by J. Saman
“Oliver—”
“Just smile. You look gorgeous. More than gorgeous. You’re a siren in this sea of boring. We’ve got this. Fun, remember? Try to relax and enjoy this for what it is.”
Right. Fun. Relax. I can do that. I never have before, but how hard can it be when faced with a room full of people who used to bully the hell out of me?
Oliver guides us through the room that looks more like a wedding than a reunion with the way it’d decorated. Lots of cream, silver, and red against the glow of twinkling lights and votive candles.
I ninja grip Oliver’s arm, all the while he nods hellos and heys to people we pass without stopping to talk to anyone. We reach the bar, and he orders a glass of champagne for me and bourbon for himself. I don’t argue with his choice. I barely ever drink, so champagne is not only a treat but also probably a hell of a lot safer than hard alcohol.
“A little liquid courage,” he offers, handing me the flute filled to the brim with golden bubbly liquid. He holds up his glass. “To a night of unexpected turns.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
“Good. Because here comes the circus.”
3
AMELIA
When Oliver said circus, he wasn’t kidding. By the time I finished half my glass of champagne, we were nearly surrounded. Everyone wanted their shot with Oliver. The king of our high school. The celebrity if for no other reason than his family’s wealth. I teased him quickly about being an influencer and he simply rolled his eyes, but it’s true.
If one of the Fritzes is photographed wearing something, by the end of the week, every male in the city is. The women they date get their fifteen minutes of fame and bragging rights to their friends. It’s a Boston condition, but I know their faces reach national status. I saw Oliver’s eldest brother, Kaplan, in a copy of People Magazine once and I’m pretty sure Oliver himself has been in some national tabloids too.
Oliver doesn’t let me get far. Instead, he holds me close, introducing me to everyone as if I never went to high school with them while he toys with the bare skin of my back, eliciting uncontrollable shudders and chills with every pass. The looks I get are something else. Women want to talk to me, like somehow Oliver will rub off me and onto them. They want to know where I got my dress. Who did my hair?
I had to laugh at both of those.
But their eyes are filled with envy and awe and yes, there are still some sneers, but it’s nothing like Christa. Not even close. There is reverence and respect and while that should never come from being on a man’s arm, right now, I’m still riding my who cares high. I’m not seen as charity case Amelia Bedelia. I’m seen as me, Amelia Atkins. My opinions listened to, my presence valued instead of teased.
Finally, after what feels like hours though I know it was only about one, it’s just us with Oliver’s best friend Grace and her fiancé Tony. Grace Hammond and I were mathletes together. She was an academic nerd in high school but floated in her own world with lots of friends, the best of which was Oliver. Girls were jealous of her like mad because of it. She’s smart. Beautiful. Funny.
And had the devoted attention of Oliver.
Still does, by the way they hug and instantly start in with the automatic teasing. We’re lingering by the bar, my new favorite place to be since I’m now officially on my second glass of champagne. The first having gone down so quickly and so smoothly, I hardly noticed. Grace is wonderful, so much fun to catch up with. That is until Oliver takes my hand—the one boasting the ring—and kisses it, making sure Grace and her fiancé Tony notice it.
Tony snickers, covering his holy shit laugh with a fake cough and a long sip of his drink.
Grace, on the other hand, looks like someone electrocuted her, complete with eyes bugging out of her head. “Oliver?”
That’s as far as she gets.
The others who saw the ring oohed and ahhed. Grace looks like she’s about to pass out. In a good way, I think.
“As my lifelong best friend, Grace, it means so much to me that you and my stunning fiancée have grown so close. I know in the past, my significant others have tried to throw you off the pedestal I hold you on, but not this one. She is perfect, wouldn’t you agree?”
Another kiss on my knuckles.
I open my mouth to say… something, only to realize I have absolutely nothing to say. All I can do is offer her an awkward grin and sheepish half-shrug. What felt so crazy and spontaneous out in the hall and with all those other people now feels ridiculous.
I must look ridiculous to her.
Grace’s eyes volley back and forth between us before holding Oliver’s gaze for a very long few moments. Some sort of nonverbal conversation passes between them before a delighted smile breaks free across her face, her blue eyes glimmering.
“Oh, Oliver. You have no idea how happy I’ve been since you decided to settle down with Amelia. You’re right, she is absolutely perfect.”
“Um… but…”
Then she grabs me, hauling me into her chest and making me nearly spill my champagne all over her designer dress. “Don’t fret, darling,” she whispers in my ear. “He’s a cocky bastard, but he has a heart of gold. I don’t know what game he’s playing, but I’m loving the hell out of it.”
“You know it’s fake, right?”
“A best friend can dream, Amelia. Let’s not ruin that. Besides, it’ll be fun to watch the expression on psycho Nora’s face. She’s been asking about him all night. And for real, I’ve been dying to watch that albatross she likes to keep around his neck get lost in the ocean of I’ve found someone way better than you. Fake or no, that’s you.” She pulls back, winking at me. “Cheers. Now drink up. You’re going to need it to get through this shitshow.”
Ain’t that the truth. We clink glasses and I down the rest of my drink, loving how the flavor and bubbles explode in my mouth. A delicious little buzz plays with me, tilting a lazy smile up my lips.
“Here.” Oliver hands me another glass, and I eye it warily before glancing up at him.
“You’re trying to get me drunk,” I accuse.
He chuckles. “I’m trying to get you to let your guard down. You’re still very stiff.” His eyes soften as they take me in. “You don’t have to worry. I’ve got you tonight and I won’t let anything bad happen. Promise. Just enjoy yourself. Enjoy being with me. This was meant to be fun.”
“Do you know I legit cannot remember the last time I had fun? Like real, I’m only twenty-eight years old, fun?”
“That’s insanely tragic. We’re changing that up right now. Drink and dote on me. That’s fun, right?”
I laugh, already feeling a little lighter.
His thumb brushes along my cheek as I stare up at him. Marveling at how his simple touch breathes life into places that have been dormant so long, I wondered if they were extinct. Green eyes gaze into mine, a captivating kaleidoscope of shades I swear I could get lost in. And you know, Oliver is right. Tonight was supposed to be fun for me. All of this was.
“I’ve got this now,” I tell him. I might also be a bit drunk, so that helps. I take a hearty gulp, loving the warm tingles as they flow through my veins, my mind growing light and giddy with every beat of my heart.
“That’s my girl. How about we go and—”
“Oliver?” an impatient voice snaps behind us, interrupting him.
Grace mutters something under her breath that I don’t catch, and beside me, Oliver stiffens. Both he and I turn, coming face to face with Nora, who is standing alone, looking polished, gorgeous, and brilliantly flustered. Oliver’s arm wraps around my waist, his hand clutching my hip. Nora’s eyes zero in on the action, clinging to his hand as her cheeks flush and her lips purse.
Placing a hand on her small but obviously round belly, she forces her gaze back up to his. “It’s nice to see you. It’s been such a long time.” She gives him a lingering look. “You look wonderful. Better than ever.”
Oliver rolls his eyes, but I don’t catch any anger behind it.
“Thanks,” he mutters dryly.
He moves to turn back around to Grace when Nora makes some sort of clicking sound in the back of her throat, stopping him. Her eyes caustically dance back and forth between us, then back down to his hand still on my waist.
“Christa texted that you’re here with her, but I didn’t believe it. Then Trisha Jordan said you were in love, but I knew that couldn’t be true.” She glares at me with ice-blue eyes before immediately returning to Oliver.
“You should have believed it,” Oliver states without even a hint of an edge, though a subtle smirk bounces up the corner of his mouth. “I am most certainly here with Amelia and yes, I love her.”
Sipping his drink, he twists to face me. His fingers abandon my hip and find the hand with the ring. The ring that at one time had been meant for Nora. Oliver toys with my finger, rolling his large diamond back and forth, but not saying anything else as he continues to smirk at me with a bemused expression.
“Is she still there or did she leave yet?” he whispers to me out of the corner of his mouth, and I can’t help my giggle.
Nora gasps shrilly. Then two other people sitting at a nearby table do as well. They start to whisper and instead of being nervous or afraid of what they’re saying, I’m smiling stupidly up at Oliver.
“She’s still there,” I inform him.
“Dammit. I was hoping she would take the hint and go.”
“Oliver,” Nora hisses. “You can’t be serious.”
He shrugs, but I swear a sparkle hits his eyes as he says, “What can I say? When you know, you know.”
Nora scoffs derisively. Loud and harsh. “You mean with charity case Amelia Bedelia? You cannot be serious,” she repeats, her voice rising as she slams her hand on top of a cocktail table, rattling some of the half-empty glasses abandoned on it. “Look at her.” Her hand shoots out in my direction, dismissively waving up and down. “She’s a mess in ragtag clothes and frizzy hair with too many freckles on her face. Can’t you see someone like her is just using you for your money and fame.”
Oliver’s spine goes ramrod straight. His fingers clench around mine, squeezing me as fury blazes a path across his face. But before he can verbally eviscerate Nora, I do.
I meet Nora’s gaze head on. “You’d think that, right? That I’m using him? I mean, the girl you just described was exactly who I was in high school. The janitor’s daughter on a scholarship wearing a second-hand uniform. Well, the dress is still second-hand. But who knew a little hair product could make you go from frizzy to fabulous?” I wink at her, which only seems to boil her blood further. “I’ll be honest with you. At first, I never thought Oliver and I would work. Our differences are so great. Then I slept with him. Even though I told him we were just friends, and it was only one night, the man pursued me like a hunter pursues his prey. Relentlessly.”
She squints at me, looking like she just swallowed a bug.
“I couldn’t deny him,” I go on. “I was just as crazy about him as he was about me. And keeping my hands to myself where he was concerned?” I shake my head, laughing sardonically. “Pfft. Totally impossible. The man seriously knows what he’s doing in bed, though I suppose I don’t have to tell you that.”
Nora grits her teeth, her complexion turning redder by the minute. She clutches the end of the table she’s practically leaning against.
“Anyway, it wasn’t long before we became something so much more and I couldn’t let him go. Now we’re addicted to each other. Completely head over heels in love.” I turn to meet Oliver’s eyes, noting the small crowd around us as we hover by the bar. “We just clicked so perfectly. Right, Oli?”
“Definitely,” Oliver agrees, his darkening eyes roving all over me. “Totally addicted. So in love. In fact, right now, I’d like nothing more than to drag your gorgeous ass into one of the rooms upstairs in this hotel and show you just how grateful I am for you.”
My tongue thickens in my mouth, making it impossible to swallow.
He must read this because he grins, dipping into my neck and asking my flesh, “Later then?”
“Um. Sure. Later.” My empty core clenches in staggering disagreement with not jumping him here and now, while my brain reminds me he’s just playing a part. That none of this is real.
Oliver grins, pressing his lips into my neck, trailing up along my jaw until he finds the corner of my lips. My knees buckle on cue, and I audibly sigh. In fairness, I haven’t been touched by a man who knew what a clitoris was and where it was located in eight years. He hasn’t even gone near my pussy, but his voice and words certainly have with surprising precision.
I clear my throat, turning back to the woman who no longer has color in her face. I smile endearingly. “I hear you’re married to Rob. And expecting. Congrats. How lovely.”
“Oh. Yes. I am.” She recovers quickly. Her hand rubs along her belly as she glances somewhere out in the fray in the direction of her husband, I presume. “I called Oliver to tell him the good news.” Her gaze snaps back to mine. “You know, so he wouldn’t have to hear something that might be painful for him from anyone else.”
My eyebrows become one as I tilt my head in mock contemplation. “It’s sweet that you were worried about him like that, but if memory serves, he saw your number and figured it was spam.”
Nora gasps, her hand clutching her chest. “Spam?”
“Spam,” I confirm to her before looking back to Oliver, who is pressing his lower back into the edge of the bar as he leans casually against it like all he’s missing right now is some popcorn while he watches the show I’m putting on. “But I’m sure you would have called her back to congratulate her if you had listened to the entire message before deleting it?”
Oliver shrugs indifferently. “Probably not. As you know, that ship sailed a long time ago.”
Grace snickers, trying to mask it as a cough and Oliver lets out a small half-chuckle with it, the two of them exchanging looks I can’t decipher.
“So, this is for real?” Nora asks, her lips curled in dissatisfaction. Possibly a touch of jealousy and heartache too.
Oliver grasps my jaw in his hand, holding my face, so we’re staring into each other’s eyes. He tugs me closer to him, my body angling against his. My heart that had been lazily beating in my chest thanks to the champagne kicks back up into high gear.
“Definitely real.”
“So real.”
He grins. “The realest.”
“That’s not a word.”
“Run with it, Red Hot.”
My head launches back in a laugh. “Red Hot?”
“Sexy. Hot. Spicy. A fiery temptation. Am I missing something here?”
“Oliver.” Nora stomps her red-soled heel, pounding on that table again, this time succeeding in knocking over a few glasses that were thankfully empty. “You can’t do this with her. That’s your great-grandmother’s ring.”
Oh shit. His great-grandmother’s ring?
He must read the shock on my face because suddenly his lips hit mine. Not a kiss. Not quite that. But a press. A definite press. “Relax. It’s not a thing,” he murmurs into my ear so only I can hear.
“But Oliver—”
“Relax,” he repeats, and right. Fake. It’s not like he actually gave me his great-grandmother’s ring for real. “And it fits her perfectly,” he says louder for everyone to hear. That’s when Nora storms off, nearly smashing into the table of people who were blatantly listening while trying to pretend they weren’t directly behind her.
But by now, we’ve drawn a bigger crowd. All eyes are situated right on us and it’s weird that I’m not freaking out about that. Especially considering about eighty percent of those people made fun of me growing up. But instead of having a panic attack or even being worried about potential nasty comments like the ones Nora and Christa made, I feel oddly empowered. Brave.
It’s like I’m having some sort of out-of-body experience. It’s the ring, I think. I’m like the Green Lantern from the comics with
his magic ring. I’m transformed into someone else completely. Someone who isn’t worried about every small detail. Who isn’t stressing out about absolutely everything.
The champagne might be helping that along as well.
The next song starts and Oliver squints down at me. “Dance with me, beautiful?”
He doesn’t give me the choice. Both of our glasses are set down on the bar he was leaning against, and he takes my hand, intertwining our fingers. He mutters something to Grace and Tony and then leads us straight to the middle of the dance floor.
Lifting our joined hands over my head, he twirls me in a circle before settling me right in against his chest. I snake my hands around his neck just as his find the line between my bare back and my dress—his favorite spot to play for most of the night—and everything about this feels like a dream. Like any second, I’ll wake up and be so disappointed that none of it was real.
“I have no idea what I just said back there,” I tell him.
He laughs lightly, pressing me in closer. So close we’re touching. My soft breasts to his muscled chest and my heart flutters with anticipation at the idea of us like this without the barrier of our clothes.
“You were brilliant,” he says. “You basically told Nora I’m a sex god and that you couldn’t keep your hands off me and that we’re crazy about each other. Half the room, I believe heard you as well. It took everything in me not to laugh my ass off.”
“Oh god.” My face plants into his chest and when did I become comfortable enough with this man to do all these things? His lips have touched mine. His hands have been all over me. His eyes too. “I don’t even know who I am right now.”
And that’s the God’s honest truth.
“You’re a breath of fresh air, is what you are. I have to admit, I was nervous about seeing Nora for the first time after all these years. But having you with me, I didn’t care about her or anyone else. Listening to you tell her all those things, it was… fun almost. Just watching you was so much fun.”
“It was fun. Kind of crazy and definitely out of character for me, but fun. What kind of woman am I right now?”