27. Olivia #2
“Right,” Wade says, scratching at his chin.
“Well, it was worth a try. At least he’s here.
Usually, he hides in our apartment, refusing to set foot outside.
So this is an improvement.” A student beside me asks Wade a quick question, taking his focus off me for a second, giving me time to peer around again and take it all in with my observant eye.
Several volunteers wander around, holding trays of juice boxes and leading students with bandages on their arms to a small recovery area with plastic seats from a classroom.
Everyone looks happy as they sit down and take their juice boxes along with some cookies another volunteer hands out.
Some students look a little disoriented and out of it as they nibble their cookies.
A nurse talks to them, suggesting they stay for a little while longer until they recover.
God, I hope that’s not me. Drinking copious amounts of alcohol and blacking out the day before a blood drive probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. But you live, and you learn, and I’m here anyway. Besides, no one said I was the smartest, either.
“Hey, man. Are you ready to fill out your forms?” Wade asks, bringing my attention back to him and out of my thoughts.
Right. Forms. I forgot that part. Any time you want to donate blood or anything else medical, you have to fill out paperwork with your name, Social Security number, and blood type.
Shit. What is my blood type? What the hell am I supposed to put on forms like this?
My undercover name, yes. But Oliver Davenport doesn’t technically exist.
“Uh, yeah, thanks.”
Wade holds up a tablet, clicks a few times on the screen, then turns it around and hands it to me.
“Fill this out, and then Dr. Lohr will go over your answers and your health screening. Once that’s all done, she’ll introduce you to a nurse, and they’ll get started with your draw. Shouldn’t take more than an hour.”
“Thanks, man. I’ll get this filled out.” I walk away with the tablet and take a seat.
More plastic chairs rest on either side of me in a line, but it seems I’m the only one prepping to have my blood drawn right now.
I blow out a breath and peer at the screen, internally groaning.
There are so many questions lining the screen, and more as I scroll through.
An hour? This will take all day, especially since I have to think like Oliver, not Olivia. Geez. I hope they won’t be able to tell I’m lying through my teeth.
But whatever. I need to raise my grades and scope out the blood drive.
Taking a break from the first few questions, I peer up at Wade as a huge grin spreads across his lips and exposes the whites of his teeth.
He leans in toward his phone with greedy eyes, taking in whatever he’s looking at.
The pink of his tongue pokes out and glides across his top teeth as a pleased laugh falls from his throat.
And for the first time since I’ve met him, his entire being lights up, and his chest puffs out.
I wonder what has Wade so occupied? Does he have a partner?
Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Shit. You know, I don’t know a lot about Wade.
Sure, he’s in and out of the dorm frequently, volunteering at the animal shelter and for things like the blood drive.
At least, I think. He’s barely around, only showing his face every morning and evening.
But Simon vouches for him, swearing up and down that he’s a good guy with good intentions.
I haven’t gotten a whiff of bad vibes from him.
Taking my eyes off him, I focus on filling out my paperwork and lying my ass off.
It’s so weird to write a male name and a different last name.
Sometimes I fall into this identity. I’ve gotten used to being called Oli instead of Liv.
I’ve gotten used to scurrying back to my dorm to use the restroom to avoid getting side glances for sitting down in the stall.
If there is a stall. Ya know, men’s bathrooms really lack privacy.
Why do they have to pee so close together?
Shouldn’t there be at least a six-foot rule?
I think there should be. Because no thank you to peeing with dicks so close together that you can peek at them.
Not that I ever have.
“Are you all done?”
I jerk out of my weird wandering thoughts and blink at Wade, who sits next to me.
Shit. When did he sneak up on me? He leans back in the plastic seat with a heavy sigh and blows out a breath as he gets comfortable.
The heat of his stare, burning right through me as I continue to type out my information, has me squirming in my seat.
“Almost,” I reply quickly, continuing to focus on putting the right information on the form.
My finger hovers above the screen at the sight of the blood type question.
I knew it would be on here. Normal people know their blood type.
Right? Fuck. I rack my brain, trying to remember what the hell it is, but it’s not something I ever discussed with my mom. In fact, I’m not sure it ever came up.
If only she were still living to answer all the questions I have about our family and her life before she was Espie Viotto.
I wonder if Uncle would have answers for me? He knew everything else about my life. But if I texted him, he probably wouldn’t respond. Technically, I’m only supposed to text or email him questions regarding the case. He knows I’m being forced into this blood drive and hasn’t said a word against it.
Actually, I haven’t heard from him lately. Not since I checked in and informed him of my tutoring sessions with JJ.
“You can leave the blood type blank if you don’t know. They’ll test it into oblivion after it’s donated and will be able to write it in later.” Wade points to the screen with a shrug.
“Test it? Is that normal?” My brows crinkle at the realization. Of course, they’re going to test my blood. But can they tell I’m playing pretend? Would they even care?
“Oh, yeah. They test it for everything. Blood type. Diseases. Elevated white blood counts. Everything,” he says, relaxing into his seat. “It’s standard protocol for us to ensure your health forms are accurate and that it’s safe for the clinics.”