by Lori L. Otto
“I’ve been keeping myself busy. I wanted a little distance, too. I wanted to make sure my feelings weren’t just physical. I wanted to take that out of the equation for a bit.”
“And they’re not?”
“No, they are physical–especially with you sitting on me like this.” I simply raise my eyebrows and settle closer against him. “Olivia, it’s so much more than my desire to be with you. I’m not going to lie, it’s there, and it’s even stronger than it was before. But it’s because I really didn’t like my life without you in it. I missed talking to you, and teaching you things, and learning new things with you. It wasn’t just that I’d lost my girlfriend–I’d lost my best friend, too.”
“Awww.”
“Don’t mock me.” He starts to tickle my waist, but stops after my first squeal. He nudges me off of his lap, and I help him to his feet.
“So aside from you painting that masterpiece, what have I missed?”
“Nothing,” I tell him. “I’ve been studying a lot.”
“Grades okay?”
“The first couple weeks were a little rocky, but I’m back on track.”
“Good. We can start tutoring again, if you’d like. I don’t work on Tuesdays or Thursdays.” He takes my hand and we start walking down an unpaved path. I realize those were the two weekdays that were always reserved for me. I squeeze his hand a little harder.
“Just for an excuse to see you, I’m not going to say no, but school ends in a few weeks... and then we’ll have all summer,” I tell him with a smile.
“Well, I am going to be working some, you know.”
“Oh, right. I’m going to lead a few summer courses at the Art Room, too.”
“We should do one together. Maybe an evening class?”
“That’s a great idea!” I look up at him and admire the sweet look on his face. “I’m so proud of you and your scholarships, Jon. I knew it would work out.”
“Thanks. And I’m grateful to the Art Room. You really didn’t know?”
“No, I had nothing to do with it.” I stop walking and turn to face him. “I lied to you before, Jon. I don’t know why I made that stuff up, but it was so stupid of me. I didn’t mean to lie, though. I was really just making false assumptions about what I thought I could get my parents to do.”
“I know. But Olivia, if there’s anything I know about myself, it’s that I will do whatever I have to do in order to get what I want. I just don’t let things stand in my way, and I may seem diffident about things sometimes, but it’s really just a way for me to manage my own disappointment. I don’t expect for anything to be given to me. I’ve worked hard for everything I’ve gotten in life.”
“I know you have.”
“Including you.”
“I know.”
“And I’ll keep working hard for you, to make you happy. I like it when you’re proud of me.”
“You impress me constantly, Jon, and I feel like I can do anything when I’m with you.” He studies my expression before leaning in to me.
“Good,” he whispers, then gently presses his lips to mine. “You can. I want you to feel confident and comfortable with me, Olivia.”
“I do.”
He tilts my head to kiss me deeper. I cling tightly to the waistline of his pants as his hands wander through my hair to the nape of my neck. He massages firmly, relaxing me to the point of weakness once more. He moves one arm around my waist to support me against his body.
“I want you to feel like you can do everything with me,” he breathes weakly next to my ear, resting his head against mine, as if waiting nervously for my reaction.
“I do,” I tell him, my thoughts clouded, my heart beating out of my chest. I release my grip from his slacks and move my hands to his chest, pushing him back so I can look into his eyes. His thumbs trace my cheekbones and he smiles earnestly. “I do, Jon.”
“I’ll take care of you, Olivia. I promise.”
“I know. I trust you.”
“Good,” he sighs, pressing his forehead to mine. “I love you.”
“I love you more.”
He laughs quietly and kisses my forehead, then embraces me tightly and rocks back and forth on his feet slowly. “If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep.”
“You’re not dreaming, Shakespeare,” I tell him. “This is real, and I love you. I trust you. I want to be with you, and only you. I’ve chosen you.”
“Choisie,” he whispers.
“Choisie.” Curiously, he pushes the collar of my blouse aside, glancing at my necklace. “I haven’t taken it off because I could never give up on you. You made me believe that I was someone special, and I didn’t want to let that go. I didn’t want to forget it.”
“You are, Olivia.” Our kiss is sweet and tender and too short. “It’s getting dark and I think it might rain. Should we head back to the car?”
“Sure.”
“We still have hours to kill,” he tells me after checking his watch. He raises his eyebrows suggestively.
“Not tonight,” I tell him with a playful slap to his arm. He laughs and puts his arm around me as we walk back to my car. He opens the door for me, then assumes his place on the driver’s side. He starts the car and changes the radio station, but makes no motion to leave the parking space. Instead, we just talk.
I tell him how my parents and I reconciled, and recount to him the various ways my dad and I have worked to bridge the gaping hole I’d dug between us. I want him to know that I’ve changed.
He fills me in on his new job, detailing what he does and explaining why he got the job in the first place. He wanted to help his mother out financially while he was still in the apartment and able to do so. He was already worried about how things would be without him when he moved out for college in the fall.
“You know, with the Art Room money, you can spend that however you want,” I remind him.
“Mom already told me she wouldn’t let me use any of the money I’ve received for scholarships on her or my brothers. It’s for me to make a start for myself; that’s what she told me. I was honestly surprised. But I can’t just leave them behind. I want to make sure they have enough, once I’ve moved out. I’m not planning on working during the school year, so I want to do as much as I can now.”
“You are such a good man,” I tell him. “You really are someone I could see myself with, thirty years down the line.”
“But we don’t have to decide that now. I don’t want that kind of pressure–on either of us. I’m just happy with you now. And I hope I’m happy with you thirty years from now, too, but let’s just focus on today.”
“Okay,” I agree.
He picks up my left hand, studying it carefully. “If I hadn’t just seen those four spectacular portraits, I’d ask you why you stopped painting. These don’t look like the hands of an artist anymore.”
I smile, admiring the unmarred skin and painted fingernails. “Sure they do,” I argue softly. “The smock-dress is gone, too.”
“Were those pieces of it in your last painting? The things that looked like they were blowing away in the wind?”
I nod. “You see, I don’t need him anymore, either.”
“I’m proud of you, Olivia.” He squeezes my hand as I smile and thank him. “Where’s your ring?”
“In my purse.” I’d carried it with me since the day he broke up.
“Let me make you a new promise.”
I grab my bag and search for the tiny felt bag that holds the ring he gave me. I hand it to him and watch him pull the small token out.
“Olivia Holland, from this day forward, I vow to live in the moment with you, and to make every single moment the best it can be. I promise to never take you for granted, and I will make sure you know that being with you is the best choice I’ve ever made.”
“I’ll take that promise,” I tell him. “And I’ll do the same for you.”
He smiles and puts the ring back on my finger, then kisses it as his eyes stay tr
ained on mine.
“So prom’s next week,” he says.
“I know. I may have glanced at the invitation a few times over the past couple of weeks.”
“I want you to come with me. Is that enough time for you to get a dress? And whatever else a girl needs for prom?”
“I think so,” I laugh.
“What do you think your parents will say about the after party?”
“I’m not sure. But I’ll ask them again. I’m sure they’ll let me stay out later than normal, though.”
“I’d love to have all night with you.” My stomach tightens in a knot as the back of his hand brushes against my cheek. I study his expression to see if he’s suggesting what I think he is. “I got a room at the hotel.”
I inhale a small gulp of air, my breath shaky. He angles his body toward mine, and I shift my posture to mirror his. I hold his hand across the center console.
“That might require a few more promises.”
He turns down the radio and looks at me curiously.
“Anything, Olivia.”
I speak timidly, looking down at our hands. “Promise me this isn’t the same as what happened with those other girls.”
“Not even close.” He strokes my ring with his thumb. I watch this soothing motion, hopeful; my fears lessen by the second. “That summer was awful, Liv. Unbearable. My dad was my lifeline, and he was gone. I struggled to stay on track, and I kept people I trusted close–too close, in a few instances, but it was what I had to do to survive. I didn’t love them. I was desperate for affection, that’s all.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, running my hand through his soft hair.
“It’s okay.” He pulls my hand to his mouth and kisses it. “You said promises.” He urges me to continue.
“Promise me that we can take it slow.”
“Hey,” he whispers, tipping my chin up and looking at me with assurance and self-confidence. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I won’t hurt you.” He kisses me softly, his finger lingering around my neck, tickling the hollow beneath my ear. I tremor suddenly at his touch.
I accept his answer with a quiet nod and a shy smile.
“Is that all?” he asks. I shake my head. “What else?”
“Promise me this won’t change how you feel about me.”
“Olivia,” he begins, pulling my lips to his again. I can feel my pulse pounding in every inch of my body. Wanting to be closer to him, I rearrange myself on the seat, kneeling and putting my arms around his neck. He moans softly, his hands skimming up the sides of my body and his thumbs barely brushing my breasts. He stops me briefly. “I can’t make you that promise,” he says before returning to our embrace. I kiss him for another few seconds before I realize what he said. I pull my arms back and kneel up straight, feeling his fingers travel down my arms and back to my hands.
“You can’t?”
“No.” He weaves his fingers through mine, on both of my hands. “This will change me. It will change you, too. I can’t pretend like it won’t. But tell me something.”
“What?” Soft rain starts to fall on the car.
“Think about how you feel about me right this second.”
I do as he asks, and can’t help but smile. “Okay.”
“Now try to imagine how you’ll feel about me after you lie beside me, naked and vulnerable and unsure, but safe in my arms.” My body blushes crimson; warmth spreads over me at the thought of truly being with him. I inch closer to him once more, upright on my knees, my hands resting on his strong arms. He scrapes his nails lightly up my leg until his hand is grasping the back of my thigh. “Think about what it will feel like, being touched, and kissed and loved... by someone who thinks the world of you. Someone who chose you over all others.”
The desire in his eyes is too much for me to stand, or ignore, so I don’t. He welcomes me, full in his arms, and I wish we were anywhere but in my car, where I start to wonder if there was strategy behind my parent’s choice in center consoles because there’s no maneuvering around it. I hit my knee on the parking break, and Jon starts to chuckle a little, making me laugh.
“Now, see? Do you think you’ll feel the same about me?” He nuzzles his nose against mine.
“I already feel differently.”
CHAPTER 19
“How is Jon’s tie going to match this dress when you just got it yesterday?”
“He’s wearing a black tie,” I tell them, admiring the beautiful wine color of my floor-length gown. “Just a classic tux.”
“Well, that’s no fun,” Clara says.
“Well, Anna made his boutonniere, and it matches the colors perfectly. He’s going to look handsome. You’ll see.”
“I’m sure he will, Livvy,” Lexi says. “And he will be floored when he sees you.”
“You think?” I ask, straightening out the delicate crystal belt around my waist.
“I know.”
“Are you sure I shouldn’t wear my hair down?”
“No, you want to show off your neckline,” Clara says. “Stop messing with it. And close your eyes.”
I do as she says, feeling her heavy hand brush on eye shadow.
“Don’t make me look like a prostitute,” I tell her.
“Are you saying I normally do?”
“No, I just don’t want to look like one.” I feel my bangs, trying to better secure them into place. Clara pulls my hand away and sets it in my lap. “I just wish I had a clip or something! It feels like it’s going to fall out.”
“It’s going to be fine, Livvy. Trust us? Please?”
“Alright, Lex. You, I trust.”
“Careful, I’m doing the makeup. You didn’t say anything about not wanting to look like a clown.”
“I will kill you, Clara.”
“Sit still.” I sit motionless while she applies mascara to the false lashes she had insisted I wear. “Okay, now open your eyes.”
Cautiously, I look at myself in the mirror.
“You look so pretty,” Lexi says.
“It looks great, Clara. I’m sorry for doubting you.”
“You said you wanted sexy and smoldering. Did I deliver?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good. Now where’s the necklace?”
“In the red box in my top drawer. You’re sure I should wear that instead of the one he gave me?”
“You never have an opportunity to wear this.” She hands the box to Lexi and starts rummaging through my underwear drawer.
“Clara, shut that.”
“No, way,” she says, pulling out a soft pink lace bra. “This is fancy.”
“It is not.” Honestly, it is, but I try to brush her off, not wanting her handling all of my delicates.
Lexi unclasps the diamond necklace that my dad had given to me when my brother was born. I was only ten when I received it, and until now, I’d only worn it to one wedding, two funerals, and a formal sweet-sixteen party for a girl at school.
“So, is what you’re wearing underneath that dress better or worse than this?” Clara says, waving the bra around.
“Clara, seriously.”
“Better or worse?”
“Better!” I tell her, helping Lexi straighten the necklace. Clara puts the garment back, but instead of shutting the drawer, she pulls out a delicate pair of silk panties.
“Sexy,” she teases me. “Better or worse?”
“Better!”
“Where’d you get all of this?”
“I got a gift card from Anna for my birthday. But no one knows, so put them back before my mom walks in!”
“Alright,” she says. Before I know it, she has pulled out a matching blue set of underwear.
“Come on, Clara,” Lexi says.
“Better or worse?”
“Just trust that you’ll find nothing better in that drawer than what I have on, alright?”
She finally gives up and puts the clothing back, but she continues to poke around the drawer. “I can’t believe that y
our dad is letting you stay out all night. My mom never would have allowed it.”
“He is?” Lexi asks. I smile and nod, blushing a little.
“Clara, didn’t you go to some place in Jersey after yours? You did! I remember, you did!”
“I did, but I wasn’t allowed to. I was grounded until the end of the school year.”
“Oooh, that’s right,” Lexi says.
“Your mom was so mad,” I add. “And she made my dad go and look for you.”
“Yeah. Oops,” she says, completely nonchalant.
“So what are y’all going to do all night?” Lexi asks.
“There’s some party at the hotel.”
“Your parents are letting you go to an after party at the hotel?” she asks, suspicious.
“Oh, it’s not like that. The parents of the senior class are apparently hosting it.”
“Well, that’s nice,” she says.
“Whatever!” Clara argues, and ignores my warning glare. “It sounds lame. I mean, why’d we get you these if you’re going to be hanging out with parents all night?” She waves a container of pills in front of Lexi and me.
“Clara!” I yell, grabbing them from her and shoving them back in the back of my drawer.
“Livvy!” Lexi says, stunned. “Are those...”
“No!” I lie. Clara ambles over to the bed, sitting down. “Yes,” I say, feeling guilty, “but please, Lexi, don’t say anything to my parents, or yours.”
“Liv, I won’t. But what are you thinking?”
“I mean,” I start, not wanting to explain this. Originally, I hadn’t wanted to talk about it with anyone other than Jon, but I was nervous to go to the doctor alone and I figured Clara wouldn’t be judgmental. Plus, with all the secrets I’d kept for her over the years, I thought she’d be better about keeping mine.
“You haven’t talked to Emi about this?”
“No.”
“But you tell her everything.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to tell her this.”
“Oh. Well, Liv, are you sure you want to do this? Tonight, I mean?”
“Yes. Jon and I talked about it. We’re ready.”
“Okay. But sweetie, it’s one of the most important decisions you’ll ever make. It’s one of the most intimate moments of your life, giving yourself completely to another person. This isn’t something you should take lightly.”