by Vivian Wood
And if she was anyone else, I think I would strip the blanket from my body now. But she’s not someone else.
My life would be a lot easier if I could just seem to remember that.
Gritting my teeth, I growl at her. “I said hold on. Fuck, Olivia. I could’ve been naked.”
Guilt flashes over her face. “Sorry! Sorry, I’ll wait outside.” She turns, but I stop her.
“What is it?” I ask, blowing out a breath.
She freezes. I take her in as she slowly turns around, admiring her perky little ass.
“I— I came for your driver’s license,” Olivia says a little breathlessly. She tucks her hair behind her ear. “Megan is at the house, and she said she forgot to ask to scan them last time she was here.”
I roll my eyes. “All right. Come on. I think my wallet is in my bedroom.”
I haul my tired ass back to the bedroom, expecting Olivia to follow. Dragging the blanket on the ground, I make it all the way into my room before I trip over the blanket. That pulls it from around my waist, giving her a brief glimpse of my ass.
“Oops,” I mumble, glancing back to Olivia.
She’s in the doorway, but she isn’t even looking at me. Instead, her eyes are glued on the bottle of lotion and wad of tissues on my bed. Some of the lotion has leaked out onto the bed and the tissues, and it looks bad.
I start trying to explain. “Oh… that’s—”
“I shouldn’t be here,” Olivia blurts out. Her gaze swings over to me, so embarrassed that it looks like she’s going to faint. “It’s your business, not mine! Maybe you can just bring your ID to Megan yourself?”
Then she turns and actually runs to the front door. The screen door bangs as she sprints out of my apartment. I’m left clutching at the blanket around my waist, unsure what I could’ve said to avoid that awkwardness.
14
Aiden
I can’t take Olivia to Whiskey Bend like this. Not when she won’t even look at me. So I scroll through the events section of the Seattle Times on my phone, determined to find something to ask her to go to.
A fair is in town. A Seahawks game is scheduled for tonight. Neither of those seem quite right though.
I want to pick something that will clearly be just for her. Something that will say I’m sorry without saying I still want to get in your pants. I scroll through pages of events before I land on one that sounds promising.
The Art of Folded Paper: A Multi-Media Appreciation of Origami
That sounds like straight up nerd talk, which is what I am going for. Plus, it’s in Port Angeles for the week, so I don't even have to drive that far. Sounds like a win-win to me. I go ahead and buy tickets, then I wait outside my apartment for Olivia to come back.
When she does, in a loose white dress with a heavy-looking black bag slung over her shoulder, I pounce.
“I need you to come with me,” I say, rising from my steps.
She narrows her eyes. “Where?”
Shit, I was just anticipating her agreeing to whatever I had in mind. I clear my throat. “To an art thing.”
She crosses her arms. “I don't think that’s a good idea, Aiden.”
Shit, have I already burned that bridge with her? I really hope not.
I try a winning smile. “Come on. I already got tickets. It’s about paper folding or some shit.”
Olivia doesn’t look impressed. “Surely you can find someone else to go with, Aiden. Don’t you have a little black book just bursting with names?”
She starts moving toward her apartment. I’m suddenly in a weird place, out of my depth and in swift moving water. For me to be the desperate one in this situation, the one that needs someone else’s cooperation, seems… backwards.
I walk over to her, grabbing her wrist. “Please, Olive?”
Her eyes have never been quite so blue as they are when she looks back at me, reining in her impatience. When she says my name, it sounds like a warning.
“Aiden…”
She turns toward me though. I grin because I know I’ve won.
“Go put your bag down,” I say, releasing her wrist. “I’ll wait.”
Those blue eyes narrow on my face and she shakes her head. But it doesn’t stop her from coming back outside with a sigh on her lips.
She’s silent most of the trip in my Jeep, turning the radio up and looking out her window. We leave behind the scenic coastline in favor of a few houses. Slowly the development builds, a gas station and a couple of local businesses first. Then we are suddenly in the heart of what you might call downtown Port Angeles. Both sides of the little two-lane highway are lined with buildings, people skittering here and there.
Once we pull up to the mansion-turned-art gallery, Olivia seems to perk up a little. I escort her up to the light blue turn of the century mansion, its steeples and roof lit from below to stand out starkly against the dusky early evening sky.
We climb the brick steps, waiting for a moment in a queue to be admitted. Once I wave my phone under the nose of the door attendant, we are admitted to a line of people, slowly filtering through the house. The second we step inside the front door, Olivia looks around with wide eyes. Delicate origami cranes of every different color hang suspended from the ceiling at random intervals.
“Ohh,” I hear her breathe out.
The ceilings are high above, tall enough that even I could not reach them without a ladder. The walls of the foyer are blank and light gray, the floors a dark polished wood. This leaves the paper birds as the only decoration.
The line of people breaks up a little here, with the hallway continuing straight to the back of the house and two open doorways on either side. I glance down at her.
“Your choice,” I say.
Olivia flashes me a tentative smile and then goes left. I head into the doorway that she chose, only to stop short. The room is small and dark, empty except for us. Staring back at me, made of delicate origami folds, is the word SECRETS, suspended in the air. It’s written in blood red and surrounded by sleek black folded paper, making up a unique and fragile texture.
She moves to the side, staring. She motions me to come to where she’s standing. I head over, quickly discovering that the word SECRETS disappears in favor of a phrase. Among the same black origami, WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST DESIRE is peppered. It takes me a minute to suss out what the meaning of the words is, but I eventually get the gist.
She grabs my hand, pulling me along. I move with her, seeing it shift once more. ARE THEY TWO SIDES OF ONE COIN. It takes me longer to put together the words in this one.
I lean down to Olivia. “What does it say?”
She turns to me. “Are they two sides of one coin.”
I have to think about that for a second, juggling the context of what I’ve already seen.
My eyebrows rise. “That is… unexpected,” I say. But in the back of my mind, I’m wondering if all the exhibits in this gallery are going to be word-centric.
Olivia seems to realize about when I do that she’s still holding my hand. She lets go with her cheeks turning pink.
“Sorry,” she says.
My mouth turns up at the corners. “Don’t be.”
She turns away, heading out of the room and across the hall. I follow her into a much larger room. A few other viewers stand and watch as a middle-aged woman folds a piece of paper into a complicated shape. Beside her are a bowl and half of a statue; a podium with a stack of the same papers as the woman is folding sits off to the side.
“It is important to be able to hold your aspirations close,” the woman murmurs. She turns to the statues she’s making, some kind of elaborate piece of art, and attaches the paper to it. Then she clears her throat. “For those of you who would like to, please use the paper and pens there. You can write anything down, any aspiration you have yet to attain. I will not look at the words… I will just fold them into the sculpture you see here. At the end of the night, this sculpture is burned. Then your words will reach the heavens, hopef
ully.”
After a second, she reaches into the bowl for another piece of paper and begins folding it. One of the women that is in front of me moves to the podium, scribbling on a piece of paper. She drops it into the bowl and then leaves the room.
To my surprise, Olivia goes next. She squares her shoulders and goes up to the podium, grabbing the pen. She thinks for a second, then writes on the thin sheet of paper. Dropping it in the bowl, she turns to me with a smile.
“Are you going to do it?”
I shake my head. “Maybe later.”
She shrugs a shoulder, heading out of the room. I follow her from room to room, spending more time watching her than looking at the actual art that I paid to see. At the back of the house, we’re ushered out into the back lawn, where all the trees in the backyard are hung with different shapes, all in white. It feels sort of like a magical place back here and there are couples and trios walking amongst the trees.
“That was riveting,” Olivia says, cocking her head. “Especially the last room. All those facts about a person, strung together to form a human shape?”
“Is that what that was?” I muse. “I was wondering.”
She slides me a look. I expect her to say something, but instead she sighs.
“What?” I ask.
“What are your aspirations?” she whispers. “Or some interesting facts about you as a person? I feel like I know you because you’re my brother’s best friend, but actually… I don't think I do.”
I take a minute as I guide her toward the first tree to think about that. “Mmm. I want to travel, I guess. I haven’t ever really been anywhere except for when I traveled with the Navy. Which is cool, but not relaxing. I want to take my time and see the sights. Is that enough of an aspiration for you?”
She flushes a little. “I guess.”
Her tone of voice says no, though. I sigh.
“Alright. Let’s see. I’ve got my sister, who is maybe a year younger than you. I’ve got my dad, who is a fucking asshole. I can’t read, which caused my dad no end of embarrassment when I was a kid. I signed up for the Navy just to get out of the house.” I stop, screwing up my face. “I don't know. I don't know what it is you want to hear.”
Her face draws down. “I don't know. Anything. Anything that actually means something to you. Stop… like, reciting facts. Tell me what is in here.”
She taps my chest, just over my heart. I catch her hand before she can withdraw it, holding it against my sternum. She looks at me, her eyes so damn blue that they take my breath away. She blushes but she doesn’t look away. She just bites her lower lip gently.
“I was surprised when you turned up at the Morgan estate,” I rumble. “Surprised and annoyed. But… I don't know. I am just… I’m glad that you’re here. I’m… enjoying getting to know you, for us to get to know one another, as adults.”
She couldn’t look more surprised if she tried. “You are?”
My face creases when I smile down at her. “Yeah. Duh. You’re worth knowing, Olive. This is part of our journey, I guess.”
She beams at me, making my heart falter.
“You shouldn’t do that,” I say.
A hint of puzzlement edges into her smile. “What?”
“That,” I say, shaking my head. “Smile at me like that. It’s not fair.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay.”
“I’m completely serious.” I grip her captured hand harder against my heart. “You should be giving that look to anyone but me. Give it to someone who can make you happy, Olive.”
She stares at me for a few seconds, then shakes her head and wrests her hand from my grip. “You have a funny definition of unfair.”
She whirls, stalking away. And I stare after her like a complete fool, wanting her all the more, knowing I can’t have her.
15
Olivia
It’s a Sunday, late in the afternoon. I’m in Aiden’s Jeep, with my head out the window, resting on my arm. I reached a stopping point in my work at almost the same time as Aiden came bounding up the staircase to the ballroom, asking me if I wanted to go visit Grayson with him.
Grayson is apparently taking a break from roughing it in the wild with Rachel, his ex. I haven’t actually laid eyes on her yet, but I’m sure things haven’t gotten less weird between them in the five years since they were last together. It’s probably angst city over there right now.
Unless they’ve started sleeping together again. That is a whole different ball of wax, I guess. At any rate, I wouldn’t wish their situation on anybody. I wouldn’t trade places with Rachel or Grayson, that’s for sure.
So I said that I would come, despite the fact that Aiden hasn’t said a word to me since the other night. I shift in my seat, sneaking a glance at him. He’s driving, staring at the road ahead with a slight scowl on his face.
And yet, even with the blatantly unfriendly expression, he still looks ridiculously handsome. Dark hair, dark eyebrows, dark eyes. And all of that put on top of a big guy?
Come on. He was created to seduce.
It just so happens that he doesn’t think I’m worth seducing.
That thought echoes through my head, making me look away from him. I’m half pouting now but there is nothing I can do but just… wait until we reach our destination, I guess.
We still have to drive to Whiskey Bend, which is the spot deep in the woods where the National Park Service has their base camp for the Olympic Park area in western Washington.
In his car on the way over, things are tense and awkward.
“How far is it to Whiskey Bend?” I ask.
He looks at me and sighs. “About twenty five more minutes.”
Then Aiden turns up some late 90s alternative rock on the car’s stereo to dissipate the atmosphere a little. So now I’m listening to some guy sing mournfully about bittersweet symphonies while strings play behind him. I close my eyes, feeling the rush of air as it rushes against my face.
Otherwise I would actually have to interact with Aiden. And after the last time we talked, I don’t have the willpower. I just feel like I’m going to crumble into dust and blow away every time I think about arguing with him again.
For his part, Aiden is brooding and silent, both hands on the steering wheel. He stares at the road ahead like it did something to personally offend him. I’m not even sure why he invited me to come to Whiskey Bend. Actually, he probably wouldn’t have if it wouldn’t have made Grayson ask a lot of questions.
Sitting here in the car, the silence between us weighing heavily on me, I feel like I’m invisible again. He’s ignoring me like nothing ever happened between us. Like we never kissed, at least. It is almost the most miserable feeling I’ve ever had in my whole life.
Not quite, but close.
We drive deeper and deeper into the woods, on smaller and smaller roads, until we come around a sharp turn. Then we pull into a gravel parking area.
There is the camp, laid out before us. It’s basically a collection of rustic-looking cabins, the largest of them the mess hall. Behind that, there are some facilities cabins, and then a spread of tiny staff cabins sprinkled here and there toward the back. In the distance, almost hidden amongst the trees, is a ropes course.
Aiden is already out of the Jeep, slamming the door and walking away. I move a little slower, getting out and stretching. I see Aiden heading for the mess hall, probably straight to my brother.
Wandering in that direction, I think about Rachel. A park ranger crosses my path, dressed in a pair of cargo shorts and a loose gray tank top. Her arms are full of firewood; I don’t think she sees me.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I say shyly.
She looks up, surprised. “Hey! Are you from the tour group? Did you get lost?”
“No. I’m Grayson’s sister, Olivia.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh! Now that you say it, I sort of see the resemblance. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Jade.”
I give her my most awkward smile. “Same. Listen,
do you know where Rachel Black is? She’s the girl my brother has been squiring around? Short, slim, sort of blonde?”
“Oh! Yeah, I saw her heading toward her cabin. Cabin fourteen, maybe? It’s back that way.”
“Thanks. See you around.”
Jade flashes me a half-smile and then continues on her way.
After hunting for the right number for a few minutes, I knock on the door of cabin fourteen.
“Yes?” a young woman’s voice answers.
“Rachel?” I ask.
There is a pause. A moment later, Rachel pulls the door open. She looks exactly like I remember, a few inches shorter than me, her long mane of amber hair swept up in a ponytail. Her features are still as delicate as before, her long lashes and perfectly flushed cheeks seeming like they were crafted by a doll maker.
“Olivia!” she says, a look of total surprise on her face.
I smile a little, feeling as awkward as ever. “I heard you were here so…”
Rachel’s brow pulls down in a delicate wrinkle. She gives me a hard look. Crossing her arms, she cocks her hip. “Yes. I found your brother by accident, it seems.”
I bite my bottom lip, concerned. “I’m sorry, Rachel. Really I am. I thought that Grayson was dead just like you did for almost a year, though. And he made me swear not to tell you once Aidan contacted me to tell me my brother was alive.”
She narrows her eyes and blows out a breath.
“Do you want to take a walk?” she asks. “It’s so nice out today. There are some picnic tables over by the mess hall that have been calling my name.”
I feel relief. It’s not that I’m stupid enough to think that I am forgiven, but I’m glad that Rachel seems neutral about the whole thing.
I perk up. “Sure. That would be great.”
She slips on a pair of shoes. We’re mostly quiet on the way to the picnic tables. I glance up at the canopy above with something like wonder, feeling in awe of the canopy as I always am.
Rachel smiles a little. “The trees that form the ceiling must be old. I mean, to have a roots system that allows them to be so far away.”