Confessions of a Virgin Sex Columnist! (22 page)

"I never forgot," I whisper, voice raw. How could he think I forgot? For four years, I tried everything I could to push Ollie from my mind. And for four years, I've been able to think of nothing else, no one else. Even when I was with John, it was Oliver who burned in the back of my mind.

Ollie steps closer, still not touching me, but my awareness of him feels like a soft caress, stirring every part of me, zapping my every nerve to life. Our bodies are only an inch apart and palpable energy electrifies the small space. Still though, I make no move to close it.

"Me neither," he says, and his voice brushes warm against my cheek, pulling me closer. "Which is why I came to New York when a job became available. I wanted to see you. And I never meant to show up so unannounced, but when you came in that day, speaking to me like nothing had ever changed, I knew you thought I was Bridge but I didn’t care. For a moment, I got an idea of what we could be. But I didn’t know if you felt the same way. And I waited, sending you signals, trying to read the look in your eyes. But I couldn’t. And then I kissed you, and you ran away, which was a pretty obvious sign that I should bow out. But I couldn't do that either. So that brings us to tonight, to right now."

Ollie brushes his fingers across my cheek, trailing them around my neck, back into my hair. I look up, swallowing as my eyes meet his smoldering gaze, but the words are still trapped beneath my tongue. A shy smile plays on his lips.

"I'm in love with you, Skylar Quinn," he whispers, leaning down so our foreheads touch and our lips rest a tantalizing inch apart. "And I couldn't give up without making sure you knew exactly how I felt. I'm in love with you. Now it's up to you to decide what happens next."

I can't breathe. Can't think.

Oliver McDonough is in love with me.

I've waited my entire life to hear those words. And still, after so much time, I have no idea what to say.

So I don't speak.

I lean up and kiss him instead.

And just like four and a half years ago, the fire sparking between us flares to an inferno in an instant. Ollie kisses me back and before I know what's happening, I'm in too deep. My hands slip into his hair. His arms hug me tight, lifting me onto my toes. We're both hungry after waiting so long.

But there's something else. Something wrong. A prickly sensation in my chest that even the flames won't burn out.

I try to ignore it. I want to. But I can't.

And really, I've been ignoring my gut for too long already.

I break away, ripping myself free of Ollie's embrace, turning my back on him, breathing heavily as I bend over my stomach, eyes on the ground, trying to fight the dizzy spell threatening to overwhelm me. And I realize my eyes have started to burn.

All of my dreams are coming true.

So why am I crying?

"Skye?" Ollie's voice is deep and dark.

But I can't look at him.

"Skye, what's wrong? What happened?" And the vulnerability in his tone just brings me back to the moment four years ago when I asked him nearly the same thing.

"I don't know," I whisper, voice trembling. My entire body is shaking. "This is all happening too fast."

He puts a hand on my arm, but I don't spin around. "We can take things slow, Skye. I don't care about that."

And with those softly spoken words, I do turn. I meet his confused gaze. "Not that," I murmur, shaking my head. "This. Us. It's happening too fast. I was in love with you for most of my life, and then I spent four years trying to stop being in love with you. And now here you are, telling me all the things I always wanted to hear, and it's happening too fast. I just—I'm just…"

I shake my head, trailing off, unsure.

"You're just what?" Ollie asks, stepping back. And I can't help but notice how cloudy his teal eyes have become, how dark, how lonely.

"I'm waiting for the ball to drop," I admit quietly.

He recoils. "What the hell does that mean?"

I take a deep breath. What do I mean? Why am I doing this—do I really want to break my own heart? But as much as I want to reach up and kiss him and make this knot in my throat disappear, I don't think I can. "It means," I say slowly, only understanding the words once I speak them aloud. They're not coming from my thoughts—they're coming straight from my soul. Brutally honest. I try again. "It means that this happened four years ago. I thought I was about to get everything I ever wanted, and then just as quickly, it was all gone and I was left empty. Even though you're saying all of these things, I'm just waiting for something to happen that will take them all away. I'm not sure if I believe that you and me are possible. We're more like a dream, and eventually I'll have to wake up and realize I never had you in the first place."

Ollie's face is stone, not moving as I speak. His brows twitch once and I wonder what he's hiding from me. "So you're saying you don't even want to try?"

I shake my head, because hearing those words from him sends a splintering crack down the center of my heart. "No, I don't know what I'm saying. I just, I feel like I can get my heart broken now. Or we can try and then when it all falls apart, it'll just be that much harder for me to put myself back together again."

He steps closer, touching the tip of my chin with his fingers, urging me to look up. "But what if we try and we make it. What then? We both get everything we ever wanted."

But I don't say anything.

I don't know what to say, because I've been hurt by Ollie before in a way I never dreamed possible. And I don’t know if I can see past that, past the pain.

He drops his hand and steps back, squinting. "Do you trust me, Skye?"

"Ollie…" I trail off, looking away, self-conscious.

"It's an easy question, do you trust me?"

But it's not easy. Not really. I trust him with my life. I trust him to protect me, to keep me safe. I trust him as a friend. I trust him to want what's best for me, to care about me. I trust him in so many ways, in every way but one. But for the purposes of this conversation, there's only one way that really matters.

Do I trust him with my heart?

"No," I whisper.

For a moment, I think he doesn’t hear me and I can't say it again. But a shudder passes through his body, a pulse of utter defeat, and he sags. I can't look up from the floor as he stares at me, waiting for something more, for something else. But I don't give it to him. After a few moments of quiet, he slips past me. Each step echoes in my ears, louder than the last. But I'm stuck, immobile. The creak of the apartment door slipping open sounds as loud as lightning, but it’s the click of it shutting closed that hits my heart like thunder, booming, impenetrable, rumbling on and on without end.

And then it passes, leaving me totally and utterly empty, swept away in the winds and unsure where I've been stranded.

All I'm left with is one single thought.

One question.

Is this how Ollie felt four and a half years ago when I was the one walking away?

I can finally admit it. I'm in love with Oliver McDonough. I never stopped loving Oliver McDonough. And it terrifies me, more than I think I ever realized. But there's one thing that scares me more, one thing that sends a horrifying chill to my core. And it's the idea that I might regret this moment for the rest of my life, that I'll look back and forever wonder what if.

I'm on my knees and I'm not sure how I got here or when or how much time has passed since Ollie left the apartment. It feels like hours. But I can't imagine it's been more than a minute. And the longer I stare into the candle flames flickering around me, the more I wonder just what the hell I'm doing.

Ollie said he loves me.

And even though I didn't say it out loud, I know I love him. I've known it for a while. I never stopped loving him.

So again, I repeat, what the hell am I doing?

I stand, taking another look at the rose petals scattered along the floor, the candles delicately placed all around the room. I remember Ollie, who fell asleep on the couch waiting with blind faith for someone who might never come. And maybe it’s the romance decorating the room around me, or maybe it's the fact that I finally said all the things I'd waited so long to say, or maybe it's just the fact that I know if I don't do something now I'll never have the chance again, but I think of Ollie and I let go of the fear.

I dive off the cliff.

I free fall.

And though I just said I didn't trust him with my heart, everything changes in an instant. Because I've finally admitted the truth to myself. I'm finally being honest. Deep down, I believe in him. In us. Part of me always has, the part that never stopped hoping. The part that's always been falling, that's always been waiting and trusting that Ollie will be there to catch me.

"Ollie," I whisper.

Then I turn to the door. I scream. "Ollie!"

And then I run.

No shoes. No coat. No purse. Nothing.

There's no time to waste and my head can only think of one thing—finding him. So I race out the door, into the empty hallway, and I fly as fast as I can to the elevator.

"Ollie!" I shout again once the doors open to the lobby, but he's not here. So I rip open the front door, ignoring the cold, ignoring the ice that shoots through my stockings and into my toes as my feet fly over frozen pavement. It's snowing and it's January and I'm wearing a short sequin dress, tights, and nothing else—but I really don’t care. Frostbite be damned. I'm in love. I'm not afraid anymore. And you know what? A little cold is worth it if it means at the end of the night, Ollie might be the one to keep me warm.

"Ollie!" I yell into the vast open sky.

And then I see a figure pause at the end of the street and I know it's him.

"Ollie," I say again, softer this time, more a sigh of relief, a push to keep going.

But when I close the distance, when I'm a foot away, I stop and stare at his back, unsure of what to say. He hasn't turned around. He's waiting.

My whole body is shivering. My teeth chatter and I hug my arms around my midsection, trying to hold in a little shred of heat. So I totally blame the cold for what I say next, for the slight stall, and don't at all blame any lingering doubts or fears clogging my throat. "I broke up with Patrick tonight."

Silence.

Flurries fall in front of my face, like the tick of a clock reminding me that time is indeed still trudging forward.

"When?" Ollie asks, still not looking around, still facing the opposite direction.

"Before I came home, after the New Year's party. We went back to his apartment, and I thought something else was going to happen, but then I broke up with him instead, surprising us both I think."

"Why?" he says, even quieter this time.

I lick my lips, breathing, watching the puffs of air flutter white before my lips, before evaporating into the black night. "I wasn't in love with him."

Ollie still doesn't move.

But I can't say this to the back of his wool coat. I need to see him. I need to look him in the eyes to know he hears me. So I reach out, slipping my fingers into his, and at my touch, he finally turns around, hope a fire in his crystal eyes.

"I love you, Ollie." His fingers tighten, but that's the only move he makes. So I do the only thing I know how to do when my nerves are at an uncontrollable level—I babble. "I love you, Ollie, and I'm sorry, so sorry I didn't say it before. Because obviously I love you, I never stopped loving you, even when I hated you. And believe me, I did hate you for a while there. But, I mean, let's not focus on that. Because you, me, we have another chance now, and I really don't think we should give it up. Not over a little thing like my being insanely stupid and not telling you this five minutes ago, because I'm here now, in below zero temperatures I might add, telling you I believe in us and I trust you and I want to give us a chance. We need to. Or, I don't know, we'll both—"

"Skye?" he says.

"Yeah?" I look up from the spot my eyes have found in the center of his chest to see Ollie is grinning widely, silently laughing with his eyes.

"Stop talking."

And then he takes my cheeks in both hands and kisses me. His lips are soft, almost hesitant. This is unknown territory for us, an honest space we've never been before. And I kiss him back, just as gentle, just as slow, exploring this new sensation gathering beneath my skin. For the first time with Ollie, our kisses don’t feel desperate or urgent, they feel tantalizingly untouched by time.

And though I don't want to stop, my toes are growing a little numb and I'm so cold that it's getting hard to move my lips without feeling somewhat like a fish.

"Ollie," I whisper.

"Hmm," he sighs against my mouth.

"I'm not wearing shoes," I murmur and he breaks away, eyes wide as they focus on the ground. "And, I'm sort of not wearing a coat either."

Ollie just shakes his head, lifting the corner of his lip. "So this is what I signed up for?"

I shrug, biting back a smile. "Guess so."

And before I can move, Ollie sweeps me quite literally off my feet, lifting me effortlessly into his arms. And you know what? It's not too shabby of a place to be. I curl into his chest as he walks us back inside. I don't even protest when he makes no move to put me down as we make our way into the elevator. Because his chest is warm and his muscles are firm beneath me, and my hands are too busy tracing lines across his chest, up his neck, across his face. I can't concentrate on anything else.

He doesn't put me down until we're back in the warmth of the apartment. We don't speak. Ollie slips his coat to the ground, and then his lips are back on mine and I don't want to think about anything else.

But because I'm crazy, obviously that doesn't happen.

A nagging sensation paws at the back of my mind and I can't help but notice how precariously close his coat landed to a candle. It isn't long before visions of a fire fill my brain, and really, that's the last thing I want to be thinking about right now.

Ollie stops moving. "Skye?" he groans.

"I'm good, I'm good." I shake my head.

He pulls back, eyebrows raised. "What?"

I bite my lip. "Nothing, it’s just…" My eyes flick to the coat. He follows, expression growing more amused. "It's just, it's close to the flames and really the candles are a fire hazard and—"

Ollie puts his finger over my lips. "You're probably the only girl in the world who doesn’t find this romantic."

"I do," I mutter against his skin, voice muffled. "It's super romantic. It's just super dangerous too."

He shakes his head. "That's just part of why I love you."

And then he steps away, circling the room to blow out each and every candle in the space. The space grows darker around me until only a sliver of silvery light remains—moonlight trickling in from the window. Somehow, it seems even more romantic to me.

"Anything else on your mind?" he whispers, stepping closer.

I shake my head, pursing my lips.

"Are the rose petals a tripping hazard?"

"No," I murmur.

"Is the room too hot?"

"No…"

"Too cold?"

"No…"

"Are you at all hungry?"

And now I know he's just completely making fun of me. So I don't give him the satisfaction of a response. I just reach out, grab a fistful of his shirt, and tug. It's a pretty effective way of getting him to shut up, and I smile against his lips, knowing this is probably the first time of many that I'll use the move against him.

But really, we're both winners here.

And the longer the kiss lasts, the more my mind finally shuts off. The passion that's always burned between us is still there, but for the first time, I don’t feel swept away and out of control. I ride it. And all that does is make the fire beneath my skin flare hotter.

Ollie's lips slip from mine, kissing their way across my cheek, down my neck. His fingers trail the path of my spine, slipping lower and lower, pausing at my hips to hold me closer, and then sinking to the edge of my dress. Mine slip beneath the folds of his T-shirt, finding the smooth skin of his abdomen, tracing the contours of his muscles, enjoying the way they constrict as I feel my way up his chest.

Both of our breaths turn ragged. But we don't speed up, if anything we just move slower, enjoying the fact that we have all the time in the world. Our hands explore first, then our lips. Ollie sighs and whispers my name. His love is a physical force, washing over me, cocooning me. And I realize, I've spent my entire life waiting. I don't want to wait any longer.

He senses the change. An electric snap heats the air around us. Suddenly his hands grip my waist, lifting me, and my legs wrap around him. And we’re moving, but I don't break the kiss to see where. Because I know. And there's no part of my heart or my body that has the will or the desire to say no.