18. Olivia
Olivia
Oli: Some chick just tried to flirt with me at the coffee shop.
Oli: And gave me her phone number!
This is absolutely mortifying. I can’t be that attractive as a guy for her to want to hit on me. Right? Fuck.
Jordy: Well, slap my ass and call me Jordan. You’re actually a hot dude! Now I owe Remi 20 bucks…
Oli: Never say that again…and 20 bucks? Seriously?
Jordy: Don’t worry your pretty little head, Livy!
Oli: You made a bet, didn’t you?
Jordy: It’s a possibility…
Oli: Have fun with your new parole guards, asshole.
Jordy: Ouch. That hurts, Livy. Just you wait…we’re hot on the trail of our thief.
Oli: You mean the one you bumped uglies with, right? You tell Remi and Colt yet? Maybe I should text them the bacon emoji and see how you like that.
Jordy: I plead the fifth. Gotta goooo! **Waving GIF**
Idiot. I swear. Of course, they made a bet about me. And pulling Remi and Colt into it? Unbelievable. Actually, not unbelievable; it’s practically their religion to make stupid bets and play stupid games.
One day, they’ll win the stupidest prize in existence. And I’ll be here to laugh at their expense.
I sigh, putting my phone into my pocket as Wilder and I walk out the double doors of the café and into the bright sunshine.
The look in Stephanie’s half-lidded eyes when she batted her long lashes and flirted with me has heat filling my cheeks.
Again. She ate me alive with her stare, practically devouring me where I stood.
But I don’t understand why.
I peer down at myself. I’m not even that attractive as a dude.
I’m boring. At least compared to Wilder and every other man who walks this campus.
I swear it’s a requirement to exist here.
Like Wilder, his arm muscles bulge with every move he makes.
And that jawline? So sharp he could probably cut glass with it.
And me? Well, I’m smaller than most guys on campus.
I mean, I’m not short, but I’m not over six feet, unless you give me high heels; then I tower over some guys.
That fact does not make them happy. I have no bulky muscles or a chiseled jaw to set me apart from the other dudes.
So, why me?
The phone number written on the side of my cup stares back at me mockingly. She was gorgeous. Anyone could see that. Hell, if the roles were reversed, I probably would offer the same thing. Well, maybe not my number. But a nice romp in the café bathroom would have sufficed.
But I’m not here for romance or other things. At least, that’s what I tell myself when I feel Wilder’s gaze staring a hole straight through my head, and heat rushes to my cheeks again. I guess this was an unavoidable encounter.
Everything is unavoidable on this campus. JJ. Hux. Mack. Malic. Wilder. They were always going to be sniffing around and trying to talk to me.
Wilder, especially.
He’s been considerate over text. Checking up on me when I was “sick” and offering to bring me soup. A fucked up part of me wanted to say yes to him, but I didn’t want anyone to see me like that.
There’s something different about Wilder, though.
Something I can’t put my finger on. As we walk through campus, I peek up and take him in.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask why he carries a single cigarette behind his ear without lighting it.
Years ago, he smoked every time I saw him.
Granted, it wasn’t often. Our interactions were limited.
Sometimes I wonder if he truly knew who I was beyond the girl dating his brother and his two best friends.
He only came around to talk to Mack about their mom or harass him.
I barely knew Wilder. Then and now.
“You gonna call her?” Wilder asks in a rough voice, sipping his coffee and pretending like he’s not staring at me with an odd sparkle in his eyes.
“Probably not,” I shoot back, taking a quick drink of my coffee to occupy my mouth.
“Why the fuck not?” he asks, twisting his expression and finally looking deep into my eyes.
“She was really into you, Man. I go there every day, and she never looks at me the way she did you.” A smirk pulls at his lips.
“You should take her up on it. Who knows, maybe you’d have fun.
You look like you need some fun.” He takes several drinks of his coffee and bites into his donut like a wild animal tearing apart his prey, and crumbs spread on the sidewalk.
My nose wrinkles. What the hell is that supposed to mean?
I need a little fun? Do I walk around looking like I have a stick up my ass?
Rude. I have fun, damn it. On my own time, with my own vices.
Thank you, Jack Daniel’s, for your amazing contributions.
I hum, taking several bites of my own donut and groaning at the taste.
God, I missed this sweet treat. I haven’t gotten myself one of these in ages.
Again, something sparks in Wilder’s eyes as he whips his gaze away from me and focuses on his breakfast again.
I can’t help myself as I stare at his Adam’s apple bobbing with every drink and swallow.
It’s almost erotic. Transfixing me. Small blond hairs gleam on the top of his shaved head as we make our way toward our first class of the day.
The same class I share with Mack.
I swallow hard, trying not to think about that.
You have a job to do. You’re ready for anything. You’re an agent of Veritas. No one can fuck with you.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that, idiot. You’re already losing the damn plot.
“I’m focusing on my studies,” I lamely say, trying to avoid the situation altogether.
Or maybe I should call her? But I don’t want to lead anyone on.
That would be tricky territory. I’m in disguise and not who she thinks I am.
I may be Oliver on the outside, but I’m Olivia on the inside.
Besides, the more invisible I can be, the better off I’ll be in the end.
Especially with JJ sniffing around and blackmailing me into study sessions.
Ugh.
Right.
I have to attend that tonight. What a great way to end the day.
My stomach fills with apprehension, turning slightly as we stand before Livy Hall.
Tall. Imposing. A plaque with my damn name on it.
When I first arrived, seeing my name here shocked me.
Why would they? Was it all a front to fake their grief?
But then JJ marched into my dorm room with determination and utter shock, with tears in his eyes at the sight of me.
Tears that I had made it out of the fire and had been hiding from him.
Then, it seemed like an act. His greatest performance. Now? His words echo in my brain, haunting me every time I close my eyes or walk around this stupid campus, or look at this building in memoriam of me.
How romantic. They dedicated a building to the girl they killed.
I rub my temple, begging the headache to quiet down and stop sounding like a damn rock band echoing against my skull.
Maybe I should have taken some ibuprofen before I stepped outside.
Or maybe I shouldn’t have stepped out at all.
Numbing amounts of alcohol call my name from afar, begging me to indulge one more time.
Anything to quell the chaotic thoughts running me ragged.
Thoughts of doubt. Thoughts of revenge. Thoughts about this case. This town. These fucking people. Them. Thoughts about every-fucking-thing happening.
Leave me be, already. Let me live my damn life without all this bullshit.
Whatever. I need a new plan to focus on.
One besides the Veritas case and getting close to Franco and the boys.
Maybe I should lean into the case more. Get closer to JJ and suss out whether he’s telling the truth. Closure for me.
Not for Jonathan. Or Veritas. Me.
I deserve that much after all the bullshit I went through in the past and my grueling training with Veritas.
All the cases I blindly went on for him without question.
My loyalty has never strayed. But I can’t get the look on Jonathan’s face out of my damn memories.
The desperation he spewed when he told me to come back here—consequences be damned.
I take a deep breath, returning my focus to Wilder. He stares at me like I’m an idiot for not calling Stephanie.
“Suit yourself. She was into you, though.” He shrugs, finishing off his coffee and pastry and tossing them in the trash outside Livy Hall.
“Would you call her?” I ask without thinking.
Wilder snorts. “I’ve got other things to focus on.”
Right. Of course. Same, though.
The sun’s gleam on the side of the building catches my eye again as it bounces off the plaque with my nickname. But it’s not that. It’s the 224. The special number we always shared to signify our loyalty to each other.
“Why isn’t it Bryar Hall anymore?” I blurt, staring up at the bricks like they’ll give me the answers I’m desperately seeking.
“Oh, uh…” Wilder trails off, scratching the back of his neck with an unreadable expression. “They renamed it three years ago after some bigwig took over the university. She was friends with my brother.”
I swallow hard. More than friends is what I want to say. Enemies now, though.
“Oh,” I say lamely.
“But she died in a house fire. Some electrical issues. It was a big deal in town for a while.” His expression flickers slightly as a hint of something crosses through his eyes as he reads the plaque.
Electrical? Is that how they explained it away? Even with the gasoline they strategically spread through the home and on my mother’s body? How was that possible? Maybe I need to investigate that, too. Dig through the reports of our deaths.
“Did you know her well?” I stupidly ask, peering at him as his brows furrow. My need for real answers lingers on my tongue, pressing harder than before.