Gage
Chapter twenty-two
We retrieve our things from the locker before we leave the park, and I note a missed call from my dad. He followed up with a text asking me to give him a call when I can, though he says it’s not urgent.
We hit a drive-through for dinner and then find the hotel and check in—Matt and I are sharing one room, with the ladies in another.
I go upstairs long enough to drop my duffel bag off in my room and say good night to Olivia outside of her room, and then I go back downstairs, find a chair near the pool to sit, and call my dad back.
The line rings a couple of times before he picks up.
“Hey, son,” he says.
“Hey, Dad. What’s up?” I lean back in the pool lounger and bend an arm behind my head.
“Your mom asked me to call you about the Fourth of July party. Are you planning to come home for it?”
I scratch my head. Every year for as long as I can remember, my parents host a huge party for the Fourth of July.
They invite neighbors, friends, coworkers, anyone and everyone who shows even the smallest interest in joining us.
We set everything up in the backyard by the pool and keep the gates open to encourage people to wander in and out.
They cook brisket and ribs with potato salad, jalapeno poppers, cornbread, beans, and more on the side.
For dessert, my mom bakes Texas sheet cake and serves it with cold vanilla ice cream.
It’s one of the best days of the summer.
“Time is meaningless at camp,” I joke. “When’s the Fourth of July again?”
He chuckles. “Well, you see, it’s on the fourth day of the month of July.”
“Ha ha. Thanks, Dad. That’s helpful.”
He laughs again. “It’s in a couple weeks. It’s a Saturday this year, so I think that’s between sessions at camp right? A day off for you?”
My Olivia day. I’d love to go home to see my parents and Annie, but I’ve avoided it because I don’t want to lose any time with Olivia. And because we’re keeping our fling or whatever a secret from our families and friends at home, we’d be strictly “friends only” back in Austin, I’m sure.
But I would hate to miss the big party. Maybe Olivia would come with me, if I asked her.
“Yeah, I’m free on Saturdays. I’ll be there. I’ll drive over on Saturday morning and stay over that night, if that’s okay.”
“Of course it’s okay. This is your home. We can’t wait to see you, son.”
I miss them, too. I’ve lived with or close to my parents my whole life. Even for college, I stuck close to home, attending UT right there in town, even though I lived in the dorms because room and board were included in my baseball scholarship.
I was devastated when both Annie and Olivia decided to go to school three hours away in Houston.
I like having the people I love right by my side at all times.
Other than summer trips to Maggie’s house in Fort Worth when we were kids, and now this summer working at camp, I’ve kept close to my parents, and to Austin.
“Oh!” my dad says. “I almost forgot. Annie mentioned that Delaney is working at the camp there with you, too. Bring her along for the party, if she’s free. Her parents are coming, and we’d all love to see her.”
I smile to myself. Convincing Olivia to come with me just got easier. I know I won’t be able to touch her or kiss her while we’re with our families, but at least I won’t have to totally miss out on one of my Saturdays with her.
I get back to the room twenty minutes later, exhausted from being in the sun all day and ready to crawl into bed. I scan my key card and open the door when the digital lock turns green, but it gets caught on the swing bar.
“Matt!” I call through the small opening. “It’s me. Can you let me in, please?”
It takes a few minutes, but Matt finally appears at the door, disengaging the swing bar. He blocks me from entering and comes out into the hallway, closing the door behind him and shoving my duffel bag into my arms.
“Hey,” he says furtively. He’s changed out of his swimsuit into athletic shorts, but he’s not wearing a shirt. His hair is disheveled, and his face looks a little red, maybe from too much sun at the water park today.
“Uh … what’s going on? I’d like to go into our room and get some sleep.”
“Yeah … you can’t do that.”
I clench and unclench my fists. “Why the hell not?”
Matt glances up and down the hallway before he points a thumb at the door behind him. “I’ve got Brynn in there,” he whispers furiously.
I scrub my hand across my eyes. It’s been a long day—fun, but very tiring. I want to go to sleep.
When I don’t respond, Matt leans in. “You know, like to spend the night?”
“Yeah, Matt. I got that. Where am I supposed to sleep?”
He shrugs. “If Brynn’s with me, that leaves an open spot in your lady’s room.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Maybe we’ll both get lucky tonight.”
I groan, feeling anything but lucky in this situation. Olivia wouldn’t like Matt’s idea at all; it goes way beyond the PG-13 fling she envisioned.
Sharing a room—and a bed—with Olivia, though…. Well, let’s just say that if I thought she’d go for it, I’d be knocking on her door already.
As much as we’ve been connecting—and kissing—these last few weeks, and as much as we had an amazing time together today, Olivia does better with space. She reacts best when I let her come to me in a no-pressure situation.
Showing up at her hotel room door and asking to stay the night is exactly the kind of thing that will put her on the defensive and make her close back up.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I finally say.
“What’s the big deal? You guys are dating, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, but not sharing-a-hotel-room-level dating. And I’m pretty sure Olivia would have a problem with you even saying ‘dating.’”
Matt stares at me. “Come on,” he says. “You guys are clearly into each other.”
“It's more complicated than that,” I explain. “I don't know, man. I don't think that conversation’s going to go well.”
Matt shrugs. “I feel for you, but not my problem.”
And then he’s gone and the door slams closed in my face.
Seriously?
I heave a deep breath trying to release my exasperation with it. Then I walk down the hall and knock softly on Olivia’s hotel room door.
She opens the door in a huge T-shirt that grazes her thighs, her legs bare underneath. I snap my eyes up quickly. Her face looks freshly scrubbed, her cheeks pink from all the sun we got today. Her eyes widen when she sees me.
“Gage?” she says. “What are you doing?”
“Umm,” I stutter.
“I thought maybe it was Brynn, and she lost her key. Have you seen her?”
I shift my duffel bag on my shoulder and hold my hands out, palms up. “Sort of?” I answer.
She tilts her head, waiting for me to explain. I take a deep breath, and then it all comes out in a rush. “MattandBrynnarehookingupinmyroomcanIsleephere?”
Olivia narrows her eyes. “What?” she asks.
I sigh and repeat myself more slowly this time. “Matt and Brynn are hooking up in my room. Can I sleep here?”
The panic in her eyes is evident. Her “cool girl” mask has slipped, and the look on her face is pure pre–high school Olivia.
Uncertainty mixed with determination—all emotion with none of that detached Delaney facade that’s been her default for years.
My heart twinges. There’s no way I don’t fall for this Olivia. Real Olivia.
She’s reacting about how I expected, proof that she’s nowhere near ready to be as vulnerable with me as this situation might require. She’s not acting defensive, though. At least, not yet.
“I mean, is there a couch or something I can crash on?”
Finally, she blinks, tosses her head, and turns to evaluate the hotel room behind her. “A couple of armchairs," she says. “And one bed.”
“Oh.”
We stand in the doorway staring at each other. “Okay,” I finally say. “I’ll go see if the hotel has an extra room available.”
I start to turn, but Olivia sighs and grabs my arm. “Wait. Just … just come in,” she says. “We’ll figure it out.”
I can’t help but grin as I close the door behind me. Unfortunately, she sees it. Her hands fly to her hips.
“What?” she asks.
I quickly school my features. “Nothing,” I say.
She narrows her eyes and makes a humming sound in her throat. “The bed’s a king, so there should be plenty of space for both of us. I was finishing up in the bathroom. When I’m done, you can have it.” She glances at me, waiting for my reaction. I keep my face impassive.
“Sounds good,” I say. Inside, I’m giddy.
Yeah, I’m still annoyed with Matt for kicking me out of my own hotel room, but if it means sharing a bed with Olivia, I may actually owe that guy a thank-you card.
She could put a wall of pillows between us on that bed, and I guarantee she’d still be the best roommate I’ve ever had.
She pops back out of the bathroom, where she’s put leggings on underneath her baggy T-shirt. Her hands are on her hips again.
And the ponytail is gone, her hair now flowing like a soft river across her shoulders and down her back.
The way it frames her face makes the angles of her jaw softer.
I have the almost uncontrollable impulse to bury my hands in that hair and feel the silky strands glide through my fingers.
I know I’m staring, but Olivia doesn’t seem to notice.
“Tell me the truth,” she says. “Is this some sort of a plan that you guys put together? Are you hoping to….” She trails off, wanting me to fill in the blanks on my own, which I do.
“No,” I say quickly. “I swear.” I draw an X over my heart with my pointer finger.
She glares at me, assessing my truthfulness. Despite the fact that I really do only have honorable intentions, I sweat a little under her gaze. I mean it’s not like I haven’t thought about it. A lot. But I’m not stupid, and I know that kind of fling isn’t what either of us wants.
“Okay, good,” she finally says. “Because that’s not the kind of thing I would do with someone who’s just a summer fling.”
Even though I literally had the same thought, I bristle at her wording. I can’t help but push back. “You’re still clinging to the whole ‘summer fling’ thing, huh?”
She blinks at me. “Of course. That was our agreement.”
I lift a hand to her cheek, running my thumb across the collection of freckles that dot her skin.
I move my hand up and back, my fingers parting and then disappearing into the strands of her hair.
I close my eyes at the feel of it, even better than I expected.
Her hair is still wet in some places, and the damp spots chill my hand as I wrap Olivia’s hair around my palm.
I open my eyes and immediately lock them with hers.
The gold flecks in her green eyes glow in contrast with the low light that surrounds us.
Her pupils dilate, and she leans toward me the tiniest bit.
Her neck and cheeks flush pink, and I’m slammed with the intense impulse to erase all the distance between us, both physical and emotional.
I pull her body into mine easily. The emotional chasm will be more difficult to bridge.
“We’re more than a fling,” I whisper into the shell of her ear, my voice husky and cracking.
Instantly, Olivia shuts down, like a switch has been flipped.
It’s actually pretty impressive to watch.
The emotion—desire, longing, affection—drains from her eyes, leaving them hard, cold, and a little …
sad. Her hands drop to her sides. I untangle my hand from her hair, and she steps back, restoring the distance between us.
“That was the deal,” she says flatly. “If you want out…”
I hold back a groan. I want to shout. I want to shake her. I want to push her down onto the bed and kiss her until she can’t remember her name, let alone why she insists on holding me at arm’s length. I don’t do any of those things.
Instead, I hold up my hands, palms facing toward her. “Hey, forget I said anything, okay? I’m going to get ready for bed.”
I grab my duffel and walk into the bathroom. After I close the door behind me, I slump against it. Maybe I am stupid, because I damn well know better than to back Olivia Delaney into a corner. She always comes out swinging. At me, mostly. Or so it feels.
I take a quick shower to wash off the chlorine, river water, and sunscreen from the day. Then, as I brush my teeth, I stare at my reflection in the mirror.
Because how pathetic am I? Pining patiently for a woman who’s made it very clear what she wants from me.
I don’t understand the hold she has over me.
She’s just a woman. Even as the thought enters my mind, I push it away.
I know it’s a lie. Olivia has never been just a woman or just a girl to me.
She pushes me. Challenges me. She keeps me humble when I get too cocky.
She also makes me feel like I can do anything.
When we were in high school, I was on the debate team, but my toughest arguments were always at home with my twin sister’s best friend.
We argued over stupid stuff like whether hot dogs are sandwiches and whether the American League or the National League is better.
After one particularly fierce discussion in which I had to concede by the end that Folklore was an artistically more mature album than Red, making it objectively Taylor’s best, I told her that she really needed to join me on the debate team.
She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Yeah right. I'm not smart enough for that.”
I don’t know why she sold herself short. She still does it. Does she think self-deprecation makes people like her more, or does she really not see how smart, strong, and capable she is even off the soccer pitch?
So yeah, she told me what she wants from me, but there’s no fire in her eyes when she says it. I don’t believe her. She’s more than she thinks she is, and this is more than she’ll admit. But I’ll keep taking what I can get, hoping that one day she’ll let me in.
When I’m ready, I open the bathroom door to a dark room.
I feel my way over to the bed, where my eyes have adjusted to the dark enough to see which side Olivia has claimed. She’s lying on her side, facing toward the bathroom with her eyes closed. I peel back the covers on the opposite side and climb in.
I don’t like how we left things before I went into the bathroom. I roll over and lie on my side, hovering above her. I gently stroke her hair.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’ll stick to the deal. This can be whatever you want.”
I’m not even sure she can hear me. Her breathing is steady and soft; she may already be asleep. I press a kiss to the side of her head.
Quietly, to myself more so than to her, I repeat, “Whatever you want. I hope you come to find out that what you want is me.”
To think I was worried about falling for her again when the truth is, I never got over her in the first place.