Pieces of Olivia (10 page)

“Maybe.”

I glanced back at Rose. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “Let’s say there are ghosts, like Doris and Gertrude. Maybe Claire is here, watching you this very moment. And if that was possible, if she was here, what would you say?”

I tucked my hair behind my ears, feeling uncomfortable and exposed. I couldn’t talk about this, not in the open when my voice could carry with the wind, giving away my deepest thoughts to some passerby. “I don’t know.”

“Fine.” Rose took the box from me and started to walk away. “We are done here.”

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“Home,” she called over her shoulder. “I told you. If you won’t—”

I sighed heavily. “Okay.” Rose spun around, waiting. “I would tell her that I’m sorry.” She took a step closer. “I would tell her that she was the smart one of our group. The witty one. I would tell her that everyone stopped talking when she spoke, as if her words were truth and we needed to hear them to carry on.” A tear slipped from the corner of my eye, and I swiped it away. “I would tell her that she was the perfect friend, and that I’m sorry she felt like a third, when really she was what kept us all together.”

Rose draped her arm around my shoulders. “I think if Claire were here right now, she would hug you and tell you that you were a great friend, too.”

“Really?” I asked, the word barely escaping before I broke into sobs.

“Really.” Rose hugged me close, resting her chin on my head as she patted my back. And for the first time, I didn’t try to hide my tears. I let them fall until the guilt and pain and sadness on my chest began to lift.

Until, finally, I could breathe again.

I walked into my dorm room twenty minutes later to find Kara on the phone, arguing, no doubt with Ethan. Since he had left on Sunday, they had argued nearly every day, securing my opinion that long-distance equaled disaster, but I didn’t say anything. Instead, I crept over to my side of the room and dropped my bag, hoping I could get to the shower before she got off the phone.

I had been taking concealer with me to my sessions with Rose for a few weeks now, so I was able to cover up the bulk of the damage from my cry-fest. But my eyes were still puffy and bloodshot and basically looked as though I’d either hit a bar or spent the last hour crying.

I reached beside my bed for a fresh towel from the stack I kept there and heard Kara drop her phone onto her bed. Crap.

“He’s going to one of those stupid sorority crush parties. Can you believe that? And as some girl’s date. I could seriously spit fire right now, I’m so mad.” I straightened, curious if I could hold a conversation with my back to her. “Olivia?”

Okay, clearly not.

I turned around, ready to launch into my advice—the same advice I always gave, because there was no good advice when it came to the complexity of relationships—when her gaze zeroed in on my eyes and she covered her mouth with her hands. “Oh my God, what happened?”

I shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just windy outside today and I was out on the pier.”

She cocked her head, her eyebrows scrunching together. “Yeah, no. Try again.”

I opened my mouth.

“Is this about Preston and whatever happened Saturday night?”

I sucked in a breath. Had he told her? Surely not. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. You left the movie. Then he left the movie. And when I asked him about it later, he told me to mind my own damn business, which is the equivalent of Preston saying that something is bothering him.”

I contemplated my options. I could admit the crazy thing, talk about Rose and my struggles there. Or I could openly tell her that I have feelings for Preston. But he was her best friend. How would she react?

Kara stood up and walked over to me, turning me around so I was facing the mirror. “This is what you look like. Just so you know.” I stared at my wrecked face, saw the doubt and sadness in my eyes. I thought I hid it better. “I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but I care about you, and you look like this. I don’t think you would let me walk away if I looked like this.”

I sighed heavily and started in on the truth . . . and realized I could almost tell her enough of it to make a reasonable excuse. She didn’t need to know how I felt about Preston. That would only complicate things, and we had established at the movie that there would never be an
us
. “I lost my best friend just before graduation. I see a therapist here to help me, you know, deal. Preston drove by one day when I was walking home, which is how he knew. The movie brought back memories, so I stepped out. He left to check on me, that’s all.”

“So, were you just with your therapist? Is that why you’ve been crying?” She didn’t ask how Trisha had died or if I had been involved in the incident. It was one of the things I loved most about Kara. She never pushed. I suspected it was because she had her own closet of secrets, but I, like her, was never one to push, so I couldn’t be sure.

I nodded. “Yes. Apparently, I’m unable to see Rose
without
crying. It’s pathetic, really.” I sat down on my bed and crossed my legs, and Kara sat on hers, mimicking my pose. “Enough of my dramatic crap. Let’s talk about yours.”

Kara laughed. “Yeah, it feels like dramatic crap after what you just told me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know. It’s just . . .” She shrugged, trailing off. “It shouldn’t be this hard.” Her gaze settled on me, and I knew what she was going to ask. “What do you think I should do? Like really think, not the impartial crap you usually spout out. What do you think? You’re my closest friend, aside from Preston. I trust your opinion.”

I released a long breath. The thing about voicing your opinion? You couldn’t take it back once you put it out there. But Kara and I would never become the type of friends I hoped we would become if I couldn’t be honest with her. “I agree, it shouldn’t be this hard, but I’m not sure it really is as hard as you’re making it. Don’t hate me.”

She shook her head. “No. I think you’re right. I just can’t seem to trust him there. I’m all nervous and paranoid and so damn jealous. It consumes me.”

“If you can, try not to let it. If he’s going to cheat, then he’s going to cheat. You worrying about it won’t change that fact. You have to decide whether you trust him. And if you don’t, if in your heart you really don’t, then I think you have your answer.”

Kara sighed, her eyes now filled with sadness, and I immediately wished I’d kept my mouth shut. Most of the time, we already knew the bad stuff, the answer, the problem. We didn’t need others telling us. It only made it worse. “We’ve just been together for so long, through so much.”

“I know just how you feel. Was he your only boyfriend in high school?” I thought of Matt, how our names had become linked. Matt and Olive. Never just one. It used to annoy me toward the end of senior year, how whenever I went anywhere without him, someone would ask where he was and why I was alone. As though I couldn’t be just me, Olive, anymore. I glanced up, realizing that Kara had yet to answer. She was staring at me, her eyes full of something different. Like she was torn on how much to say. “Sorry . . . I didn’t mean to . . .” I said, but I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for exactly.

“No, it’s not that. I . . . no, Ethan wasn’t my only boyfriend in high school. I had a serious boyfriend before him, but . . . Well, let’s just say it didn’t end well.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Kara went over to her desk and began sorting through the school papers she’d tossed there the day before. I watched her, watched as she busied herself to keep from looking at me. I’d done the same thing a thousand times when my mom or dad or one of my sisters would ask about the fire. I knew too well the signs of someone shutting down, closing up shop, unwilling to talk anymore.

I stretched out my arms and stood up. “I’m going to take a shower. Want to go grab something to eat after?”

Kara’s face lit up with relief. “Sure. I’m starving.”

I smiled. “Okay, give me ten.” I went into the bathroom to shower up and get ready, but I couldn’t get the change in Kara out of my mind. The look on her face, so full of guilt. I wondered what had happened with that other boyfriend. Maybe he had cheated. Or maybe she had. Maybe it was even with Ethan, which would maybe explain her trust issues with him. If they had cheated on other people, then what would prevent him from cheating on her? I wasn’t sure. But one thing was evident: there was a lot more to my roommate than she let on.

Dear Trisha,

I realized today that it has been two weeks since I’ve written to you. My therapist calls this progress, but the truth is, I still think about writing you. I’ve thought of writing you every one of the last fourteen days. But each time I opened up the email, no words came, and it’s brought me to tears more times than I can count. What does it mean if I have nothing to say? I’m terrified that I’m forgetting you, or worse, that I’m allowing it to happen. I go through my days, I live, and each day, little by little, I’m less your friend, and more a stranger.

Olive

I slipped into bio half a second before Dr. Carter arrived at the door to lock it. He shot me a disapproving look. “Nice of you to join us, Olivia. Find your seat. I was just about to pass out the exams.”

I found my row and edged past the other students, ignoring the disgruntled glares of those trying to prepare for the exam, and plopped down in the seat beside Preston.

“Nice one. Not everyone’s brave enough to piss off the professor on exam day,” Preston whispered with a grin.

“Shut up.”

“Cranky. You and Kara must be drinking the same water.”

It had been weeks since our talk outside the theater. At first, we ignored each other, but then somehow an unspoken truce was made, and we went back to how we were prior to the unveiling of our feelings. I had no idea what Preston thought now, I only knew that it was easy for him to put aside his feelings, which suggested that maybe he never really had them in the first place. I felt a jab in my chest at the thought. I had learned to put on a front after the fire. I knew how to pretend that everything was fine, so with Preston, I did. But inside, every time I saw him or heard his name, my heart tensed up just a little, as though it were preparing for the pain to come.

“What happened with Kara?” I whispered.

Preston leaned toward me, his eyes on Dr. Carter. “She got pissed because I refused to go with her on our parents’ trip to the cabin. Each fall, our folks get together at our family cabin. She has no choice but to go, and if I refuse, it’s just her and them.” He shuddered. “I feel bad . . . Nah. I don’t.” He laughed, which resulted in a sharp look from Carter.

“Why won’t you go?” I pulled four pencils out of my bag and eyed them, trying to decide which felt luckiest for the exam.

“What the hell are you doing?” Preston asked.

“What does it look like? I’m deciding which pencil to use.”

He shook his head and grabbed a purple one from my hand. “There. Use that one.” Then he put the rest out of grasp.

“Hey!” I grabbed at the pencils, but he kept them as far from my reach as possible.

“I’m doing this for your own good. OCD is a serious illness. Consider me your therapist.”

I sighed heavily. “Sorry, the role of Olivia’s therapist is already taken.”

Preston cleared his throat and looked away. “Oh . . . right. I didn’t mean—”

“You’re fine. But again, why won’t you go with Kara? Sounds like you’re being difficult on purpose.”

“Ya know, you sound more and more like her everyday. This is definitely not a good thing for me.”

“Whatever. Answer the question.”

He looked away again. “It’s simple. I can’t be gone an entire weekend. I don’t have anyone to feed my cat.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “You are so full of crap. That isn’t why. Cats practically take care of themselves. What’s the real reason?”

“That is the real reason, Dr. Warren.”

“Fine, I’ll feed your cat. Now you can go.”

He turned to look at me, a hint of the Preston he’d been outside the theater returning. His gaze moved across my face, as though trying to find an answer to a question he hadn’t asked. He focused back on Dr. Carter, who was handing out exams only a few rows ahead of us now. “You’re going to tell Kara you offered, aren’t you?”

“You know it.”

“Fine. Ask Kara for my apartment key. I gave her a copy last year, she should still have it.”

I grinned in silence as Dr. Carter handed our row the exams.

“What are you grinning at?” Preston whispered as he handed me an exam.

“What can I say? I love to win.”

***

I closed the door to Kara’s Mini Cooper and stared up at Preston’s apartment. I knew he wasn’t there, but still, I couldn’t keep myself from feeling nervous and jittery.

Kara and Preston had left on Friday night to go to his parent’s cabin, and I had spent most of the night surfing through Preston’s photos on Facebook, getting lost in all the places he had visited and the things he had done. He rarely posted an update, and when he did, it was often about someone else. A happy birthday or a congratulations. I took my time examining each photo, no longer having to worry about Kara rushing into the room and asking questions I wasn’t prepared to answer. It was the first time I’d had the dorm to myself. I considered writing to Trisha, knowing I had the freedom to cry as hard and as long as I needed, but for some reason, I didn’t want to turn to her. I didn’t want to cry. I just wanted to look at Preston’s photos and daydream about becoming a part of them.

I waited until the very last minute on Saturday night to go check on his cat. Even though I’d made the offer, I didn’t know how I would feel once I stepped into his apartment and smelled his clean, spicy scent. I remembered from the last time I was there how the entire place smelled like him, as though no one else had ever stepped foot inside. I thought of his rule of never allowing a girl in his apartment and felt a surge of pride that he trusted me with his key.

I unlocked his door, flicked on the light in his entryway, and began calling the cat. Only she didn’t come. I went over to the food and water bowls that he had left out and refreshed each, but still, no sign of the cat. Fear hit in my chest as possibilities ran through my mind. Maybe the landlord came over to spray for bugs or whatever they did and somehow she had gotten out. Surely not. I hoped not. I drew a breath and listened, hoping to hear a meow or a purr or something that hinted at life. Nothing. I stared at his closed bedroom door. Maybe he’d shut her inside by accident. I reached for the doorknob, but released it without turning. I couldn’t go inside his bedroom. That violated every privacy standard on the planet, yet there was no sign of his cat.

I checked under the sofa. In the pantry. Behind every table and around every corner. Nothing. No sign of her.

I reached for the bedroom door again. She had to be inside. I couldn’t just leave her in there to starve. I turned the knob and pushed it open, expecting a spazzed-out cat to dart out, but she didn’t emerge. I eased inside his room, planning to just check under his bed, but something about his room drew me in. The bedding was a simple blue and tan plaid, the curtains the same blue as the bedding. The only thing on the wall was a largemouth bass over his bed. Beyond that, there were no pictures, no decorations, yet . . .

I sat down on the edge of his bed, allowing the warmth of the room to settle over me. It felt so much like Preston. I closed my eyes and breathed in his scent. Immediately, I was back at the theater, feeling his body against mine, his hands on my face as he told me that he wanted me. I drew another breath, relishing in the clean, spicy, all-man smell. It was so real, as though he were—

“I see you found my room.”

I jumped up and spun around to find Preston standing in the doorway, gripping the doorframe above him. He had on loose-fitting jeans and a worn T-shirt and a cocky grin that made my cheeks burn at being caught in his room.

“Uh, hey. Yeah. I was looking for your cat. She wouldn’t come out when I called her, so I thought maybe—”

“You thought maybe you would find her while sitting on my bed? With your eyes closed?” The grin widened.

“I . . .” What could I possibly say? “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I . . .” I checked my watch to give myself something to do other than swim in my humiliation. “It’s late, I should go.” I started toward the door when he stepped toward me.

“Or . . . you could stay.”

My eyes lifted to his. “Stay?”

“Stay.” He took another step toward me, everything Preston invading my senses—his smell, his warmth, the need to feel his touch. “We can watch a movie. Anything you want. I had a venti on the way home, so I’m wired.”

I eyed my watch again. It was nearly eleven.

“I have popcorn.” Another step. “With extra butter.”

What was happening? Just two days ago, we sat in bio together and he acted like we were nothing at all, and now . . .

I glanced up. He was so close. Close enough that if I leaned an inch his way, we would be touching, and then I knew all control would be lost. Preston didn’t do relationships, but how much longer could I resist him?

“Popcorn?”

“With butter.”

I licked my lip, and his gaze immediately dipped down, as if he wanted a taste for himself.

“Okay.” I took a step back before I lost every bit of my self-respect. “Where are the movies?”

Preston moved aside and motioned out into his common area. “In the cabinet below the TV. You’ll find almost everything. Pick whatever. I’ll get the popcorn going.”

I went through his bedroom door and inhaled a long, calming breath. I didn’t know how much longer I could do this, pretend that there was nothing between us and act as though it didn’t matter to me. I wanted Preston in every possible way. But was that enough? Rose claimed that I wanted to control things, that I wasn’t willing to just jump in. Could I prove her wrong, the way she wanted me to do?

I opened his movie cabinet and sat down on the ground, crossing my legs like a five-year-old, and began sorting through the movies. He was right. He had every movie imaginable. I went through each one twice, and then finally settled on the original
X-Men
, one of my favorites.

I opened up his Blu-ray player and put the movie inside, then grabbed his remote and turned on the TV, flipping through until I had it set to the Blu-ray. I turned around to find Preston watching me.

“What?”

He shrugged. “Nothing. Just most wait for me to set everything up. It’s . . . you’re . . . just different.” Our eyes locked, and I wondered if he saw in mine what I saw in his—a battle between desire and the need to protect himself, protect his heart. Was that what this was really about? Was he as afraid as I was?

The sound of popcorn popping filled the silence, while the smell of butter wafting from the kitchen caused my stomach to growl.

“I’ve yet to see your cat,” I said, breaking the silence.

Preston leaned against the counter in his kitchen, his gaze roaming around the room in search of the cat. He raised his arms over his head in a stretch, and his T-shirt snaked up, exposing several inches of his toned stomach. Heat pooled low in my belly, and suddenly a different evening flashed through my mind. An evening without movies or popcorn—or clothes. “Yeah, she’s petrified of everyone,” he said. “She only recently let Kara hold her.”

“When did you get her?” I asked, hoping to shake the earlier image from my mind.

The microwave beeped and he went back to the kitchen, opening cabinets and banging things around, before returning with a giant bowl of popcorn and two bottles of water. “About a year ago. She was a stray roaming around the apartments. Just a kitten. Some idiots across the way were shooting pellets at her. I found her hiding out in the bushes out front.”

I smiled.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just cute, you saving a tiny kitten from the mean boys.”

“Yeah, well, they weren’t nearly as tough when I banged on their door and told them if I saw another pellet fly I was going to pellet their asses. Here’s your water.” He handed me a bottle and set the popcorn down beside me on the couch, before taking a seat on the other side of the bowl. “What are we watching?”

“
X-Men
. I’m sort of a Marvel junkie.”

He reached for some popcorn. “Are you sure you’re from Westlake?”

I laughed. “Hey, we’re not all so bad.”

“I think you underestimate how rare you are. And not just in Westlake. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

I twisted to look at him, completely taken aback by the compliment, but he refused to meet my gaze. Instead, he went for the lights and then we were alone in the dark, the cast from the TV the only hint of light in the room. I felt hyper-aware of him beside me, his movements, his breaths. I thought of the first time Matt and I went out, the excitement and nerves, but the memory held nothing compared to being here with Preston.

We finished the popcorn, and he set the bowl on the floor, freeing up the space between us. All of a sudden, every thought I had was focused on that distance, those few inches, and how I could close the gap without appearing obvious. I reached over for my bottle of water, my mind on Rose’s words on life and control.

“Olivia . . .”

I peered over, ignoring Wolverine’s epic fight in the background. Ignoring the sound of my pulse in my ears, my heart in my chest. “Yes?”

His eyes swept over my face, and I knew what was about to happen. I could see the resolve in his face. Feel the swift change in the air as the charge between us sparked. He leaned toward me, his eyes never leaving mine.

“I’m not going to kiss you,” I whispered.

“I didn’t ask.”

“Preston, we . . .”

He tucked my hair behind my ear and moved still closer. “I can’t promise anything. I have nothing in me to promise, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try.”

I swallowed, feeling the walls around me crumbling down.

“Let me be what you need.”

My breath caught, the fight in me diminishing with each spoken word. What was I so afraid of? I reached out, gliding my fingertips over his face and into his hair. Briefly, I thought of how often I’d dreamt of touching his hair, and then his mouth was on mine, and all thought was gone, except him and us and this moment. His lips took control, first soft and careful, and then full of urgency and need. Every unspoken word, every missed opportunity, was pushed into that single kiss.

Preston laid me back on the sofa, his body warm and inviting. My fingers gripped his hair, pulling him closer, and he left my lips, kissing a trail down my chin to my neck. A soft moan escaped my lips, and he thrust his hips against mine in answer to my ache. Our bodies moved together, our clothes the only thing keeping us from taking this further.

I tugged his chin up so his lips were back on mine, the kiss growing to a frenzy of passion. His hand slid under the edge of my shirt, gliding over my stomach, before finding my breast. He groaned with pleasure, and I reached down to take his shirt off, eager to touch his impeccably toned chest and stomach. Preston slipped his shirt off and gripped mine, his intentions clear, when reality yanked me from pleasure and threw me into a sea of painful thoughts. I remembered my scars, and Preston’s expression when he’d gotten a glimpse of them through my shirt at the pier. I shook my head, feeling myself tumbling deeper into sadness and farther from the moment.