by Nina Hatch
“You should wear this tonight,” I tell her. “It’s beautiful.”
“Save it, she’s not listening anymore,” Olivia says as her grandmother drifts away to join a new conversation. But I really do want to know more.
“So, are you a fashion designer or something?” I ask.
“Oh, God no. Father would never allow that. No. I just do it on the side now, whenever I have time. Which means never, lately. No, I’m a financial analyst in Manhattan.” When I don’t say anything, she goes on, trying to pitch it to me better. “It’s a good job, great benefits, and there’s an accelerated promotion program, so, y’know, that’s always nice. Much higher probability of success, when it comes down to it.”
After a long pause, her eyes drift back to the green coat I’m still holding. “Do you really think I should wear it tonight? Not to the ceremony, of course, but maybe after?”
“I really do.”
Olivia’s face lights up in the first genuine smile I’ve seen from her since we met.
She reaches for the yellow wildflowers I set on the piano, and I assume she’s going to take them to the garbage before someone else does. Instead, she starts weaving one into her braided golden hair.
“I forgot to say thank you for these.”
The wedding ceremony is on a lower balcony of the Vincent Hotel. Even though I can hear waves crashing on the volcanic rocks below, the view is completely covered up by drapes and piping. Olivia hasn’t said a word to me since we sat down, and her body has gone tense, her face stony. I need to get her to open up to me a little, or at least get her to relax.
“Hey, why did they pay for the ocean view if they were going to cover it up?” I whisper to Olivia, giving her arm a gentle squeeze to bring her back to the present.
“Oh, because my sister’s an idiot. I don’t think Emily even knows she’s in another country right now,” she says. “Neither of us are even going to make it to the beach on this trip. She’s leaving for the mountains on her honeymoon, and I’m flying back to New York in the morning.” She covers her mouth with the wedding program to continue to whisper to me. “The only reason she had to have this destination wedding in the first place is because her friend got married in Nice last year, so she had to try to one-up her.”
I’ve been saying it all along. Rich people are fucking nuts.
The ceremony is long and boring, but finally, it ends. Olivia turns to me, her voice nervous, “I have to go through the receiving line, so you can meet me after if you want…?”
It’s clear that she doesn’t trust me to stick to the script. She has excellent judgment.
“And leave my girl all by herself? Well, that would be terribly impolite, wouldn’t it? You know I’ve been dying to meet the rest of your family, Liv. I want to tell them all about how I rescue koalas and bring them to my mother’s house in Miami.”
“It’s dogs and Aspen,” she hisses. “Jake, please?”
Damn, I love hearing my name on her lips.
I’ll love it even more when she’s screaming it later.
“Lighten up, I’ll take care of you tonight,” I say, resting my hand on the small of her back as we start to navigate through the mass of her stuck-up relatives. I even try to stay on my best behavior.
That is, until we get to the bride and groom.
“Well, well, well, looks like I finally get to meet Olivia’s mystery prince charming,” her sister starts off, tone dripping with sarcasm. “How much did you have to pay him for this little act, Liv? Does he even speak English, or did you just find some model off the beach?”
Olivia looks deflated. She’s about to answer, but I get there first.
“Pay me? I’m just glad Liv finally gave me a chance. I’ve been after her for three years, but she never noticed me,” I say, wrapping her in my arms. “She’s just so driven, so smart, she could have anyone she wanted.”
Liv turns around and stares at me, stunned. It’s as though she’s seeing me for the first time.
“After we were snowed in together during that conference in Aspen, though,” I continue, not knowing where I’m going with this story quite yet, “well, let’s just say I finally got her attention. Had to find a couple ways to keep warm, if you know what I mean,” I say, giving Connor a conspiratorial wink. “Liv, should I tell them about the time you wanted to go skinny dipping in the hot springs? When we found that ice cave and I pulled you behind the rocks and I —”
“Jake!” Olivia exclaims.
“I thought you didn’t know how to swim?” Connor says, his eyes flashing, desperate to catch the lie.
“I taught her. She’s a real natural,” I say, slapping Connor on the shoulder. “Anyway, congratulations, you two.”
Connor clears his throat uncomfortably and tries to shift his attention to the next guests in line. Olivia’s sister, meanwhile, is speechless. She’s gaping at both of us, her mouth open.
When we clear the line, I can’t tell from the look on Olivia’s face if she’s going to slap me or kiss me. Really, I’d take either.
But she doesn’t get the chance. Emily grabs Olivia by the wrist to help her change into a new dress for the reception — and ask her some follow-up questions, I’d imagine.
I’m left to look around at the crowd of dull people saying dull things to each other, wondering how long I’ll have to play pretend at this reception. In Ernesto’s suit, people are looking at me like I must be someone worth something, and it’s making my skin crawl.
I’m getting impatient, but I at least have enough sense to take advantage of the open bar, so I settle in at a cocktail table where I can nurse my bourbon and keep an eye on the door I saw Olivia vanish through. When she finally reemerges, I remember why she’s worth all this trouble.
She looks fucking delicious.
Under the twinkling lights strung across the dance floor of the reception, Olivia’s hair shimmers like spun gold, curls tumbling over her bare shoulders. My fingers ache to reach out and tangle through those strands, and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more in my life than to twist her hair in one hand and pull it back so I can kiss her pale neck.
I notice that she’s now wearing the mother-disapproved red lipstick from earlier, and I can’t help but wonder how many smacks it would take to get her ass that shade.
My dick goes rock hard at the thought.
Enough pussyfooting. It’s time for me to act.
Good old Aunt Patricia is making her way toward Olivia again, but before anyone else can steal her away from me, I spring into action. Snagging a champagne flute from the bar with a spin move, I finish right in front of Olivia, sweeping her arms up into an elegant hold.
I don’t have the dance moves to back this up, but I’m not throwing away my shot.
“Care to dance?” I ask, and before she even has a chance to catch her breath, I start to spin her across the floor. My hand right above her ass, I pull her in closer to me. “If we’re going to pretend we’re in love, we might as well give the people something to talk about,” I whisper in her ear.
Olivia’s eyes widen, but I can feel her soften into my arms, letting go just enough to play the part of a woman enjoying a dance with her fake boyfriend.
“So, what did you ever see in Captain Colorless anyway?” I ask, her body movements starting to echo mine.
“You mean Connor?”
“Is that his name?”
“You know it is. And, I don’t know. He’s not so bad. He was always very…suitable.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is stupid.” She looks like she might protest, but I don’t let her. “He let you get away, didn’t he?”
Olivia’s lips turn up in spite of herself, and she sways more easily with my rhythm.
“You really don’t know how to swim?” I ask, thinking back to earlier.
“Nope. I don’t know how to drive either. I grew up in Manhattan, so I never needed to. I’m great at ordering cars with an app, though. And calculating risk.
And other than that, I’m good with spreadsheets and graphs, and that’s about it.”
“And you’re good with a measuring tape, apparently,” I say. “The dress and coat I saw earlier look professional. How did you learn to do that?”
“It doesn’t matter, none of that is worth anything,” Olivia says with a lonely sigh. “So, an ice cave, huh?” she asks, clearly hunting for a change of subject.
“Isn’t that what people do in Aspen? I don’t know, I’ve never been.”
“Really? I’ve never met a trust fund guy like you who hasn’t been to Aspen,” she says with a quizzical look. I want to laugh at how wrong she is about me, but it doesn’t matter. She’s crafted her fictitious boyfriend pretty vividly, and I have nothing in common with him. But if playing the part for one night gets her underneath me, I’m more than willing to do it.
“You mean to tell me you don’t remember the ice cave?” I say with a smirk. “Or that magical weekend in Aspen when we met? Why, I’m insulted. Guess I better remind you, then,” I say, moving in closer to whisper in her ear. “The way I remember it, we were snowed in, so there was no access to the roads, but we hiked out on the mountain to where there’s a hot spring off the river. You insisted we take off all of our clothes and jump in the water. You’re so reckless like that.”
She laughs, a sound like church bells on Christmas morning. “Ha. Me, reckless? Nothing could be further from the truth.”
“Shhh. I’m telling this story. We swam away, leaving everything on a rock. That’s when we saw a cave filled with icicles. It was so beautiful, and you wanted to see it, but by the time we got there, you were shivering.” I feel a shudder run through her body as my breath brushes her neck, and I continue. “I told you that the thing about being in the cold is, it amplifies where you can feel the heat. So when I propped you up against the wall and pinned your tiny wrists up with my hand, you could feel me everywhere, tracing down your body with my tongue.”
I hear her breath catch in her throat, her fingers clenching into my back.
It triggers something primal in me, and I catch Olivia off guard as the song kicks in with the final notes, dipping her low for a big finish that even garners a smattering of applause from the other guests. While I have her captive in my arms, I grab a fistful of her hair, pulling it back and pressing my lips to her throat, just like I wanted to earlier. I feel her inhale sharply, gripping onto my shoulders a little harder. I’m so close to her that I can hear her let out a soft moan.
The fact that she’s so responsive, so turned on, makes me want to fucking explode, my cock straining against the zipper of my pants.
“I can’t believe I forgot that story,” she murmurs, her lips gently parted. The way she looks at me through her dark eyelashes — so soft and so curious — makes me long for the memory to be real. For all of this to be real.
“It’s better if I show you the rest. Do you want to get out of here?”
“I…I can’t,” she breathes, her focus breaking as she looks around at her family and the other guests still watching us on the dance floor. “Not yet. I have to stay and help out.” But she moves in closer to my chest as she says the words, and when the music starts up again, she doesn’t try to leave.
Which is probably for the best, because it takes some time for the bulge in my pants to calm back down.
After I choke down my swollen lust for a few more songs, I feel a small tap on my shoulder.
“May I cut in?” asks Olivia’s grandma, Imogene.
“It would be my pleasure,” I say, shooting a wink at Olivia as I watch her go. Her grandmother is so tiny I have to bend to reach her, but she’s light on her feet and I can tell she knows what she’s doing on the dance floor. She lets me continue to lead, but I’m sure she can tell I have no fucking idea what I’m doing.
“Olivia tells me so many good things about you,” Imogene says. “She knows I worry, but it’s not about the things she thinks.”
I try to give her a confident smile, not knowing what she means.
“Tell me,” she continues, “where is it that you work again?”
I nearly tread on her toe.
My mind goes completely blank — I can’t remember a thing about the actual rich prick character I’m supposed to be playing tonight.
“Um, Greensea Fishing?”
“Close, dear. It’s Bluestar Freight.”
“Right, we just…acquired that company,” I say, grasping at a recovery. But her grandmother’s eyes — the same eyes as Olivia’s — see right through me.
What am I doing? I ask myself. Why am I trying this hard to pretend to be someone I’m not?
“Your secret’s safe with me, darling,” Imogene says. “I’m happy to see Olivia smiling again. She’s a girl who needs a little adventure. Much like me,” she says, indicating her light purple hair with a wink.
I’ve stopped pretending I know how to dance and I’m standing, wooden, underneath the twinkling lights.
“Come by my apartment in New York next week, will you?” Imogene continues, taking it that our dance must be over. “I’ll make you some of my famous tea and we’ll get to know one another better. It’s been so long since I’ve met one of Olivia’s friends that doesn’t bore me to tears.”
I’m surprised to find that I’m nodding my head. “As long as you don’t mind if I add some whiskey to mine,” I tell her.
“Is there any other way?” she asks. “Why do you think my tea is so famous?”
Did I just make plans with Olivia’s family?
I try to laugh along, guiding Imogene back to her chair, but inside, I’m in free fall.
I’ve taken this too far. Tonight was supposed to be about a quick fuck with a sexy blonde who I’ll never see again. Not about suddenly caring what she thinks about me or letting down her adorable grandmother. In all the lies of pretending Olivia and I had a past together, I caught myself pretending we could have a future. But guys like me don’t get to have girls like Olivia. When did I let myself start wanting more than just one night?
I need to leave this alone.
Leaving is the only way I know how to survive, and it has to be now. Olivia has family, plans, a life. I have nothing. Right now, I need to put her back in her snow globe life, where she has her past and future all preserved delicately under glass and no one can fuck it up or change the weather on her.
Olivia is in the back getting ready to give her maid of honor speech, so I seize the moment. She won’t even notice that I’m gone and I’m sure she won’t remember me after tomorrow. I swipe one more champagne flute for the road, but then I pause, going back to grab a bottle from behind the bar when the server isn’t looking.
Scrawling out a few quick words on a cocktail napkin, I drop the note and the bottle off at Olivia’s empty seat before vanishing over the rocky bluff and into the night.
Chapter Four
Olivia
Liv —
You’re brave, smart, and beautiful. I can’t explain where I went, but I’m sure you’ll come up with something. Thank you for letting me get to know you. Make sure you get to the beach before you leave tomorrow. Do it for you.
— J
Fuck this note.
It’s the third time I’ve read it, scrawled out in thick, clumsy letters. I don’t need to read it anymore. Crumpling up the note, I pop the cork on the champagne Jake left for me and I take a swig. The reception is wrapping up, and I guess there’s no reason for me to be here any longer, especially if I want to get any sleep before my flight tomorrow morning.
I’m better off — I know that — but I can’t help but feel like I’m leaving something important behind as I clutch the bottle to my body, walking back to the lobby of the Vincent in dark silence.
I wish I could be the woman Jake described, but I’m not. In his arms, I felt more free, lighter somehow. I press a hand to the top of my chest to find that I’m still burning up from the heat of Jake’s touch, and my pulse is racing under my skin like
a fluttery sparrow. Taking another gulp of champagne, my mind dips back to the way he pressed me close to him, the words he whispered in my ear. It made me feel bold and alive, and just the memory of it makes me wet.
This is just perfect, I think. The last guy I dated turned out to be fucking my sister on the side, my pretend boyfriend bails on me, and now I’m turned on by some smug, irresistible bad boy who won’t even give me the common courtesy of a pity fuck. I thought the whole point of putting up with him was that I’d at least get to see him naked.
I officially have the worst taste in men.
Using the base of my now empty champagne bottle, I punch the up button to summon the elevator and slump into the corner of the lift as the mirrored doors slide closed, leaving me to stare at my own reflection — a drunken massacre in a pretty dress. Maybe Jake was right to leave me in this world of gilded mirrors and champagne imported from places I’ll never visit. Maybe, after I fly back home to New York and head into the office on Monday, I should go find Jordan, offer him the best five pumps of his life, and let him carry me off into the lackluster suburban sunset. Okay, so Jordan doesn’t have the upper body strength to carry me, but I could probably pretend that’s what happened. I have a good imagination.
Right now, for example, I’m imagining Jake. Jake looks like he knows how to carry a woman off to wherever he wants to. He has that caveman thing about him, like he could fuck you up and leave you begging for more. The thought of that sends a current through my body — a pulse so strong, it wakes my long-dormant clit. It’s been a long time since I’ve been laid, and even those distant memories don’t provide much in the way of inspiration.
I’m inching my dress up around my thighs, sliding my fingertips under the waistband of my panties when the elevator dings that it’s reached the eighth floor. Not even thinking, I slam the emergency stop button on the elevator hard, and the doors stutter back to their closed position.