Page 84

“Tastes like it, too.” She poured some into his palm.

Pink has a…? Oliver nibbled the popcorn cautiously, his tight expression loosening as the sugary, vaguely strawberry sweetness teased his tongue. “Oh! So that’s what pink tastes like.”

Georgie shook more into his hand. “It’s funny. When we first met, I didn’t picture you as someone with a raging sweet tooth, but now I see it: maple syrup, chocolate chips, BeaverTails!”

“Sweet over savoury, that’s me,” said Oliver. “I swear I’m part sugar glider.”

Georgie leaned in. “And just as adorable, too.”

Oliver took her sweet compliment with grain of salt. Surely she didn’t mean it in an ‘I-fancy-you-rotten’ kind of way. Nothing that evening had transpired to suggest otherwise, unfortunately.

He scoffed down the pink popcorn and his stomach let out a long, drawn-out growl. Apparently, a lovelorn Egyptologist couldn’t survive on breezy praise or sugary treats alone.

As Georgie tossed back another handful, Oliver eyed a fogged-up window of fresh-baked pizzas. “Care for something more substantial?” He gestured at the shop’s sign, The Big Slice. “My shout?”

Minutes later, Georgie was demolishing a pepperoni pizza slice while Oliver enjoyed a piece of Hawaiian topped with tart pineapple. She tugged a sliver of sausage free from her paper plate, bringing a rubbery string of mozzarella with it. “Yours okay, Ollie?”

“Delicious.” He took another bite as the shopping bags dangled from his forearm.

“The Big Slice has been here forev—” The rumble of a car driving past cut Georgie off, its inhabitants blasting “Starman” through the open windows. She patted her greasy smile with a serviette. “I dressed up as Ziggy Stardust for Halloween one year and lip-synced to that song.”

“Excellent choice,” said Oliver. “Bowie’s amazing.”

“I wore a spiky orange wig and painted a red and blue lightning bolt over my right eye. It took forever to do and looked great, but after dancing for hours, I resembled a melted waxwork.”

Oliver chuckled through another bite. “Who’d you dress up as this year?”

“At hockey?” Georgie licked tomato sauce off her thumb. “Oh, you know, just some badass named Catwoman.” Flashing a cheeky smile, she changed direction and darted west across Yonge at Gerrard Street as the light turned amber.

Oh my g—! A spike of adrenaline whisked Oliver’s pulse on an intoxicating joyride. She did that…for ME? His racing heart skidded, slamming into his ribs. Holy fuck, maybe Rafferty was right. Maybe a little happiness was better than none…but Oliver sure as hell wouldn’t find out standing on this side of the intersection.

Fuck it! Swallowing hard, he flung his half-eaten pizza slice in a garbage can and sprinted after her. “I meant it, you know,” he confessed, his eyes wild.

Georgie blinked back at him, puzzled. “I’m sorry?”

The truth itched like a sneeze he could no longer hold in. “Earlier, when I said I liked you. I…I meant it.”

Georgie slowed to a stop on the corner in front of the Beaux Arts façade of the Toronto Dominion Bank. Her throat bobbed.

“I know we were mid-argument at the time, but I didn’t say it to score points. I really like you, Georgie. And I know you just want to be friends and I’d hate to make things weird, but I can’t keep lying to you eith⁠—”

Dropping her pizza slice, Georgie lunged, shutting him up with a kiss. As her hands dove into his hair, he instinctively kissed her back, the soft persistence of her lips demanding he surrender their shopping and hold her.

As if Oliver needed any persuading…

He threw down the bags and tugged Georgie into him, her hips colliding with his as she slipped her tongue along his bottom lip and into his mouth. My god. He let out a groan and tilted his head, changing the angle to give her better access, revelling in her flirty determination before allowing himself to join the dance. Hands abandoning her waist, Oliver cupped her face, tasting the lingering spiciness on her tongue, feeling the subtle vibrations of her pleasure-filled moans as she grasped the back of his neck, locking him in. For a moment, Oliver wondered if he was imagining this, her hands exploring, the fervour of her mouth—devouring him in public! He’d fantasized about kissing Georgie before, rewinding and replaying the sensuous tussle over and over in his mind, but like most contemplations the real thing didn’t quite match what he’d concocted because holy fuck, this…this sparked goosebumps and shortened breaths, tingling lips and a hardening heat in his trousers, the pulsing ache and Georgie’s eager mouth derailing all…further…thought.

Something was shouted from a passing car, vehicles honked, but nothing could break the spell or tear Oliver away from the most incredible kiss of his life. Time became liquid and inconsequential as they indulged and coaxed and kissed until Georgie broke away, breathless.

“I only said the friends thing ’cause I thought that’s what you wanted,” she gasped, her ardent gaze searching his face.

“Not even close.” He grinned, taking in her puffy lips. “Invite me to hockey and find out.”

A blooming smile teased her flushed cheeks. “Uh, what are you doing Friday, January 8th?”

Oliver still couldn’t relate to Georgie’s love for the sport or her fondness for crowds, but if going to hockey made her happy, and meant more kissing, he was all in, even if he had to cancel the world to be there. “Cheering ‘Go Leafs Go’?”

Biting her lip, Georgie’s arms slipped down around his shoulders. “Oh god. You say all the right things, Dr. Jönsson!” She half-laughed and kissed him again, slow and deep, her tongue teasing, begging for more.