Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Olivia
The second I opened my apartment door, Olivia stormed in like she owned the place, her eyes locked onto me with laser focus, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor as she tossed her bag onto my counter.
She spun around, arms crossed, her expression a mix of suspicion and triumph, like she had already figured something out and was just waiting for me to confirm it.
"What the hell happened to you last night?" she demanded, her voice piercing and impatient, making my already-throbbing headache ten times worse.
I groaned, dragging myself toward the couch like a wounded soldier, throwing myself down onto it with dramatic exhaustion. My body felt like it had been through a full-body workout, but I was not about to explain why.
Olivia followed, dropping down next to me, kicking off her shoes, and turning her full attention on me. "Okay. Talk. Now."
I buried my face into a pillow, groaning loudly. "Liv, I am so tired."
She smacked my leg. "No. You disappeared last night. No texts. No calls. And now you look like you fought a battle and lost. What. Happened?"
I muttered something unintelligible into the pillow.
"What?" Olivia snapped, yanking the pillow away. "Use your words, ma’am."
I sat up slowly, rubbing my temples, my mind already spiraling at the thought of telling her the truth. Because the moment I said his name, there would be no going back.
"I…" I swallowed, still avoiding her gaze. "I went home with someone."
Silence.
Then a gasp so dramatic it could win an Oscar.
"You. WHAT?" Olivia shrieked, grabbing my arm, shaking me. "WHO? WHO DID YOU GO HOME WITH? WHY DID YOU NOT CALL ME?"
I winced, bracing myself.
Her eyes widened as realization hit. "Oh my God. You slept with someone, didn’t you?"
I froze, my heart lurching into my throat.
"Wait—" she gasped again, leaning in, whispering like she was sharing government secrets. "Was it the hot guy from the bar? The one you were all over?"
I exhaled slowly, trying to prepare myself. Because there was no way around this.
"No," I said, my voice quiet but firm.
Olivia blinked. "No?"
I finally turned to her, forcing myself to meet her gaze, and then I said the words that would change my life forever.
"It was Malcolm."
Dead. Silence.
The kind of silence that sucks all the air out of a room, where you can actually hear the world shifting, adjusting to the weight of a single revelation.
Olivia’s jaw dropped.
She didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe.
She just stared at me.
Then—
Screaming.
"Oh my GOD!" she shrieked, launching herself off the couch, pacing like her brain physically could not handle this information. "You slept with Malcolm Sinclair?! MALCOLM?"
I flinched, gripping the pillow tighter. "Liv, please. My head is killing me."
"I do not care about your head, Summer!" she cried, flailing her arms. "You—you slept with Malcolm. Malcolm, as in your childhood best friend. Malcolm, as in the guy you never shut up about when we were teenagers. Malcolm, as in THE BILLIONAIRE MALCOLM SINCLAIR?!"
"Yes," I groaned, dragging the pillow over my face.
"This is—this is—insane." Olivia’s voice pitched higher, her hands on her head like she was physically holding in her brain.
"Trust me, I know," I muttered, my voice muffled against the fabric.
She let out a hysterical laugh, pacing even faster. "Wait, wait, wait. So let me get this straight. You got wasted, made out with him without realizing it was him, and THEN just casually took him home and had sex with him?"
I groaned louder, refusing to remove the pillow from my face. "Please stop summarizing it like that."
"Oh my God," Olivia whispered, her voice filled with pure, unfiltered glee. "This is better than a movie. This is better than any drama I’ve ever watched. Summer, you—you accidentally slept with your childhood best friend."
I sat up quickly, pointing at her. "Okay, first of all, I did not know it was him at first. Second, I blame whiskey. And third, can you please stop looking like you’re about to pass out from excitement?"
Olivia ignored everything I said. "So how was it?"
I choked. "What?!"
She smirked. "You heard me."
"I am NOT talking about this with you!"
"Oh, you absolutely are." She plopped back down onto the couch, grinning like a maniac. "Was he good? No—was he amazing? Actually, was he the best? Because let’s be real, Malcolm Sinclair looks like he knows exactly what he’s doing."
"Olivia!" I screeched, covering my flaming face.
She cackled, shaking her head in pure disbelief. "I cannot believe this. This is golden. Years. YEARS, Summer. You spent years pretending he didn’t exist, and now—BOOM. He’s in your bed."
I groaned. "I know, Olivia. I was there."
She paused, then narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Wait. Is this over? Or…?"
I stiffened. "What?"
She squinted at me. "Are you seeing him again?"
"No," I blurted immediately.
She did not believe me for a second.
"Mmhmm," she hummed, tapping her chin. "You sure about that?"
"Yes," I said firmly. "It was a one-time mistake. That’s it."
"Right," Olivia mused, tilting her head. "And that’s why you look like you’re on the verge of a full-blown identity crisis."
I whipped around to glare at her. "I AM NOT."
She grinned. "You are so in trouble."
I threw a pillow at her.
She dodged it effortlessly, laughing so hard she nearly fell off the couch.
I collapsed backward, groaning dramatically, my hands over my face. Because no matter how much I denied it, no matter how much I tried to pretend this was nothing, I could still feel Malcolm’s lips on mine.
And that terrified me.