Finding Olivia (Trace + Olivia #1) (2 page)

“Apparently not,” I muttered and laid back on my twin sized bed, covering my face with my pillow.

I knew it was going to be a long night, one filled with Avery pairing every possible clothing option in her closet and then proceeding to pick them apart.

I’d probably show up to get my car fixed, looking completely fashionable thanks to Avery, but dead on my feet
from lack of sleep.

I’m sure Trace wouldn’t find it attractive if I yawned in his face. I don’t think
anyone
found yawning attractive.

“Avery,” I huffed, throwing my pillow off my face and sitting up. She turned away from her closet and raised a brow. “If I’m going to go through with this, then I need my sleep. Don’t spend all night in your closet.”

“You suck,” she stuck her tongue out but closed the closet doors. “This will only make it take longer in the morning, but whatever,” she shrugged, climbing into her bed and adjusting the straps of her tank-top. I didn’t understand how she slept in a tank and shorts, even in the winter.

I rose from my bed and changed into my pajamas, hoping that tomorrow went smoothly, but knowing
with my luck it would be
anything
but smooth.

c h a p t e r

Two

“Avery!” I shrieked, coming awake and sitting straight up in bed, my hair sticking up in random places. “For the love of my sanity,
please
, go back to bed!”

She turned around, pouting her lips at me, and
placed a hand on her slender hip. “You convinced me to go to bed last night without planning our outfits, I agreed. Now, you want to get huffy with me for getting up
early
to help
you
?” She eyed me.

“I
reluctantly
agreed to this, and I already regret it,” I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “It’s six am, Avery. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to see Trace in the next hour.”

She eyed my sleep-raddled appearance. “I would certainly hope you’re not seeing him in the next hour. It will take at least two…maybe three to have you looking decent,” she turned back to
my
closet and scanned through
my
clothes.

“Avery!”

“God,” she turned around, glaring at me, “you are so cranky in the mornings! This is the last time I try to help you! I fully expect a Starbucks Frappuccino for this.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get your Frapp fix.”

“That’s all I ask,” she grinned, climbing onto her bed, looking through one of her various fashion magazines.

“Ugh,” I groaned when a few minutes
past and I hadn’t fallen back asleep.

“What?” Avery asked, not bothering to glance away from the
glossy pages of the magazine.

“Thanks to you, I’m wide awake,” I grumbled, rolling over on my right side, facing the wall. I punched my pillow
, to fluff it up, but nothing was working. I was awake and I knew there was no hope of falling back asleep. “I hate you so much,” I muttered, sitting up in bed.

Avery grinned. “Does this mean I get to pick out our outfits now?”

“Yes-” The whole word hadn’t even left my mouth, before she was up, and across the room.

I rolled my eyes
and slipped from the bed.

Since
, I was up early, I might as well shower. I grabbed my bag of necessities and stepped into the bathroom we shared with the two girls beside us.

If there was one thing I missed about my dad’s house, it was having my own bathroom.

I luxuriated in the quiet space. I knew that as soon as I stepped back into our room, Avery would bombard me with five hundred different clothing options, and then force me to try all of them on.

I got out of the shower, and brushed through my wet hair, before pulling it into a bun. I dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, knowing I’d be changing into something else in a matter of minutes.

“That took forever,” Avery complained when I opened the door.

“You’re annoying,” I snapped, putting my bag down, and sitting on my bed.

Avery continued like I hadn’t said anything. “I think I’ve figured out what you should wear,” she motioned to an ensemble spread out on my bed. Funny, I hadn’t even noticed it.

“I think you should go simple but sexy. Just give him a taste, you know. We don’t want to show him all the goods up front,” she rattled, grabbing her breasts for emphasis. “So, I was thinking these jeans,” she stood beside me and pointed to them. “Paired with your yellow tank top, and this loose gray sweater, that’s mine,” she said, like as if I didn’t know that sweater
wasn’t
mine. “And,” she backed away, “I just bought these shoes, but since you’re a sister in need, I’ll give them to you.” She bent down, skimming through items on her closet floor, and pulled out a pair of black bootie high heels. They laced up the front and had three rows of studs on the side. “Since you said Trace had that whole bad boy thing going on,” she shrugged, “they’re perfect. What bad boy could resist these babies?” She held them up for my inspection.

“I’ll die in those,” I scoffed. “But they look amazing,” I reached for one.

Avery shrugged and handed both to me. “If you fall, make sure Trace is there so he can help you up.”

I rolled my eyes. “Woman, you are ridiculous.”

“It’s in the How to get a Guy Handbook,” she grinned.

“This handbook sounds stupid,” I joked.

“Hey,” Avery raised her hands in front of her chest in mock defense, “
I’m
the one actually having sex, so it must be working.”

“Whatever,” I laughed, “we’ll do it your way.”

“Good,” Avery grinned manically, “poor Trace Wentworth doesn’t stand a chance.”

★★★

I looked at myself in the floor length mirror on Avery’s side of the room.

I don’t know how she did it, but I actually looked good.

My jeans hugged my legs and hips in all the right places. The small portion of the yellow tank top that showed, made me look like I still had a tan, from the summer. The gray sweater looked casual, like I wasn’t trying too hard. And the shoes? Oh, the shoes. They made the whole thing come together.

Avery clapped her hands together. “I told you so.”

“Yeah, you did,” I agreed, smoothing a hand down my leg. “But are you sure I don’t look, you know,
too
fixed up,” I fingered the end of the fishtail braid Avery had done. I had insisted on doing my own makeup. If I let Avery do my makeup I’d end up looking like I had my face painted on.

I turned around just in time to catch Avery rolling her eyes. “You look hot. Stop worrying about everything. Tracey-poo won’t be able to take his eyes off of you.”

I made a face of disgust. “You did not just say Tracey-poo.”

“I do believe that those were the words that left my mouth,” she winked, before looking in the mirror
, and swiping on
another
layer of her favorite lip-gloss. If she put on one more coat, her lips would stick together.

She had curled her
red hair so that it hung down her back like a shimmering curtain. Despite the fact that it was autumn, and definitely not warm outside, she was wearing a pair of high waisted shorts with ripped black tights underneath. The shirt she wore was red and glued to her body, covered by a pale jean jacket with studs on the shoulders. Her high heels were super pointy and could double as a weapon. I definitely wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of one of those spikes.

“Alright, we can go now,” Avery gave her hair a final fluff and then looked me over.

“Great,” I snapped. “Maybe, we’ll get back in time, and I won’t be late for my afternoon class.” It was already close to noontime.

“Oh puh-lease, Livie, it’s not even
lunchtime,” she bent to retrieve her purse.

I pouted. “Don’t remind me, I haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

“You’re such a baby,” Avery scolded. “Seriously, chillax.” She rummaged through her purse and produced a Special K Bar. Holding it up proudly, she waved it through the air. “
Here
is your breakfast.”

“That cardboard hardly constitutes breakfast,” I grumbled, but sna
tched the bar from her hand anyway. I ripped open the wrapper and began nibbling on it.

“Don’t be dramatic,” she dragged me behind her and down the stairwell.

The glass double doors opened to the campus grounds and I was happy to see that it was a sunny day. The past week had been full of bleak, overcast, gray skies.

I unlocked the doors
to my beat up Ford Focus and Avery eyed it like it was the grossest thing she’d ever seen. She constantly looked at my car like that, but it had always been reliable. At least, until last night, but it wasn’t really the car’s fault for getting a flat tire. It was mine. No, it was the nail’s fault. Better yet, it was the person’s fault that lost the stupid nail.

I brought up directions to Pete’s
Garage on my phone, and pulled out of the campus parking lot, into the morning traffic.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t far, maybe only ten minutes from campus and in the older part of the city.

I parked the car and stepped outside, searching for dark hair, searing green eyes, and a cocky smile.

Avery slipped out of the car elegantly and
looked around for her next conquest.

Licking her lips, she said, “I really hope that’s not Trace
, over there, because I’m about to be all over that guy.” She swayed her hips dramatically.

“Avery!” I hissed.

“What? Look at him,” she pointed.

I did
, and thankfully, it wasn’t Trace.

The guy was probably the same height as Trace but
broader. The thick-corded muscles of his arms were on full display because he only wore a vest; one of those vests that guys usually wore with suits. His jeans were loose on his wide frame and riddled with stains, his hands shoved into the pockets. On his head he wore a fedora, the wavy ends of his shaggy golden brown hair sticking out from underneath. Sandy brown stubble dotted his prominent jaw and his eyes were a piercing light blue. In fact, I didn’t know eyes could be that light. And between his pouty lips, sitting there as if an afterthought, was a lit cigarette.

“Is it him?” Avery asked.

“Huh?” I shook my head, turning away from the guy and toward her.

“Is that Trace?” She pointed to
the guy in the vest again.

“No,” I answered, “that’s not him.”

“Thank God for that,” she sighed in relief, making sure her clothes were in place, before sauntering towards him.

Vest
man looked up and smirked, taking the cigarette from between his lips and dropping it to the ground, crushing it with the toe of his boot. He looked Avery up and down, much the way she had studied him, and I hoped that she had finally met her match.

Not caring to stay around for the PDA that was bound to ensue, I walked into the garage.

No one seemed to be around but I heard the clinging of tools.

Several cars were up on lifts, with various parts scattered about.

The windows in the back of the garage, were clouded over with age, making it even darker in the space.

“Hello?” I
hesitantly called out.

“Hey,” a voice
answered from behind me. The sound of wheels scooting met my ears, like whoever had spoken was on a scooter.

I turned around, expecting to face a person, but found no one.

“Down here,” the voice said again, with a chuckle.

I glanced down and found Trace staring up at me from this
plastic bed looking thing with wheels.

A scream crawled up my throat and echoed around the empty garage. In my haste to scoot away, my feet tangled together in those darn heels, and I fell across the
top of his chest.

He grunted from the impact and my cheeks colored every shade of red in existence.

“Well,” he chuckled, “this is interesting.”

My eyes widened and I hastily scrambled away, somehow pushing my hand into his chest, causing him to grunt.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, falling back on my butt, only serving to embarrass myself further.

Trace laughed, shaking his head, and swung his legs over the side of the
bed thing.

Despite the cold temperature outside, he was wearing a white wife
-beater, loose jeans, and boots.

Standing, he reached down to help me up.

“Thanks,” I mumbled sheepishly, looking anywhere but at him.