counters, slipping a generous lump of chocolate ice cream in his mouth.
“Never mind,” I mumble through the euphoric blend of cinnamon and vanilla. “I’ll eat my words proudly. The crunch .”
“You’ll never go back to regular soft serve.”
When we reunite with his motorcycle parked along the sidewalk, his palm lands on my hip to circle me around him. He guides me until my backside is leaning against his bike, his frame towering over me as he scoops another bite of his ice cream.
He’s shielding me.
My hands pause their mission to eat, that glowing trim bordering my heart now spreading generously across the muscle.
I’m struck with his tenderness at the same time I drink in his ruggedness. A loose hair dangles on his forehead above a stubbled jaw that munches on the dessert. The ink and metal clung to his right hand on display when he shovels another spoonful through his peach lips.
A whirlwind of fire and ice, and I was damn right about one thing.
He’s never looked sexier.
“So, do you still think I’m a real asshole?”
I eye him curiously, digging a small mound of ice cream up. “You’re growing on me.”
He swallows his food, his crystal gaze piercing through the night. “What’s the secret to getting a solid ‘no’ to that question?”
“More ice cream,” I tease. “More kissing.”
He prods his tongue out to lick his lips, cradling my chin between his thumb and forefinger. But just when his mouth is an inch from mine, I slap my spoonful of vanilla ice cream on his lips.
His eyes squeeze shut, crinkling at the corners as my chest bounces silently.
“I’m sorry, I’ll clean it up.” I lift on my tiptoes, sloping my chin up so I can suck the splotches of dessert.
But he’s too quick, and his lips dart to my cheek.
With one palm framing the dry side of my face, he smears a path of cold cream from my cheek to neck. Heat radiates in my lower belly as he extracts a fit of giggles from my lungs, his wet and scruffy lips stamping kisses along their journey as I shout, “Okay, okay! Truce!”
The carving of the invincible superhero begins to chip away in my mind. The engraving I’ve insisted on holding with my nails dug into it.
He’s human.
Maybe I’ve sunk myself too far into something I wasn’t equipped to climb out of, but I’ve never wanted to be this deep underground.
In this special orbit we created.
With Cade and I, we didn’t mold for the world that was already set for us to live in. Instead, the world bent for us .
We’re not a rule, but an exception.
Anything but predictable.