22. Lolly
twenty-two
Lolly
There’s something sexy about having my passenger princess jump in without question. He hasn’t asked where we’re going, just nervously fists his shirt every so often and blushes when he catches me looking. I like it more than I should.
I pull into the parking lot, “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
“Kay,” he replies.
I smile on my way inside, unable to stop myself.
“Mind holding this for me?” I say as I hand him the food.
He shakes his head no, cheeks flushing. Fuck, that’s cute. How is he so damn adorable? It’s got to be the glasses.
The park is quiet most evenings, only a few other cars in the lower lot. I smile when he lets me open his door.
“I haven’t been out here since I was a kid,” he says.
“I come out here every now and then. There’s a spot above the waterfall that’s hidden off the main trail.” I offer him my hand.
He hesitates.
Then he takes my hand and follows me.
We walk in silence. Warm. Comfortable.
“This is it,” I throw both arms up and spin in place, letting the sunlight warm my face. The whir of the waterfall is soothing and there’s a breeze up here that makes even the most stifling summer days bearable.
“I remember the first time we hiked to the waterfall and back. Liam puked on our way out,” he laughs. “He had packed a huge lunch and ate all of it even though Nat and I warned him.”
“Oof, that hike back up can be brutal,” I laugh.
“Come on, there’s a bench around this boulder.” He follows me and then takes a seat next to me, a smile on his lips.
“Thanks,” he says. “For, um— for everything.” His cheeks flush, “I appreciate you.”
I kiss him gently, “You’re welcome.”
We talk about everything, conversation flows effortlessly. He tells me about his parents, about growing up with Nat and Liam.
He shows me his life, chapter by chapter, and I’m captivated. The way his eyes light up when he tells stories about his best friends, the way he becomes more animated when he talks about live music—it keeps me present.
Darkness is falling and I don’t give a shit. I’ll stay here with him until tomorrow.
He finishes telling me about how he became a fish dad and then peers up at me, “What about you?” He says sheepishly.
“What about me?”
“Do you have any siblings? I know Jay is your friend, but is he your best friend?” His words are rushed, like he just realised he’s been talking about himself too much.
“I did,” I say softly. “I had a sister. Olani.”
“Oh, Oliver, I’m sorry.” His eyes widen, his apology earnest.
“It’s okay,” I promise. “She and my parents died in an accident when I was young. That’s how I ended up in the foster system and then with my Mama Chloe, she adopted me a few years later,” I explain.
Why am I telling him this? Jay is the only person who knows.
He sits quietly, taking in the heaviness of my words. He doesn't interrupt, just takes my hand in his and squeezes. A quiet reminder that he hears me. That I’m not alone anymore.
“Tell me about them,” he smiles.
“Lani was beautiful, wise, funny. She was underestimated because she had a speech impediment. She called me Lolly—it was so cute it stuck. Even my parents and Jay used it too.”
“Lolly,” he echoes and it takes my breath away.
“My parents were lovers of the arts, collectors. They both loved Broadway and actually met on the set of a high school play their junior year. She was lead and he was playing a tree,” I laugh.
Bailey snorts, “Oh my god, I love it.”
“Yeah, they were amazing. I miss them.” I pull in a breath. “I believe a crucial part of me will always be with them—wherever they are. But I think I’ve managed to love what’s left of myself enough to make up for the missing pieces.”
“Lolly,” he says, turning to face me. “All that you are is more than enough.”
My eyes burn, tears threatening to fall as he leans in to kiss me. His lips are kind, careful—like he understands the gravity of this moment.
He pulls back and wipes a single tear from my cheek before kissing the place where it fell.
When he kisses me again, the taste of salt lingers for a second before it’s carried away.
He holds my hand the entire drive back, not letting go until we’re in the parking lot of his dorm.
“Come on,” he says as he leads me up the stairs, smiling back at me over his shoulder.
The apartment is like I remember, cozy, and a little messy—like him. I take a careful seat next to him on the couch.
I grab my phone and pull up my results from the clinic, handing it to him, “I’m not seeing anyone else, Bailey. I haven’t since the night you spilled your drink on me.”
He laughs, looking at the phone, squinting like he’s missing the point.
“Oh,” he says as he figures out what he’s seeing. “I haven’t—um, been with anyone else either,” he says quietly. His cheeks flush as he looks at me.
He scrambles to pull his phone out of his pocket and fidgets until he’s finished, handing it to me. “I got tested too.”
“I know this is new, and we don’t need a label, but I would ask that if you decide to see other people, that you let me know first.” It’s not asking too much, and it gives him space and time to decide how far he’s willing to take this thing between us.
“I will. Pinky promise,” he says as he raises his hand to meet mine.
“Dork.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” he says.
His eyes meet mine and that same warmth floods my chest. Seeping into my bones and finding refuge in my marrow.
I want him.
Crave him.
Miss him when he’s not with me.
“Green eyes,” I whisper as I take his face in my hands. “What have you done to me?” I kiss him, not ready to hear the answer. Not ready for the night to end.
“Oliver,” he groans, pulling me down on top of him as he wraps his arms around my neck and positions himself between my legs.