Chapter 7 #3
Lips tipping up, Oliver crosses his arms. “Let’s just say I was quite the taste tester. Especially at the most inappropriate times. I usually had powdered sugar all over my lips from sneaking samples.”
Easy laughter bubbles out of my mouth and into the world. “I can imagine.” Making my way back toward the handsome doctor, a single and sudden thought sends sirens blaring in my mind. “Are we, um, going to … to have to kiss … in front of your family?”
The man who looks way too comfortable in my chair leans back slightly before running a hand through his slicked back hair. “I mean,” he clears his throat, “my family is pretty affectionate, sure. They would probably expect to see that from us, as well.”
I’m pretty sure my brain short-circuts.
“But we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, of course,” he adds quickly. “I would never ask that of you.”
“Well, I promise you that my family is certainly not the affectionate type. Except for my niece.” Pressing my lips together, I consider my next words carefully.
“But I guess I wouldn’t be opposed if we had to do that for yours to believe—” I wave my hand between us “—this.” As if he’s somehow missed our predicament up until now.
Oliver snorts.
“What?”
“You wouldn’t be opposed,” he mimics. Raising deep honey brows, he smirks.
Planting my fists on my hips, I send a playful glare his way. “I just don’t think it’d be the worst sacrifice I’d have to make in the name of getting my family to respect me. Really, I’d say it’s a notch or two above petting a leper or hugging a cactus or something.”
“Or something,” he grumbles. Nodding, Oliver stands and tosses his coat over his waiting arm. He hesitates for just a moment before looking back up at me.
Frowning, I narrow suspicious eyes. “What are you thinking over there, Rhodes?”
Oliver sighs before striding across the room, not stopping until he’s standing immediately in front of me.
Even being on the taller end of the spectrum, I have to crane my neck to meet his gaze.
The mouthwatering scent of a woodsy body wash and cookies sends any kind of coherent thought down the drain, almost making me miss the warmth of his fingertips brushing along my cheek.
Heat sings under his touch, so light it may as well be a butterfly tap dancing where our skin meets. “Callie,” he whispers, “is this okay?”
I nod rapidly, fully aware that my voice has left the building. Fire races across both of my cheeks, and amused sky blue eyes trace its path as it’s forged.
Oliver gives me a soft smile. “I need to hear you say it.”
Clearing my throat, I try again. “Yes, it’s okay.” I’ve never heard my voice sound so breathy. It’s honestly embarrassing.
“Good,” he nods, “especially since we’ll need to be comfortable casually touching one another, should the situation warrant it.”
“If this is your idea of casual, what do you consider intimate?” I blurt, immediately regretting my words as a wolfish grin takes over his face. “Never mind. Forget I asked.” Is this what a stroke feels like?
“I’m going to kiss you now,” Oliver breathes, watching for any sign I’m out.
“For practice?”
He nods. “For practice.” The large hand ghosting over my cheekbone slides behind my ear, making its way down to the back of my neck, where he holds me in place.
Steadying me.
Dipping his chin, Oliver reverently closes the last remaining distance between us. Thoughtful and deliberate. If everyone’s first kiss was like this, heartbreak wouldn’t exist. Happily ever afters would grow like flowers in the spring.
No one would ever kiss anyone else.
A soft press of pillowy lips molding perfectly against mine. That’s all—just one incomparable moment.
And then it’s over.
Oliver pulls away, the warmth of his hand going with him.
Holding his gaze, I internally chide my racing heart. “See you soon, Callie.” Then he turns and walks out of my classroom, taking every bit of air in the room with him.
“There can never be too much blue,” Ian says, handing me another piece of supreme pizza across the coffee table. Tossing a pile of napkins by the pizza box, he rounds the corner and plops down onto the couch next me.
Aaron snorts from the floor. The first Wednesday pizza night at Ian’s new place may not have been the best idea, since most of his furniture still isn’t put together. “Dude, the walls. Your couch. The barstools. Your bedding. Any girl you bring here is going to think you’re weird.”
“Because your place is so curated,” I grin down at him. “Your apartment—the one with enough colors everywhere to be a room in Willy Wonka’s factory. Ever heard of a color palette?”
Laughing, Ian leans back into the couch. “Blue is calming, man. Aren’t you some kind of songwriter? You should know that.” I look over just in time to watch as a pepperoni falls onto his white T-shirt.
“So, Ian, sell any houses today?” I ask, picking up the offending slice of meat and dropping it on a nearby plate.
Ian rolls his eyes. “I sell mortgages, not houses. Mortgage lenders assess—”
Snickering, I poke him in the ribs right as he leans forward for a drink of soda. “I know, I know. Just like to annoy you, is all.”
“Hey,” Aaron says around the chewed up pizza rolling in his mouth.
“Swallow,” Ian and I say in tandem.
Thankfully, he does before continuing, “Mom said some guy visited you at work earlier this week. Tall. Blond. Like a hot nerd.”
“He is not a nerd, ”I frown, “I don’t think.”
“That’s Callie’s boyfriend,” Ian teases.
“What?” Aaron pops up, pizza crust still in hand.
Despite the guy’s immense size thanks to muscles on muscles, a full beard and two full sleeves of tattoos, he’s pretty agile.
Must be all that jumping around on stage.
“Why haven’t I met this guy?” He feigns outrage, pointing to his brother. “And why have you?”
Ian holds up hands covered in pizza grease. “I only met him last Friday, man.”
“Besides,” I interrupt while handing Ian a napkin, “it’s nothing serious. I don’t even know if I really like the guy.” I deftly ignore Ian’s eyes burning a hole in the side of my face.
Aaron crosses flannel-clad arms. “Well, I need to meet him.”
“Absolutely not,” I start, but a knock on Ian’s door saves me from looking for any kind of excuse as to why Aaron can’t meet the man he had a hand in introducing me to.
Rolling his eyes, Aaron crosses the living room to answer the door.
“You didn’t tell him?” I whisper to my couchmate.
Ian shakes his head. “Figured the less people that know, the better.”
I nod as Aaron opens the door.
“Oh, sorry, I was, um,” a familiar feminine voice dances through the air. “Is Ian home?”
Standing, I turn around to see the owner of my home pilates studio holding an electric tea kettle. “Blythe?” Stepping over Ian’s legs, I head for the door.
Dressed in a vibrant purple spandex top and pants set, she’s clearly come straight from the studio. The petite woman’s bright blue eyes widen. “Callie? Hey! What are you doing here?” Her free hand brushes back loose golden hair.
Reaching the door, I unceremoniously swat an imposing Aaron out of the way. “Move.” I give him a shove, which does absolutely nothing.
But he’s a good sport and heads back to the living area.
Turning back to Blythe, I paste a bright smile on my face. “Come on in,” I say, holding the door open for her. “Ian’s right over—”
“Blythe.” My best friend sounds like he just ran a marathon. Or ate an entire pizza by himself, which he did. “Hey.”
I startle at the closeness of his voice, finding him mere inches from us.
“Oh, here,” he thrusts my phone in my face, “your phone keeps dinging from messages.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, taking the phone. Blythe says something to my friend in the background, but I’m too focused on the texts from an unsaved number. One I recognize from this morning.
Oliver.
Nacho’s excited to meet you. Just thought you’d like to know.
And my parents. The topic came up at dinner tonight, so I thought I’d prepare them.
Oh, crap. I hadn’t even thought about mentioning a guest to my parents. Shooting a quick text to my mom would be easy, but it may be more fun to see if they panic when their carefully laid plans are disturbed.
With everyone else distracted, I take a moment and officially add Oliver to my phonebook. When my phone alerts the room to another message, my heart lodges in my throat.
Ready for your family to meet your new boyfriend?
My response is immediate.
Absolutely not.
“Everything okay, Callie?” Ian’s voice draws me back to reality.
Snapping my gaze back to the rest of the room, I’m greeted by three pairs of confused eyes. “Huh? Oh, yeah. Fine. Why do you ask?”
“Because you look like you’re about to have a coronary,” he says carefully.
“Probably just Cal’s boyfriend,” Aaron offers from the fridge. The sound of a soda can popping open echoes in the sparsely furnished room.
Blythe’s light brow creases as a sly grin slides into place. “I thought you didn’t have time for a boyfriend?”
Ian looks toward our mutual friend. “You’ve tried setting Callie up?”
“With my brother,” she nods. “I think they’d be a good match.” Her musical laugh fills the entryway. “Balancing.”
Groaning, my phone pings again.
Don’t worry, baby. I’ve got your back.
“Baby”? Laying it on a little thick, don’t ya think? I doubt my family will read our texts.
“Who wants to watch a movie?” I ask, my voice a notch below supersonic. Blushing furiously, I look for any excuse for everyone’s focus to be off of me as fast as possible. Especially as my eyes drift back to the new message on the screen.
Just wait til you hear what I call you in front of them.