by Anna Rezes
One of the older ladies pulled me over to do some kind of cha-cha dance with her, and Willa was pulled away by someone else. Suddenly, all the women were passing me around, and I lost track of Willa.
“Relax, sweetie, she won’t disappear,” Hilda said. At least I think her name was Hilda. She looked to be in her late sixties, but she was getting down like she was twenty.
Hilda said, “You ought to marry that girl. I’ve never seen a happier couple. You’re both a little strange, but it’s obvious you’re crazy about each other.”
I pulled her away from the crowd, probably taking her words too seriously. “We’ve only known each other for three days, and we both just got out of serious long-term relationships. We live in different states and w—”
“I don’t know your situation,” she interrupted, “but all I hear are excuses. Life goes by too quickly, dear. My husband died last year, and if we wouldn’t have been so stubborn at the beginning of our relationship, then we would’ve had another year together.”
I stared at her. I couldn’t be taking her seriously. But I was. “What if I hurt her? She’s already been through enough.”
“Then don’t hurt her,” she said, making it sound easy. “Love her.”
I shook my head “This is crazy.”
“Life goes too quickly, Oliver, and the craziest things people have done were for love,” she said, pinching my cheek. “Now, I’ve gotta go give my seventy-year-old knees a break.”
While she headed back to her table, I turned to search for Willa. When I didn’t see her anywhere, I went toward the person I saw her dancing with last, but before I got there, I heard, “Hey, my big sexy cocksucker!”
I spun, and Willa was running toward me with her shoes in her hand.
I laughed, “That wasn’t subtle.”
She was laughing and breathless by the time she got to me.
“Easy my sparkly feather.”
She caught her breath and said, “I requested a song.”
Just then, the lead vocalist of the band announced, “I love this crowd. We got an unusual request, and folks we aim to please. So, without further ado, I give you Cole.” He waved a hand at the guitarist who had taken the lead position.
I was holding my breath, and my heart was pounding. Then the lead singer came back and said, “Guys, he’s just going to wing it.”
The guitarist shook his head, and the song started. I looked down at Willa. She was already watching me, waiting for my reaction.
“The fucking Chicken Dance? What is wrong with you?”
She tossed her shoes and offered her hand. “May I have this dance?”
I took her hand and stepped forward, saying, “Always.” We danced our asses off.
When the song ended, Willa said, “Life would be a lot more fun if we weren’t always so afraid of embarrassing ourselves.”
She made a good point, and I was about to tell her so when she said, “I need water!”
We pick up her shoes on the way back to our table, both parched from dancing outdoors on a summer day.
We sat next to each other at our table as we rehydrated. I stared at Willa as we drank. Even with the sheen of sweat, she looked stunning and impossibly fresh like her sheen was from the morning dew rather than sweating her ass off. Her fitted gold dress showed every curve of her body, and she tossed her dark waves, looking sexy. I wanted to slide my hands into that hair, over those curves. I wanted to taste her. I wanted to hear my name on her breath as I was buried inside of her.
“I feel like you’re undressing me with your eyes,” she said, setting her glass down.
I set my glass down and nodded because that’s exactly what I was doing. I still had the image of her from this morning burned into my memory.
“You have to be hot,” I said, “We should probably get that dress off you.”
She smirked. “It sounds like you’re the one that needs some cooling off.”
She was absolutely right.
“Hey, you lovebirds,” Hilda interrupted, coming to stand by our table. “Let me take a photo of the two of you. I wish Richard, and I would’ve taken more pictures together over the years.”
Willa pulled her phone out of her dress. I’d offered to carry it for her, but she said she didn’t mind.
Willa wiped the sweat from her phone onto my romper and got the camera ready, handing it to Hilda. We posed for a few photos and then Hilda said, “Up, up. We have to get one with your lovely ensembles.”
We stood, and Willa slipped back into her shoes and then we posed for one.
“Okay now one with you holding her, Oliver.”
“What?” Willa complained.
I swooped her up, and Hilda took the pictures as Willa fought me.
“My ass is probably hanging out,” she complained.
“No dear, there are too many feathers for that,” Hilda reassured.
I liked Hilda. She reminded me of my grandmother even though she was closer to my mom’s age. My grandmother always butted into my business, and it drove me crazy, but when she was gone, I missed her meddling. My mom never interfered with my life or tried to tell me what to do. Once I became a teenager, she basically stepped back and let me do my own thing. It’s a wonder I turned out as well as I did. I probably would have been wild if it hadn’t been for Addison.
I pulled myself back to the present and set Willa on her feet. She pushed away from me and said. “I’m going to run to the ladies’ room. Will you keep my phone in your pocket?”
“Of course,” I said.
After she walked away, Hilda asked, “Would you rather I hold on to it so I can take some candid photos? Candids are always the best.”
“That’d be great.”
Willa
The woman who had just taken our picture came into the bathroom as I was washing my hands.
“Oliver seems especially taken with you,” she said, acting like she had known Oliver for years. “In my opinion, you should take that boy home and marry him,” she continued, coming at the topic with the grace of a piranha attacking my feet. I hadn’t even realized I was dangling my feet in the water, just like I didn’t realize this topic was up for discussion.
The shock must have been written on my face, because she said, “Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Hilda, and Oliver couldn’t shut up about you. You two seem so crazy about one another. It makes me miss my husband. I hope you two are as happy together as Richard and I were.”
“I’m sorry about your husband, but Oliver and I are not a couple. We only met a few days ago.”
“I think that says a lot. It might be new, but you can’t deny your connection runs deep.”
Who was this woman? Rather than asking her to please, fuck off, I said, “I wasn’t looking for Oliver, but we found each other, and we connected, but that’s it.”
“But that doesn’t have to be it,” Hilda said. “Oliver isn’t the one who made you cynical of love, dear. Try not to punish him for it.” She walked into a stall before she got a chance to see my anger.
What the hell! I looked in the mirror to straighten my hair, but thought, fuck it, and walked out of the bathroom. What had Oliver told this woman? I was going to find out.
The sun had crossed the sky since we first arrived and the breeze was blowing clouds in which cooled the summer air, but I didn’t like the look of the dark clouds on the horizon. I wondered if they were coming our way.
I looked around for Oliver. He wasn’t at our table or the bar, but I continued to search. Hilda had shaken me up. I didn’t know if it’s just because she made so many assumptions or because she made me question what Oliver was saying about me.
I finally spotted him over by the band. He was talking to the only female band member, and suspicions crept in. He was leaning so close to her, practically whispering sweet nothings into her ear. I choked, and my anger amplified. Men were cheaters. It was a fact I already knew. But I couldn’t give Oliver that label because technically we weren’t a couple. We hadn’t needed to
put a label on what was happening between us, and I hadn’t wanted to, but seeing him whispering into her ear made me irrational. I felt deceived and possessive. I was livid—my day ruined. What would I do if he picked up another girl today?
Oliver turned toward me. We stood maybe thirty feet apart, and he beamed at me. I felt his smile all over, and my anxiety fell away. He walked away from the woman without a backward glance, squashing my reservations, and squelching my frustration at Hilda’s meddling. He didn’t look guilty because he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was probably talking into her ear because it was so loud.
This whole day had been filled with a joy that overshadowed my sorrow, but my insecurities almost ruined it.
His hands were behind his back as he walked toward me. His smirk was so big it made me smile.
“What did you do?” I asked him with a sense of dread.
Before he could answer the band announced, “We got another unusual request, and Andrea is going to help us out with this one.” The girl Oliver had been talking to came on stage with her phone in hand, and the guitarist was looking at something on his phone while he practiced cord positions.
Andrea stepped up to the mic and said, “So we’re going to slow things down a bit with this next song. Bear with us, you guys are really challenging us today, but I think we can make this happen.”
The guitarist began, but she waved her arm for him to stop. “I almost forgot. This song is dedicated to the Pink fucking Moscato.”
I smiled, and Oliver cheered next to me.
I had no idea what slow song Oliver would have picked out for us, but I quickly found out, and it wasn’t slow at all. Or it wasn’t supposed to be. I’d never heard a slowed down, acoustic version of Wannabe by The Spice Girls.
Oliver stepped in front of me. “May I have this dance?”
I looked up at him in awe and had to admit the band was rocking it. The woman’s voice was smoky and soulful, giving the song a whole new feel. I laced my fingers through his, and we stepped out into the grassy area that had become our dance floor. We wrapped our arms around one another and slow danced to Wannabe for the second time in three days.
This time was sexually charged just like the first time. Only it was so much more because it wasn’t just lust. My feelings grew every second that I was with him. “You truly are the highlight of my night,” I said, poking fun at his shoes while also being completely honest.
His hand cupped my cheek, and he leaned forward. “Willa,” he whispered, holding back.
I said, “Honest truth, Oliver. What’s going through your head right now?”
His eyes searched mine. “I’m a sensible person, Willa, but when we’re together, I forget to hold back. I know I wasn’t supposed to fall for you, but logic never stood a chance.”
I felt the same which is why I started to pull away. In my head, I knew he wasn’t Evan. My heart ached for him, but fear was stronger than even my vital organs. It loomed over me, tainting every good thing in my life. I knew how to evade fear for a time, but I didn’t know how to escape it entirely.
He pulled me back in, his hands gripping my arms, and we stood there staring at each other as people danced around us. “Tell me your honest truth, Willa.”
“I’m too afraid,” I said.
“Too afraid to tell me, or too afraid of your feelings?”
“Both.”
“Face your fear, Willa. You said life was more fun when you weren’t afraid to embarrass yourself. Imagine how great it could be if you weren’t afraid of getting hurt.”
“It’s not that easy,” I whispered, ashamed of my weakness.
He pulled me against him, whispering into my hair, “You are the bravest woman I’ve ever met. You’ve been through enough shit, and you’ve fought too hard to let fear win.”
He was right. I was stronger than my fear. To let it cripple me would allow it to win and I had fought too hard to get to where I was. If I didn’t move forward, then I’d be moving backward, and I would not cower.
I lifted onto my toes as I tilted my chin up. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. He kissed me back. Our kiss was public, and I was terrified, but his lips and tongue and roaming hands distracted me from my discomfort.
When he pulled away, he asked, “What do you want?”
“You,” I answered.
He gave a shy laugh and said, “Well, that’s good, but I meant are you ready to go back to the hotel. Do you want to get some more wine? What do you want to do?”
“I think we have enough wine back at the hotel. I want to get a bag of candy from the gift shop, though.”
“You head to the gift shop. I’ll pay the bill.”
“Half of that is mine.”
“Okay, then buy me a t-shirt, and we’ll call it even.”
I smiled, knowing that I would need to buy him more than just a t-shirt to make us even.
“What’s that look?” he asked.
I spun to walk inside, ignoring his question and saying, “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
The bench in the lobby gave us a great view of the storm rolling in. The sunny day had cooled drastically, and the clouds and the gusts of wind were building. The band had taken a break and the patio had cleared. It was only four o’clock, but the sky continued to darken, looking more like dusk than a summer afternoon. No one had expected the weather to change. When I checked the forecast earlier, it showed clear skies all day.
I was scrolling through the new photos on my phone while Oliver pulled goodies out of the gift shop bag I had handed him. “This is more than a t-shirt,” he said, pulling out the matching shorts and slippers I bought for him. I also purchased two wine glasses, a unicorn corkscrew, and a bag of chocolates.
I held up my phone screen to him. “Who took these pictures?” I said, confused and stunned by the number of photos. They were all of us, dancing together, laughing together, whispering together. But the one I held up to him was of us standing by our table. My head was thrown back mid-laughter while Oliver peered down at me with a smile and a look filled with serine fascination. My heart and body warmed in response to his intimate stare.
Oliver took the phone from me and smiled at the photo without a hint of embarrassment. “Hilda took them,” he confessed. “I thought you’d appreciate the memories, and I had to make sure we captured every angle of you in that dress.”
He handed the phone back, and I wanted to say more as I looked back at the photo. I needed to confront these feelings, but Oliver went back to his bag, pulling out the unicorn corkscrew as thunder rumbled in the distance.
“You bought me my very own corkscrew!” he laughed.
“There is also a bottle of bourbon in there, so you aren’t stuck with only the Moscato.”
He put everything back in the bag and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me closer and kissing the top of my head. “I love it.”
The downpour began. Large drops of water pounded against the roof, and cool air blew in through the patio doors as moisture filled the air. Someone opened the front door, looking as if they wanted to make a run for their car but paused when they saw the heavy rain pelting the ground. The patter of rain grew louder and rolling thunder shook the ground. I leaned into Oliver, enjoying his body heat, his scent, and his calm presence.
As the gusts of wind became stronger, they closed the patio doors, cutting us off from the storm. The man at the door made a run for his car just as Collin pulled up outside.
He pulled up under the awning and Oliver and I grabbed our things and made a mad dash for the car. I slid into the back seat and Oliver was right behind me, both of us damp from the angled rain.
“Crazy storm,” Collin said.
I replied, “It wasn’t even supposed to rain today.”
Collin pulled out from under the awning and rain assaulted the vehicle, drowning out our voices, making it difficult to carry on a conversation without shouting.
We pulled out onto the road, windshield wipers se
t to warp speed and I grabbed Oliver’s hand, wishing we could just wait out the storm, but I was the only one that seemed worried. Oliver scrunched his eyebrows at me, wondering what was wrong and gave me a reassuring grin, squeezing my hand.
“How’re you doing, Collin?” Oliver shouted over the storm.
Lightning cracked, sounding like an explosion and I jumped. I felt Oliver tense next to me. The road had Collin’s undivided attention. We were on a two-lane highway, and I could barely make out the blurry lines.
“Should we pull over?” I asked.
“There is nowhere to pull off and the shoulder isn’t big enough,” replied Collin.
Then the sirens began. At first, they were difficult to hear over the downpour, but the sound increased as did my level of anxiety. I pulled my phone from Oliver’s pocket to check what was going on. Collin turned on the radio.
The wind howled, and the car rocked as thunder rumbled. I felt the vibration in my chest, the same vibration I felt with fireworks, but instead of a pretty show, this was accompanied by sheer panic.
I tried to focus on my phone and finally found it. “Tornado watch,” I called out. “And severe thunderstorms.”
The car shook, and Collin said, “I’m gonna pull off into the grass.”
He pulled off the road while I pulled up my weather radar app to see which way the storm was headed and to get an idea of how long it would take to pass. The storm clusters were scattered, but it looked like we might not have to wait very long which was a relief because a semi flew past us, shaking the car as a wave of water covered us.
I didn’t feel very safe on the side of the road. Oliver pulled me closer to him, wrapping his arms around me and kissing my cheek. “We’re going to be okay,” he said.
I looked up at him, saddened by the idea of losing him. If we died right then, I would regret not getting to spend more time with him. I wanted to see where things would go, and I felt like together, we would be really great.
We might have met while we were both in crisis, but we were recovering faster because we had each other. I’d never been so raw around anyone. He had seen me scream at God, and cry while reliving my most traumatic moments. I didn’t see my life taking this turn, but I was starting over, and I wanted to do it with Oliver.