Page 81 of The Stalker Snafu

I frowned, and Henrietta froze against the page. “Julian isn’t annoying.”

Oliver fought a smile, but it reached his eyes anyway. “Say that again after living with him for a while, and I’ll buy you a whole cake from Providence.”

My nose scrunched at the teasing, and I scowled. “Don’t joke about that. It’s traumatizing.”

“It’s hilarious.” Oliver chuckled and tugged open a bag of chips.

“It’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life.” I shook my head when he offered the bag. Normally I’d be all over nabbing a few chips, but my appetite was nonexistent. Even junk food wouldn’t make me feel better right now. “What are you still doing here?”

Had Julian sent Oliver to babysit me?

He smirked. “Should I leave?”

“No, I’m just… curious, I guess. The other three left right away, so I figured you might be busy, too. Life of a piano god and all.”

Oliver ate a chip before brushing off his fingers and fighting back another smile. “You make it sound more exciting than it is, but not today. I was shopping for a new metronome when Julian texted, so I can hang out for a while.”

My toes tingled at his suggestion, and I curled them against the couch cushion. During all my years crushing on Oliver Bishop, I never imagined us just hanging out together. I’d always assumed he didn’t have the time for things like that.

“You do your own metronome shopping?” I cocked my head. “I figured you’d have a guy for that.”

He laughed. “A metronome shopper? Nah. Need to test them myself.”

My lips twitched. “So particular. No wonder you’re an international sensation.”

I’d meant it as friendly teasing, but Oliver dropped his gaze to the couch and cleared his throat.

My jaw threatened to drop. He’d grown up with fame. No way could he be self-conscious about it.

“Do you have plans tonight?” he asked, facing me on the couch and stretching his arm along the backrest. I shifted my weight; his hand was so close to my shoulder.

“Well, Noah and I were going to get cheeseburgers and watch crime shows today, but that was before his fake trip to New York.” I might’ve said that more bitterly than was called for while twirling Henrietta around my fingers. “So, I’m trying not to procrastinate for once in my life and actually get some homework finished. When that inevitably fails, I’ll probably watch TV or play games on my phone.”

“Is that your pen?” Oliver asked sharply, setting the bag of chips aside and ignoring everything I’d said as he eyed Henrietta. “It looks like an Aurora.”

The pen froze midtwirl. Was it possible my boyfriend wasn’t the only pen connoisseur in the state of California?

“It is. Noah got it for my birthday.” I blinked rapidly at the reminder of that morning. I tried to tell myself it hadn’t been a lie, but it was hard when everything else about Noah seemed to be.

“It’s a very nice pen.” Oliver leaned closer to admire it. “Practically the highest quality you can get.”

“Yeah,” I said softly, turning the pen until the engraving faced me. I brushed my fingers over it, feeling like I was caressing a piece of Noah as well. “He has good taste.”

“He engraved it?”

“He did.” My smile grew, and I held her up so he could read it. Oliver’s head hovered closer to mine as he checked the words Noah had chosen.

All my love, Noah.

Oliver whistled appreciatively, straightening back up. “You must’ve made quite an impression on him. Kincaid isn’t usually so affectionate.”

“I know,” I said, followed by a dry chuckle. “I know exactly what he’s usually like. And believe me, this didn’t happen overnight. Blood, sweat, and tears went into cracking his stubborn shell open. But I have to say, he has a beautiful, mushy center.”

Oliver fell quiet, and my gaze strayed back to my homework, but it was impossible to refocus on my textbook with a piano god in the room. My gaze kept flitting up to his silky hair. What conditioner did he use to get it that shiny?

He broke the silence after another beat. “You said you’re planning to watch TV and play phone games later?”

I glanced down at the same textbook page that hadn’t changed in hours. “I guess. I’m having trouble distracting myself from the whole my-boyfriend-is-talking-to-the-cartel-and-showing-up-on-the-FBI’s-Most-Wanted-List thing right now, but maybe a phone game or good serial killer origin story will do the trick.”