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We’re ten minutes late when we get out of Loot, and Amy’s phone rings. She fishes it out of her purse and puts it to her ear.
“Hello?” she says sweetly. The volume is down so low, I don’t know who it is, until she says, “Hi OC. Relax, we’re coming. We just had to make an emergency stop at Loot, since Haley took so long buying you presents.”
I want to kick her. It was supposed to be a surprise.
“Alright, already. We’re coming!” she ends sullenly, clicking off the call. It rings before she has a chance to drop it in her purse. She frowns and puts the phone back to her ear.
“What now?” she asks. “Oh, get me a diet and the taco salad, no tortilla bowl. Yeah, just the salad, you know, leaves in a regular bowl? Get one for Haley too. She’ll love it. Okay, bye.”
“We’re having Mexican?” I say.
“Hope you don’t mind me ordering for you, but this salad is the best in the world. You’ll thank me, I swear.”
“Sounds good,” I tell her, because I don’t care what I’m going to eat. I’m more excited about giving Oscar his presents.
The restaurant is a longer walk than I expected. When we get there, Oscar pulls out a chair for me and I get tangled with the waiter who is trying to drop off our food.
“Would you step back, please, and let the lady sit down?” Oscar asks. The waiter, affronted, gives a stiff nod, but when Oscar stands, the waiter’s eyes shift submissively to his feet. Oscar’s body is powerful, and I hadn’t really noticed it before, but when he throws his shoulders back, he’s intimidating too. Once I’m seated, Oscar leans toward me and says, “I gave you the money to enjoy yourself.”
“I did,” I tell him. I don’t go any further, and Oscar sits back with a smile, but doesn’t ask me anything else. His phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket.
“Is it her again?” Landon asks, but Oscar shakes his head as he stands up and walks away from the table, with his phone to one ear and his finger blocking the other.
“Her who?” Amy says, picking up her fork and stabbing it into the tortilla-bowled salad. “Remember, I said no tortilla?”
“I told them,” Landon says with a shrug. “And who do you think it is? Sophia’s been blowing up his phone for the last hour. Hasn’t she called you?”
“Yeah,” Amy says, pushing a fork full of taco salad into her mouth. “She’s just sad. I think he’s doing the right thing by just letting her walk it off. I don’t know why she’s taking it this hard. Whenever I got turned down, I just went to the bar and picked another guy.” Amy smiles at Landon. “How do you think I got you?”
“I think it just happened so quickly, it was crazy for both of us,” I say. I really have no right to say anything, to interject myself into this circle of friends that predates my four-day relationship to Oscar.
“It did happen pretty much overnight, didn’t it?” Amy agrees, and I’m instantly sorry I opened my mouth. Even though Amy’s words are more curious than vicious, her gaze makes me squirm as she asks, “How do you think anyone can fall in love that fast?”
Oscar comes back, and lays his phone done by his plate as he takes his seat. He puts a cloth napkin across his lap and says, “What did I miss?”
“Not a thing,” Landon says. I notice he’s only got water in front of him, with a lemon wedge floating in it.
“Not eating yet?” I ask in order to change the subject.
“We ordered a bread basket,” he says, rubbing his gut. “That should do it for me.”
“Did you talk to Soph?” Amy asks Oscar. She pokes around her salad instead of looking at him, like it’s no big deal.
“No, just business. Dull stuff,” he says.
“Have you talked to her at all?”
“No,” his voice is a little more stern. “And I don’t plan to.”
“Just saying, it’s probably for the best at this point.”
“I think so.” Oscar says. He jabs his fork toward my salad. “Any good?”
“It’s fine,” I tell him. It’s a salad. But when he smiles, I smile back, and the salad ends up being exactly what Amy said it was—the best in the world.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
OSCAR FLOPS ACROSS OUR BED. He’s followed me upstairs, when I said I was going to put away the stuff I bought. I was planning on hiding one present under his pillow, but with him laying on it, hiding anything is kind of impossible.
“So,” he says. “Amy said you bought me presents?”
“I did. But you can’t have all of them right now.”
“No?” his voice is a husky caress.
“Nope. You have to earn them.”
“Alright, I’ll play,” he says. His eyes flash, and my stomach is shot straight through with a tingle that feels like melting ice crystals. “This sounds like it could be exciting.”
I hadn’t really thought about him earning anything, but the thought popped into my head, and it sounded exciting to me when I said it too.
“I’ll let you know,” I say. “But you can have one thing now.”
I pick through the bags and find the first one. I hand it to him, and Oscar slips the boxed cologne out of the bag. He smiles, watching me, as he lifts the edge of the box to his nose.
“You like this...” he says and I nod. “ I meant for you to buy things for yourself, not for me, Hale.”
“I did buy something for myself.”
“Show me,” he says. He opens the box, removes the cologne, and puts some on, as I find the bag I want. I slide the nightgown from the bag and hold it up.
“It’s pretty isn’t it?” I say.
“It is. But I’d rather you wear nothing to bed.”
A blush creeps up from my neck. “Don’t say things like that.”
“Why?” he says. “It’s true.”
“Because it makes me feel embarrassed.”
He bites his lip.
“Ok, then I won’t say it anymore,” he says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to be embarrassed. I meant to let you know what I feel like whenever I lay down beside you.”
“That was—embarrassingly sweet,” I say. I pick up the bag with the tie and hand it to him.
“I earned one already?” He laughs. “This is going to be easy.”
He reaches in, and pulls the tie from the bag. In the evening light, filtering in from the windows, it takes me a minute to recognize which present I gave him. It’s not the tie that I picked out at the store. The clerk must’ve switched it by accident. The tie Oscar’s holding is a funky olive green with cream, tie-dyed splatters. Oscar tries to smile as he stumbles for something nice to say. He holds it up and squints at it.
“It’s, um...” He rubs it between his fingers. “It’s nice?”
I break out in giggles, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“It’s hideous!” I squeal.
“I didn’t want to say that.”
“It is! That’s not the tie I bought you! I got you one with a really cool design on it! Somebody mixed it up.”
“Oh good,” he says. “I was afraid I’d have to wear it.”
“No, no,” I laugh. “I wouldn’t let you if you tried!”
Oscar steps closer to me. “Thank you,” he says. “For the present.”
“It’s a present-fail,” I giggle.
“You could always give me another,” he says, but his eyes rove to the nightgown, and the hard blush creeps into my cheeks again. He lifts his hand to my face, cupping my cheek and rubbing his thumb on my skin. His tone drops into that lovely, deep thrum as he says, “I have something for you too.”
“What?” I say and Oscar lifts the tie to eye level.
“Let me,” he whispers as he places the soft tie over my eyes. My body goes stiff as he knots the tie at the back of my head. I can’t see, but I’m aware of Oscar’s heat leaving me. I hear his footsteps crossing the floor, the snick of the lock on the bedroom door, and his return gait.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m nervous. What are you going to do?”
“Just relax and let me,” he says. His heat dances at my cheek and trails lazily down my jaw. His tongue moves over my mouth, and I part my lips like a baby bird, waiting for his kiss.
But his kisses move down my throat and across my collarbone. He nibbles my shoulder; his tongue slides over my skin, until he stops to plant a kiss in my elbow. His body presses against my legs, but then the delicious warmth moves away, and his mouth moves slowly down my arm to my wrist. He leaves a kiss in my palm that lights a fire, despite the tingling ice crystals in my stomach.
He places something in my hand and then his hair brushes the skin and I feel his warmth breath in my lap, heating the triangle between my legs. He kisses the tops of my thighs, moving down to my kneecaps. His hands lift my leg, and his mouth ends at my feet, a kiss on the bottom of each sole that sends rocket flares screaming into my head. I am about to part my legs, to lay back and pull him up over me, when he removes the tie from my eyes.
I blink. He is kneeling at my knees, a hand on either side of my thighs. I look down at the hard thing in my hand. A box. A ring box.
“Will you marry me, Hale?” he asks. He reaches out and opens the box, as I sit there staring stupidly at him. Inside, the ring sparkles with unexpected colors. There is a round diamond in the center with a blue cast to it, surrounded by a halo of purple sapphires. The filigree band twists up around the setting. I’ve never seen any piece of jewelry as beautiful as this.
“Will you?” Oscar asks again, removing the ring. He takes my hand, and slips the ring onto my finger. “Say yes. Please, Hale. Not just because we’re supposed to, but because you think you might actually be able to fall in love with me.”
“Okay,” I breathe.
“Is that a yes?” he asks. I have to be able to try. He’s trying hard enough for both of us and the more I’m with him, the more trouble I’m having finding reasons why I should keep fighting it. I can blame the whole arrangement on necessity, but when he talks to me, or smiles at me, or touches me, something in me keeps saying let him.
“Yes,” I say, and Oscar jumps up, pushing me over, so he can climb on top of me, laughing. Then his mouth is on mine, and our shared laughter is caught in our kiss, with no means of escape.
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“I want Sher to be the first one to know,” I say, grabbing Oscar’s arm as he tries to pull me onto my feet. He wants to go downstairs and announce my answer to Landon, even though Landon already knew about the ring. “Can I have your phone?”
“Hmm,” Oscar hums, pulling the phone from his pocket. He’s standing in front of me, his waist at eye level. He holds his phone just out of my reach. “I think you should earn it,” he says.
“I could trade you, a present for a present,” I say, but he shakes his head.
“No trades. Some things you just have to earn,” he says.
“Earn how?” I ask, and he picks up the ugly tie from off the bed.
“This,” he says. He holds it up, twisting the ends of the fabric around his hands, waiting for my decision. I frown, but I don’t argue with him. He smiles as he slides the tie back over my eyes and around my head, knotting it carefully in the back, so it doesn’t pull my hair. As he secures the knot, I smell the cologne I bought him, and feel his breath in my ear as he whispers, “Relax.”
I don’t bother to tell him I’m caught right in between. In the darkness that the tie provides, I feel as brave as I did on the beach, but knowing that beyond the tie, the light of the room allows him to see everything, I grow tense all over again.
“I’m going to take off my shirt, alright?” he says.
“Okay,” I say. I hear the fabric as he pulls it over his head. Then, his hands are on mine, lifting my fingertips to his chest. He holds my palms against his skin as he lowers himself to kneel in front of me.
“Would you like to touch me?” he asks.
“Okay,” I gulp. But he catches my hand before I can move it over his hard flesh.
“No, Hale,” he whispers, leaning close to me. “Would you like to touch me?”
I swallow a breath. I open my eyes inside the tie, but see nothing but the dark. The brave dark. I try to forget about what can be seen beyond my own eyelashes, as I swallow again and answer, “Yes.”
He lets go of my hand, and I trail the tips of my fingers over his skin. I follow the smooth arc of his collarbone, feel the rise and fall of his breath, and trace his ribs. He holds still, as I place my palm over his heart and pause to feel the beat. I work my hands outward from his hard shoulders, and down his arms, touching the taut muscles. My blood turns to liquid fire as I grasp his arms and pull him closer. I lean forward and place my lips against his skin.
His breathing escalates. He moves a hand beneath my chin, gently lifting it to reveal my lips. The pressure of his mouth against mine becomes more urgent, his tongue moving inside my cheek as his hands move down to my waist. He grips my shirt, and I put my hand on top of his to stop him. He reaches up with the opposite hand, cupping the back of my head and drawing me even closer to him.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, as his mouth closes over mine again. He strips me of my shirt gently, the same way he did on the beach. But this time, he groans, laying me back on the bed, and I’m reminded that he can see everything I can’t. I try to grasp the covers of the bed and yank them free to cover myself, but Oscar grabs my wrist. “No, Hale, please,” he says.
I close my eyes behind the tie again and, just like at the beach, I concentrate on letting myself go. I focus on the way his hair feels, the temperature of his skin, and how he moves his mouth so that one second it feels like a massage, and the next, it sucks at my skin in a way that makes me writhe. When I do, Oscar nips at me with a chuckle.
And then his fingers are on the top button of my shorts. He unzips them and begins to peel them down.
“Wait, Oscar,” I say, and he pauses, exhaling into my belly button.
“I just want to see you,” he whispers. “That’s all.”
I try to sit up, but Oscar’s hand spans out against my belly.
“What’s making you nervous?” he asks. “Is it because you can’t see what I’m going to do?”
“No, it’s because I don’t know...” I can’t finish. Ugh. I hate that he asks these questions and expects me to answer out loud. I open and close my eyes under the comfortable darkness of the tie. “I don’t know if I look right.”
I squeeze my knees together against his chest and feel the rumble in his sternum as he laughs. He bends and plants a kiss on each of my thighs, which sets off atomic explosions all through me.
“Why would you think that?” he asks. His words vibrate through my kneecaps.
“I don’t know,” I say, grateful to be staring into the darkness of the tie, rather than his eyes. “It’s not like I’ve ever compared it. But you probably will.”
“Just let me look,” he says, spreading more kisses over my skin as he slides his arms along the sides of my thighs. He grasps the waistband of my shorts and eases them down, along with my panties, and finally slips both off my ankles.
“I want to stop,” I say. My legs, still hanging off the bed, begin to shake.
“We will,” he whispers. “I promise. Right after you show me.”
His hands are on my knees, moving them apart. I feel the coolness of the air, suddenly close against my skin, which is the very opposite of the warmth his reassuring kiss leaves on my legs. Spread before him, I hear his satisfied groan.
“You’re beautiful, Hale,” he says. His breath fans across my exposed body. “You’re absolutely perfect.”
“I want to stop,” I repeat, and the quiver from my legs is reflected in my throat.
“Alright,” Oscar says. “That’s all I wanted.”
He guides my feet back through the legs of my panties and shorts, and slides them up toward my knees. I pull them the rest of the way, as Oscar climbs onto the bed beside me. Once my shorts ar
e buttoned, he slips his fingers under the tie and slides it up, over my forehead.
I squint at his gentle smile. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his bare chest and tucking my head beneath his chin. I am grateful to nestle there, out of the direct line of his intense gaze.
“Thank you,” he mumbles into my hair, as he rubs my back. “Thank you for trusting me, Hale.”
I glance down at the ring on my finger, and think of how much more he’s expecting me to trust him, very, very soon.
CHAPTER TWELVE
OSCAR FINALLY LEAVES ME ALONE to talk on the phone. Probably because he knows I’m still feeling kind of embarrassed, and that I really need to confide in my best friend. He lay with me a while, until things started feeling back-to-normal again, but I know the only thing that will make it feel totally okay for me is to talk to her.
“Sher?” I say into the phone.
“How’s it going, Miss Fiancé?” she says, when she answers. “Is Ocker listening?”
“No,” I curl up on the poufy, circular chair near the window. “He’s downstairs, with his friends.”
“So what’s new?”
“He asked me to marry him for real, and he gave me a ring.”
“Get the fuck out of here!” Sher explodes into the phone. “What’s it look like? It’s a rock, isn’t it? Tell me exactly. I want every detail, from the ‘Will you’ to the ‘I do’. Ok—go.”
I recount what happened, and it’s way more exciting to say it out loud to Sher, especially when she’s cheering and shrieking at every word. I jump out of the chair, and hold up my ring to the last bit of daylight coming in through the window.
“You should see it, Sher. It’s incredible,” I say.
“Did you pick it out, or did he?”
“He did.”
“Oh. My. God!” she swoons. “Ocker sounds sooo perfect, Hale.”
Hearing her say it makes me smile. “You should see what he looks like.”
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