I’d told her that. Plus, she’d caught me gawking at her more than once. My fascination with her was obvious.
Her eyelashes fluttered. “Why do you like watching me?”
It was my turn to blush. “Eh, no reason.”
“No reason?” She pouted adorably. “Come on, there must be a reason.” Her lips turned up as her eyes sparkled. “How about I go first?”
My muscles seized. “Y-you watch me?”
Shit, what had she seen? How bad had I been?
She bit her bottom lip, nodding. “All the time. I can’t stop looking at you.”
Fear crawled down my spine. “If you’ve watched me, why are you still here? Why haven’t you run away screaming yet?”
Her face fell. “You act as if I won’t want to be your friend the more I get to know you.”
“You won’t.”
She sighed softly. “You’re wrong, you know. That can’t ever happen.”
I looked at my plate, unable to hold her stare. I daren’t indulge in the quick kick of hope in my heart. Could she feel a tenth of what I did? Could I keep her, regardless of who I was?
More batter sizzled in the pan as Olin murmured, “You can’t scare me away, you know. I see more than you think. I like watching you, Gilbert Clark, because everything you do is assessed, deliberated, and completed with utmost dedication. You don’t waste energy on things that aren’t important. You’re precise and concentrate harder than anyone I know. And if I’m honest, you’re kind of scary with how focused you are when you put your mind to it.”
“I scare you?” My heart no longer nursed hope but hurt.
“Not anymore. Not now I know you.” She looked at me pointedly. “The more I get to know you, the more I like you, so you might as well get used to having me around.”
“I love having you around.” I froze.
Shit.
She smiled. “I’m glad.”
Our eyes locked again, and goosebumps shot beneath my clothes. I wanted to go to her. To ask if she liked me enough to kiss me. But I lived with whores. Kisses weren’t given willingly most of the time. And I would never, ever take something from Olin that she didn’t want me to have.
Olin looked away first, her voice wobbling a little. “Anyway, tuck in.” She flipped the pancake, expertly landing it in the centre of the pan. A skill that said she’d cooked far more than other kids, from necessity not because of hobbies. “Eat while it’s hot.”
“I’ll wait for you.”
“Don’t.” Her gaze met mine again, this time not with naked vulnerability but concern and far too much knowing. She knew what food meant to me. She knew more about me than I’d told her because that was who she was, empathetic and intelligent, putting pieces together to make a whole.
I shifted uncomfortably on the stool, wishing I was better for her.
“Please, Gil...eat. I know...I know you don’t get many meals.”
The sugary smell suddenly made me feel sick. “I’m not hungry.” I didn’t know why pride raised its ugly head. Why it made me so short-tempered.
It made me all too aware of how little I had to offer her. Maybe her friendship was charity, after all? She’d do that. She’d be nice enough to hang out with me if she thought I was lonely.
Bullshit. She likes you, Clark. You just have to man up and accept that, instead of looking for ways to sabotage it.
Flipping the pancake one last time, she turned the element off, then selected a plate for herself. Her motions were smooth and dancing-sensual, but her face shadowed with worry.
Bringing her own snack to sit beside me at the breakfast bar, she cut into the fluffy circle and placed a small bit on her tongue.
She chewed for a moment before turning to face me.
I wanted to run. I wanted to tell her she didn’t know me when she obviously did. I needed the pity in her eyes to go away.
Icing sugar dusted her bottom lip as she hesitantly reached across and placed her hand on my thigh.
I stiffened.
My blood heated.
My body hardened.
I squeezed my eyes and fought back a tattered groan.
She didn’t speak for the longest moment. A moment where I struggled not to grab her. A moment where I lived in a fantasy of carrying her upstairs, finding the closest bed, and learning how sweet her tongue was after eating delicious pancakes.
“I know you might hate me for saying this...but I know, Gil.”
I kept my eyes closed, unable to meet her stare.
Her fingers dug deeper into my thigh. “I know you’re beaten at home. I know you don’t eat much. I know you don’t like leaving school. I know—”
My hand landed over hers, squeezing the delicate bones of her fingers. “Stop.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t because if I do, I don’t know if you’ll come back. And I really, really want you to come back.” She didn’t complain as my hand crushed hers. She just continued in her melodic, perfect voice. “You said the first day we talked in the corridor that telling a secret makes us friends. I told you mine, and you’ve become so important to me these past few months. Do you....perhaps...want to share another one with me?”
I struggled to open my eyes and look at her. My heart flew like a wounded bird, crashing against my ribs, breaking a wing, desperate for help but terrified of it at the same time.
I diverted her attention away from my secrets. “Why...why am I important to you?”
She smiled shyly. “Many reasons.”
“Because I walk you home from school?”
“One of them.”
“What are the others?”
With her voice soft, she answered, “You’re important because you look after me even when you don’t think you are. You carry my bag, you sharpen my pencil, you give me cookies from the canteen, you make up silly nicknames for me.”
I scowled. “The nicknames are a stupid idea.”
“Don’t you dare stop, they’re the best!” Her eyes glittered. “You make my days better just knowing you’re waiting for me to start class together.”
I forced myself not to react, even though she’d just given me every gift I ever wanted. “That’s why you like me? Because you don’t feel so alone? Any boy could do that.”
She slipped off her barstool and pressed herself against me. “Any boy isn’t you.” Her head fell on my shoulder. “I have friends. I have company. But...none of them fills up the holes inside me like you do. It’s like...I only need you. And that’s terrifying because I know you hide so much, and I don’t know if you’ll decide that one day—”
“Stop.”
“But you’d tell me, right? If I pried too much or annoyed you enough to push you—”
“Olin.” My voice was fierce. “Enough.”
“I like you, Gilbert, not because of what you do for me, but because of the secrets you refuse to share. You think they’ll change how I care about you.” She pressed a fleeting kiss on my cheek. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”
I clenched every muscle I possessed so I didn’t clutch her close and kiss her back. Kiss her mouth this time. Kiss her until I couldn’t stop.
With my eyes closed, I asked quietly. “You like me?”
“So much.”
“How do you like me?” I opened my eyes, forcing a smile and repeating what she said to me that first day we talked. “Do you like me like me or just—”
“I like you like you.” Her gaze fell to my lips. “I want to like you forever.”
I froze, even as my heart went wild. “Forever is a long time.”
“It’s not long enough.”
I fell deeper into her gaze, feeling the tug to spill everything. Drowning beneath the need to have her know me. Truly, truly know me. To accept me. To no longer fear she’d leave me when she found out everything. To take away her fear that I would ever leave her in return.
Because that would never happen.
Ever.
I would slit my
own wrists if I ever thought of abandoning her.
Then you’d leave her in death, you moron.
Okay, I would just have to find a way to be immortal, so Olin would forever be mine.
My hand shook as I reached out and cupped her cheek. She gasped as I ran my thumb over her cheekbone. “Friends isn’t enough anymore.”
Her tongue licked at the icing sugar on her bottom lip. “What does that mean?”
Twisting on the stool, I dropped my hands to her hips and positioned her between my legs. The softness of her blue pinstripe dress that was the school’s summer uniform warmed beneath my touch. I checked my self-control was in full affect, hoping she didn’t look down because I couldn’t hide my reaction to her. Couldn’t pretend I escorted her home because I was a gentleman who kept her safe.
I was the boy who wanted to tear off her clothes and have her beg my name.
I was my father’s son and my father liked his women subservient, submissive, with only money forming a foundation between them.
I was afraid that that was me. That I would fight to deserve Olin only to do something unforgivable.
That was a secret I would never be able to tell her, but it helped make my other one not so dangerous. So what I came from a bad beginning? It didn’t define me. I had no intention of making Olin live such a life.
“It means that I want you to know who I am, so you can decide if you want me.” I sucked in a thin breath. “I live in a whore house. My father is an alcoholic and a pimp. I don’t know which of his whores is my mother. She’s probably dead from overdosing. My room is next to a whore’s whose clients make it impossible to sleep. There’s never any food in the house. My father hates me and loves to prove it.”
There was only one other person who might’ve guessed what I survived at night and that was Ms Tallup. And that was only because I’d bled over my homework more than once and she’d sent me to the principal with the threat of Child Protective Services taking me away.
It was probably why I hated and feared her.
As long as I played nice and hid my frequent injuries, I was permitted to stay in her class. If I didn’t, I would be removed from school, from hope...from Olin.
Before Olin could speak, I rushed, “I’m not telling you this to make you pity me. I’m telling you this because you guessed, and I don’t want to discuss it again. It is what it is, but it won’t be for too much longer. I’m gonna graduate, get a good job, and have my own place soon. We’ll be together on our own terms and none of that shit will matter.”
My tone softened as she stared at me. “And then...when I have my own place, I’ll have you round every day. And every night. In fact, we might as well live together because I’ll never want you to leave.”
She sucked in a breath. “Live together?”
I smirked. “Might as well. Isn’t that what families do?”
“You want to be my family?” She gasped adorably.
“Family have each other’s backs. They’re there for each other no matter what.” I brushed aside her hair, caressing her ear. “I want to be there for you, and you’re already there for me. That makes us family. More so than the ones we have right now.”
“I-I...guess.” She blushed as I ran my thumb along her jaw.
“It’s settled then.” I dropped my hand and captured her hip again, holding her tight between my legs. “After school, we’ll be together.”
“And during school?” Her voice was achingly timid. “What about now?”
Pulling her forward and caging her with my body, I murmured, “We are together.”
“Are we?” She blushed again, a tease glowing in her gaze. “I mean...you’ve never tried to kiss me.”
I narrowed my eyes, allowing flirtation to fade in favour of seriousness. “A kiss isn’t something I can take back. Once I kiss you, you’re mine.”
She shuddered. “Well, you might as well get it over with because—”
“Not yet.” I rose and kissed her forehead, inhaling her scent of orchids and talc. “Soon.”
“You don’t have to wait. I don’t care about your background. Nothing about you could turn me off, Gil.”
I sighed as my ribcage tightened. “I’m sure there are some things.”
Her eyes searched mine nervously. “Don’t ever doubt us, okay?”
Her concern was one of the things I loved about her. She literally held my heart in her dainty dancer hands. She had more power over me than Ms Tallup or my father. I would do anything for her and it was getting harder and harder not to tell her.
But until I felt worthy of telling her that I belonged to her, I would wait.
Because the promise of us was far too precious to rush.
“I’ll never doubt us, little orangutan.” I tickled her, deliberately erasing the intense connection and welcoming light-hearted ease.
“Ugh.” Her nose wrinkled, a laugh tumbling from her lips. “I think I prefer octopus over being called a monkey.”
I pushed her away, closing my legs and facing the first meal anyone had ever made for me. The pancakes were more than just pancakes. Eating them was basically marriage in my eyes. I was saying I do to a question she hadn’t even asked.
My hands shook as I grabbed the knife and fork. “That’s just made me determined to find more monkeys that start with O.”
“You wouldn’t.” She sat back down on her barstool; her cheeks happily flushed.
Slicing into a pancake, I didn’t reply until I’d placed the delicious, home-cooked meal onto my tongue and savoured it.
Sweet like O.
Soft like O.
Perfect like O.
Taking another bite, I mumbled, “And you said you knew me.”
I’d meant it as a joke, but for some reason, Olin froze. She didn’t say anything for the longest time, giving me far too much space to worry in. “You’re right. I do know you. I like you, Gil. I like you regardless of the people we were born to. You’re stuck with me now. The annoying meddling new family.”
I longed to press a kiss directly on the lips she bit in nervousness. I wanted to give her the same pleasure she’d just given me by being so damn sweet. But I couldn’t move because if I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop.
My voice lowered. “That’s probably the worst thing you could ever say to me.”
Her gorgeous hazel eyes pinned me in place. “Why is that a bad thing to know I have your back? To know I like you...no matter what?”
Taking a risk, I swapped my knife for a handful of her silky hair. Tugging her toward me, I whispered, “It’s almost a challenge to see what else I can make you put up with.”
“Go ahead. I’ll still be here.”
Struggling to pull away, I swallowed hard. “You know...I actually believe you.”
“Good, because it’s true.”
“That might be.” I let her go, busying myself with cutting another mouthful. “But it does mean I can never let you go. Ever.”
Chapter Thirteen
______________________________
Olin
-The Present-
“SHIT, SHIT, SHIT.”
Comprehension shot back, wrenching my eyes open as a wash of pain throbbed in my skull. New pain compounded on top of old pain, wrenching a groan from my lips and a full body seize. I hissed under my breath, pressing palms against my temples, trying to rub the ache away.
What the hell happened?
I seemed to be asking that question a lot lately.
The rainforest mural framed Gil as he paced a few metres away, his back to me, both hands hidden in his hair. His own injuries from before seemed non-existent as he prowled with anxiety.
My eyes trailed from him to the rainforest graffiti, noticing an orangutan in the shadows and an otter playing in the river glistening by the floor.
My heart kicked with remembrance then thudded with panic.
Police.
Kidnapping.
Nothing...
He buried his face i
nto his hands. “Fuck, what have I done?” He looked at the ceiling as if in prayer, then growled as if cursing the lack of guidance. “Fuck!”
Spinning around, his gaze landed on mine, his hands tumbled to his sides. “Oh, thank God.” Bolting toward me, he skidded to his knees where I lay on his couch. “You’re okay.” He gathered me tight, crushing me in a bone-crunching hug. His lips brushed my aching temple, his breath fast and worried. “Thank fuck you’re okay.” His entire body shuddered as if holding me unlocked every gate and smashed every wall between us.
I willingly paid for the privilege of his hug with my headache. I could’ve lived in that moment forever—the moment where only truth existed. The truth of us. The truth that he did care. And deeply.
I tried to move in his arms. To hug him back. To pull him close.
But he fell backward, ripping his hold away, taking his warmth and safety. His eyes met mine, chaotic with monstrous things. “I thought I’d lost you.” His voice held a mutiny of self-hatred and decade’s worth of regret. “Again.”
“Wh-what happened?” I licked my lips, wincing as another throb of pain found me.
He jerked as if I’d slapped him. “You slipped.”
I’d woken in a total role reversal.
I’d taken his place, and he was the one nursing me.
But why is he being nurse in the first place?
I swallowed back a wash of nausea, blinking until my vision restored. “I slipped? How?” I looked down at my hands, expecting to see my phone in them. I’d been leaving. I’d been talking to the police.
I didn’t slip. I was slammed into the door.
Gil came closer, his face a riot of pain. He ducked by the couch, fumbling to take my hand; cupping it in both of his, he pressed cool lips to my knuckles. “I’m so, so sorry, O.”
“Wait...” I swallowed hard. “You did this to me?” I ripped my hand away. “You knocked me out?”
He hunched, his green eyes flashing. “I didn’t mean to. I only meant to unbalance you. I just wanted your phone. But...I pushed too hard. You tripped and fell against the door.” His throat worked as he swallowed back self-loathing. “You hit the handle. It...it knocked you out.” His eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck, I could’ve killed you.”
The Finished Masterpiece (Master of Trickery Book 3) Page 15