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I haven’t told Hudson what happened with Olivia in New Hampshire. Haven’t told anyone, because she asked me not to. All I’ve been able to do is think about it—which I do just about every waking moment.
“Well, it’s obviously about Olivia,” Hudson says.
“Aren’t you a fucking detective all of a sudden,” I snark. Who else would it be about? Hudson knows I haven’t been with any other girls since I met Olivia months ago. “Well, lay it on me, Sherlock. What’s the easy solution?”
Hudson’s lips straighten, and for a moment I let hope buoy inside me. Is it possible he actually has some advice to offer that’s going help me finally convince Olivia to give me a real shot?
He shrugs. “Guess you’re right. It’s not so easily solvable. Olivia’s got her defenses way up when it comes to you, that’s for sure.”
I let out a groan.
“Swapping with Rhys to go to that gala wasn’t worth it, I take it?” he asks.
Oh, if only he fucking knew. I’d have given my left nut for the morning I had with Olivia. A month of doing Rhys’ laundry and chores for that? The trade of a damn lifetime.
“No, we had a great time,” I say.
And I’m not even talking about her pussy taking me to another plane of existence.
I’m talking about the night before, when we stood out on the heated patio and ate Pretzel M&M’s while drinking expensive champagne. I’m talking about when we spent hours in bed watching The Office, making bets on how long it’ll take Jim and Pam to get together.
I’ve been so in the mood to keep watching the show since I got back, but the thought of watching it while Olivia’s giving me the cold shoulder just feels like a thorn pricking my heart.
“But I know she’s been intentionally avoiding me ever since we got back,” I finish.
“She had a bad experience dating a hockey player in the past,” Hudson says. “A rich, cocky hockey player. Just like you.”
My eyebrows pinch. “I’m not like him at all.”
Hudson chuckles. “How do you know? You don’t even know him.”
I don’t need to. I know I’m nothing like that fucker. Because he hurt Olivia, and I never would.
Kazu stands up. “Finished?” he asks, looking at our empty bowls. We nod, and he clears our table. He suddenly seems to have a plan of action in mind, and when we leave the restaurant, he’s right at the door, turning the Open sign to Closed.
I push out a heavy sigh as we walk back home. I wish showing Olivia that I really, genuinely want to get to know her better and spend more time with her were as easy as buying a damn book.
I know one thing, though: I’m sure as hell not giving up. She’s got my heart wrapped around her finger, and I’ve got no interest in trying to untwirl it.
27
OLIVIA
This week felt fifty days long instead of five.
It’s Friday night, and I’ve never been more ready to take the edge of the week off with a couple drinks. I’m out with a group of my friends from the drama department at Loser’s Luck Tavern. It’s a classic college bar, informal, cozy, and always packed full and lively on a Friday night.
I’m talking with Ramya, a fellow drama major, about a play written by another student. We’re both reading through the script and thinking about whether we want to try out for any roles when it gets produced later this semester.
We’re discussing which roles we think each of us would be best for, when her gaze flits over my shoulder and her eyes go wide.
“Kevin’s here,” she says, her tone hushed.
I smirk. Ramya totally has a thing for Kevin, another drama major who’s especially talented at playing comedic roles.
With his thick auburn hair and handsome face, his only real drawback is the fact that for the past couple weeks, he’s been greeting everyone with an exaggerated Whazzup!?
I think he’s trying to make it, like, his thing. We’re all just waiting for him to realize it’s not going to catch on.
