Pieces of Olivia (11 page)

Preston glanced down at me. “We can stop.”

“No.”

“Olivia, you don’t have to—”

I bit my lip, forcing myself to push away the fear and sadness and guilt that riddled my mind, and peered back at him. “I don’t want to take my shirt off.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

“And I don’t want you judging me because I don’t want to take my shirt off.”

“Okay,” he repeated. I felt his heart beat against my chest, fast and sure and strong. A part of me wanted to disappear, embarrassed and ashamed that I’d yet again shown Preston Riggs just how crazy I was deep inside. But another part, a greater part, felt a surge of happiness that he’d stayed. He knew that I was broken and scarred and more than a little crazy, yet still, he didn’t run. He stayed.

I pulled him back to me, overwhelmed by this new piece of information and the surge of emotions it evoked, and crushed my lips to his, unwilling to allow myself to run. His tongue ran over the seam of my mouth and slipped inside, taking ownership. I melted into him, savoring the feel of his body against mine, his lips on my cheek, my neck . . .
Oh God.

“Oh my God!”

Wait, had I said that out loud?

Preston jerked up, his eyes darting to the right. I followed his gaze and realized, with horror, that I hadn’t screamed after all.

Kara had.

Preston eased off me slowly and ran a hand through his hair. “Kar. Thanks for knocking.”

“Oh my God!”

“Yeah . . . you said that.”

I closed my eyes tightly and sat up, feeling more embarrassed than I ever had in my life. “Uh—it’s not— I mean, we’re not—”
Oh my God
was right. “I’ll just . . .” I shook my head, unsure about what I could say to make this better. “I’m . . .” I looked at Kara, whose eyes were on Preston, her expression lethal. “I’ll see you back at Liberty.”

“Wait, I’ll take you,” Preston said.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. “No, I drove Kara’s car over, so I’ll just . . .” I motioned at the door. “Unless you want it, Kara?”

“I’ll have him take me back. Rena just dropped me. I thought you might be here when you weren’t at the dorm, but I didn’t think . . . this.”

I cringed at the edge to her voice. Why was she so upset? I knew it was a surprise, which I would have expected, but anger? I opened my mouth to ask, but the tension in the air forced me to close it. I gave Preston one more fleeting glance before heading for the door. I closed it behind me and stood there, my head hung so low it was practically glued to my chest.

“Are you insane?” I could hear Kara yell at Preston through the door. “She’s my friend, Preston. My friend. Not some girl for you to dick over and leave. I can’t believe you did this.”

I heard Preston say something in reply, but he was more controlled than Kara, his voice lower.

“What does that even matter?” Kara retorted.

More mumbling from Preston.

“You think I care about that? I don’t. Because it’ll end the same way it always does, and Olivia isn’t just some random girl. She’s my roommate. My roommate! And even more than that, she’s my friend. The closest friend I’ve made since I got here, and now . . .” She trailed off, her voice rattling, and I gripped the door handle, wanting to tell her I would be her friend no matter what happened. I wouldn’t go psycho and make our friendship about Preston. I wasn’t one of those girls. I would never be one of those girls.

I heard Preston say something to her, and then Kara replied, her tone softer. I let go of the doorknob and started for her car. They would notice if headlights didn’t pass soon.

I drove the entire ride back to Liberty in silence to isolate myself. The radio turned off. My cell on vibrate. My thoughts were loud enough as it was. I didn’t want to stare at my phone like some pathetic girl, hoping and praying Preston would call. I trudged up to my dorm room and crashed onto my bed, barely slipping off my shoes, and then climbed under the covers. I tried to clear my thoughts enough to sleep. It was nearly two thirty in the morning. I needed to sleep. Just as I closed my eyes, I heard my door open.

“Olivia, are you up?” Kara whispered.

“No.” She sat down on the edge of my bed, and I peeked over at her. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. And I get it, I do. I just don’t want you to get hurt, and I don’t want . . . You’re a good friend. I don’t want . . .”

I sat up and hugged her. “We’re friends. Nothing with Preston is going to change that. Besides, we’re not together. Not at all. I don’t know what that was tonight, but it’s not going to happen again. We’re just friends.”

She let go and looked at me. “It didn’t look like you were just friends.”

My cheeks burned. “Yeah, I know. I blame Wolverine.”

She burst out laughing. “What?”

“We were watching
X-Men
, and Wolverine came on the screen, and my body just took over. I mean, it’s Wolverine.”

She laughed again. “You are so weird, but I love you. I’m glad you’re my roommate. And don’t get me wrong. I love Preston. He’s my best friend, but he doesn’t . . .”

“I know. He doesn’t do relationships.”

“I’ve tried, but he’s . . . What happened . . . he just can’t seem to move past it.”

My eyes rose to hers. “What happened? Can you say?”

She cleared her throat and looked away. “It isn’t my story to tell.”

I tilted my head at her words, wondering where I had heard them, and then the memory hit me. Preston. He had said those exact words to me in his truck when we were talking about his issue with relationships. I replayed the conversation, searching for the missing piece that would help it all make sense, but came up empty.

It isn’t my story to tell.
Then whose was it?

On Monday morning I made my way to Rose’s office, the box in one hand, a pack of cigarettes in the other. I had a feeling she would need to be bribed into going easy on me. Especially once I told her what happened Saturday night.

It was less than two weeks until Thanksgiving break, and my parents had called to tell me they would be spending the holiday at my sister Cameron’s house. I was welcomed to join, of course, but the thought of spending the holidays around my perfect sisters, who did exactly as they were told, made me want to disappear into my dorm and never emerge again. I thought longingly of the turkey I would miss and sighed. Oh well.

I started up the steps to Rose’s office and stopped cold at the sight of the person sitting in the rocker closest to the door. I took a step back, suddenly on uneasy ground. “What are you doing here?”

Preston pushed himself out of the rocker slowly, like he knew I was on the verge of running. This was my place, my safe place, and he was taking that away with each second that he stood there. He was wearing a wrinkled flannel shirt and jeans that were at least two days old, his hair in its normal disarray. “I was worried about you.”

“So you decided to come talk to my therapist?” I felt angry and hurt and betrayed. The one person who could break me, talking to the one person I’d trusted to put me back together.

At that moment, the weather door swung open and Rose stepped outside. “What’s—?”

“How could you?” I spit out at her.

She started toward me, her eyes darting between Preston and me, her mind putting the pieces together. “Calm down, Olive.”

“Olive?” Preston asked, glancing from Rose to me.

Sickness rumbled in my gut at the sound of the nickname coming out of Preston’s mouth. My past suddenly and painfully mixed with my present. It was unnatural. It was too much. I backed toward the sidewalk.

“Don’t go,” Preston said. “Please. I was just going to ask if you were okay, but I haven’t even gone inside. I’ve just been sitting here, thinking—waiting. She hasn’t told me anything. We’ve never even spoken. You can still trust her. This is still a safe place for you. I didn’t mean to . . . I’m sorry.” He glanced at Rose. “I’m sorry.” And then he walked down the steps and around me, leaving me alone with Rose.

My heart hit in my chest as I peered back at her. “Is that true?”

She lit the cigarette that was in her hand. “You think too highly of yourself. I couldn’t explain all that’s wrong with you if I tried.” I smiled at the insult. “You are my patient. I would never compromise your trust. I didn’t know he was out here, or I would have asked him politely to leave.”

“Really?” I edged toward the steps, craving the security of her office.

“Of course.” She held open the door and beckoned me inside. We settled into her office, the sweet smell of lemon greeting me from a new candle situated on her desk.

“New decoration?”

She grinned. “I’m told lemon is a happy smell, so I’m testing it this week during my sessions.” She hesitated, then added, “Now, are you going to tell me why he showed up here? You must know.”

I glanced out her large windows, watching as traffic zoomed by. “I guess he thinks I’m avoiding him. His calls and texts.”

“And are you?”

The truth was I hadn’t intended to ignore his calls or the texts that followed. I stared at his number, unsure of what to say if I answered beyond
hello
, and that wasn’t enough now. I thought of what I would say all of Sunday, but nothing seemed to work in my head. And then Monday came, and I decided to go to Rose, to seek her out for advice on what to say.

I told Rose all of this, expecting her to pop off one of her insults that keep me in line, but instead she sat back in her chair and shook her head.

“What?”

“If you aren’t ready to move on, then fine. If you are too scared to try your hand at life, then fine. But don’t bring this boy in if you aren’t ready to try. It isn’t fair to him.”

I laughed sarcastically. “Have you forgotten that he’s the one who refuses to have a relationship?”

“Yet, he’s having one with you.” I opened my mouth to argue, but Rose lifted her hand to stop me. “I understand that your experiences with one another began with friendship, but that doesn’t change the fact that you and Preston have been in a relationship for some months now. He cares about you. It’s written all over him, and he deserves for you to be straight with him.”

I stood up, growing more frustrated by the second. “I have been straight with him! I told him that I can’t do this, but he continues to—”

“He continues to or you do? You aren’t completely innocent here. I have heard Preston’s name countless times over the last few months. He hasn’t forced you into having feelings for him, and it isn’t his fault that you refuse to address them. You’re hiding in your safe zone, and I understand, but it’s time to try to live outside that zone, Olive.”

I stopped to look at her, angry and frustrated, but I knew she was right. I had kept Preston at arm’s length all semester, yet I pulled him in and allowed things to escalate.

I sat down on the sofa and began tapping the memory box softly. “So what do I do?”

“You tell me. What do you want to do?”

“I want Preston.”

“Then why are you still here?”

***

I raced out of Rose’s office and dialed Preston’s number, but he wasn’t answering. I checked my purse, and sure enough, I still had Kara’s spare set of keys. I quickly texted her to see if I could borrow her car, and then I was driving out to Preston’s apartment, unsure of what I would say when I got there. I just knew that I couldn’t go another second without seeing him.

I parked the car and peered up at his balcony. There were no lights on, no sounds coming out as I ascended the stairs. I wondered if he had gone to class or out for breakfast or went to do some other normal morning thing. A part of me hoped that he had, that I would knock on his door to find no one home. But that part was the weak Olivia, and I no longer wanted to be that girl. I wanted to be strong. I wanted to grow and learn and become better, and somehow I knew that change in me was because of Preston.

I knocked on the door to his apartment and waited, listening for movement. For several long seconds, there was nothing, and I questioned if I would have to brave this act twice, but then I heard footsteps closing in. I glimpsed quickly at the stairs. I could leave. I could tuck the risk away for a safer day. I stood there, contemplating every reason why I should leave and every reason why I should stay, and then the door creaked open and he was standing in front of me in all his perfect glory, the decision made before I had a chance to run.

Preston held the door open with one taut, outstretched arm, his other hanging at his side. My eyes roamed over him. To his wet hair. To his loose, worn jeans. To the waffle-knit tee that covered his body so precisely it was as though it were made just for him. And then finally to his eyes, so full of concern they took my breath away. “I shouldn’t have gone to Rose’s,” he said.

I opened my mouth, but closed it back, silenced by the feel of everything clicking into place in my mind. Preston Riggs cared. About me. Despite the scars. Despite the therapist. Despite whatever horror existed in his past. He cared.

“No, I’m sorry,” I said. “I overreacted.”

Preston considered me. “Do you want to come in?”

I looked past him into his apartment. Going in would change everything. “I . . . I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

“It’s okay to not know. We don’t have to know everything. Not today.”

My eyes fixed on his. “But you do? You know?”

“I know that I want you. And for now, that’s all that matters.”

His words washed over me, drowning my fear and leaving only one thought behind: he wasn’t nearly close enough to me.

I took one rushing step toward him, simultaneously wrapping my arms around his neck and crushing my lips to his. Preston gripped my hips, pulling me against him and walking us backward. He closed his apartment door and then separated from me, a crooked smile on his face. “Not the reaction I expected.” He kissed me again, nipping at my bottom lip with his teeth. “But I’m not complaining. So . . .”

I felt my heart clench as the word and its implications hovered between us, torn between longing to hear what he’d say next and dreading the words. Preston didn’t do serious, and I didn’t want us to be some fun, quick thing with him.

My eyes fixed on his, and I forced a playful smile to my face. “Please tell me we don’t have to do the definitions thing,” I said, though the words felt hollow to my ears. I’d rather not dissect what we were to each other. Not yet. Not when I wasn’t sure where he stood.

His lips quirked up in that way I loved. “Absolutely not,” he said, but his eyes said something more. Maybe, like me, he wanted us to be a
real
us. The thought caused a swarm of butterflies to flutter through my stomach. Us. I smiled.

“Good.” I pressed my lips to his neck, enjoying his taste and smell, before gently securing my mouth over his and pulling away. “Then I have to go. See you around.”

“Wha— You can’t go.”

I grinned, enjoying the disappointment on his face. “Oh, I can. I have a class in”—I checked my watch—“twenty minutes.”

He started toward me, a tiger on the prowl. “I bet I could convince you to stay.” His fingertips ran through my hair, tugging lightly on the ends to tip my head back. His head dipped toward mine, his lips a breath away, teasing me. My mind whirled at how natural it was to be like this with him now. And then I thought of Kara and her reaction to finding us together, and pulled away.

“Oh, you wouldn’t have to work very hard. But I do have a class, and . . .”

His eyebrows threaded together. “What is it?”

“I need to talk to Kara.”

***

I went on to my next two classes, my mind on Kara and what she would say. I had no idea what exactly Preston and I were to each other, and honestly, I didn’t want to know. A definition, a title, would only stir up feelings of fear for both of us, and for now I just wanted to enjoy being with someone again.

I texted Kara to meet me at Fresh Foods for lunch and then made my way there, repeating over and over in my head what I would say when I finally saw her.
So, you know how I said Preston and I were just friends? Yeah, well, we’re . . . well, I don’t really know, but something, and I thought you should know.
Ugh! I clenched my eyes shut at how stupid I sounded.
I
didn’t know what we were. How was I supposed to explain it to Kara?

I sighed heavily as I ventured inside, determined to get it over with quickly. She was already seated when I arrived, her books sprawled out and her elbows propped up on the table. She looked like she hadn’t slept, and guilt punched at my stomach when I realized I had no idea if she had.

“Hey . . .” I said. “You look—”

“Like shit. I know. I couldn’t sleep.”

I sat down across from her and reached for one of her French fries. “Wow. I didn’t even hear you up. Sorry. Were you studying?”

She closed her eyes tightly. “No, I was stalking Ethan’s FB and Twitter accounts.” She peeked over at me like she’d admitted to robbing a bank. “I’m officially the worst girlfriend in the world, but I can’t seem to stop myself!”

I thought of Preston and how I’d told her we were just friends. Clearly, I couldn’t stop myself either. “Well, what were you looking for?”

She sighed as she pushed around the food on her tray. “He’s mentioned this girl Anna a few times. It’s never a big deal, but I can tell by the way he talks about her that he likes her. Maybe not
likes her
likes her, but still . . .”

“Kara . . .”

“I know! I am such a bitch.” She dropped her head to the table.

Maybe now wasn’t the best time to bring up Preston.

“You’re not a bitch,” I said. “You’re just jealous. Okay, very jealous. I guess I’m just not seeing a reason for you to be. Ethan was awesome when he was here.”

“He is awesome. And his classes are insane. He’s an engineering major. But still, he takes the time to call every day to ask how my classes are going. It’s just . . .”

“Kara, can I ask you something without you getting mad?”

She looked up. “Yes.”

“Have
you
thought about cheating? Is that why you’re so worried about him?”

Her face paled, and I had my answer without her having to reply. “I wouldn’t. But there is this guy. Kalen. He’s nice and flirty and so unbelievably hot. I would never cheat, but . . .”

“You’ve thought about it.”

Her head returned to the table. “See? Such a bitch.”

“No, but I think you should talk to Ethan over Thanksgiving break and figure out what you want.”

Her head snapped up. “I completely forgot about the break. And it’s just next week!”

I nodded.

Kara seemed to be sorting through her thoughts, so I got up to get food, when she asked, “Are you going home for break?”

“No, my parents are going to San Francisco to spend Thanksgiving with my sister Cameron.”

Cameron was the eldest at twenty-eight, and then Lily, my other sister, was twenty-four. Cameron had studied law at Harvard, before meeting her husband, Greg, and stepping back while the kids were little. I didn’t blame her. Three kids was work enough. Lily was getting her masters at Yale after studying at Oxford for most of her senior year. Needless to say, my sisters were doing exactly what my parents wanted them to do, as though there was a standard operating procedure for college and adulthood and they had followed it to the letter.

Kara’s eyes lit up, bringing me back to the moment. “Oh! You’re so coming home with us then. My parents are going out of town, too, so I’m staying at Preston’s house and having Thanksgiving there. Ethan’s coming, too. It’ll be great!”

Five days with Preston. In his house. Meeting his parents. And Kara still didn’t know about us. Somehow
great
wasn’t the word I had in mind. “So, Kara, about Preston . . .”

She grinned. “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything about you two hooking up. I know it was only that once.”