Pay no attention to the dates. I messed up. All should be well, now ^^;
I have such a love-hate relationship with romance. The genre itself isn’t my favorite, but cute romantic sub-plots are my jams. Whether I can right them well remains to be seen. You be the judge. 🙂
With our ice cream eaten, Oliver and I insist on washing the bowl. Mrs. O’Brian says she’ll take me home once we’re done since she has a few errands to run around town. Oliver’s on drying duty, so I go to the piano room once I’m done washing them to get my purse. I sit down for a moment, since no one’s in a rush, and plunk out a few notes.
“Do you play at all?” Oliver asks from the door.
I glance at him for a moment, then look back down at the keys. “Nah. I took lessons in elementary school, but I hated it. Looking back, I wish my parents had forced me to stick with it.”
Oliver comes and stands next to me. “I could teach you a few things if you want.”
“Like how it all starts with how you hold your hands.” He wraps his arms around me and takes my hands in his to gently curve my wrists and spread my fingers, sending a chill up my arm. “See? Much better.”
His skin is cool to the touch, but comfortably so, like a breeze on a hot day. He doesn’t move his hands for whatever reason, so the chill he started stays, bringing with it a million other racing thoughts. Do my fingers feel fat? He’s leaning against me. My back probably feels flabby. I need to add strength training to my routine. Why is he okay with touching me? Don’t I feel gross to him?
He feels wonderful to me. Like I fit perfectly in his arms. Maybe if I turn around and look at him, he’ll–
The back of my head collides with Oliver’s face as I jump up from the bench. He staggers away, swearing and holding his mouth.
“Oh, my god, I am so sorry,” I exclaim. “I just…I don’t know. I’m sorry, Oliver. Is there anything I can do?”
“Give me a warning next time?”
I can see the wry smile between his fingers. At least he’s not angry.
“I really am sorry. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. And I should apologize too. I should have asked before getting in your personal space.”
“No, it was me. It’s just…” I catch the rest of the words before they tumble out.
You make me nervous in the best way possible.
That doesn’t even make sense. God, I’m such an idiot.
The jingle of keys gives us a warning to collect ourselves before his mother walks into the door way. “Ready to go?” She studies us for a moment and her brow furrows. “Everything okay?”
Oliver pulls his hands from his mouth and slips them into his pockets. “Everything’s fine, Mom.”
“If you’re sure.” Her words trail off like she’s not convinced. “Did you want to come with us?”
“No, I’ll hang back.”
I gather my purse, avoid Oliver’s eyes, and scurry out of the room. “See you at school. Think we can practice tomorrow?”
Strange new weirdness or not, I want to do something with this song. I just need to be more careful.
“I’ve got a gender therapy appointment tomorrow. Tuesday?”
Well. That little conversation certainly made everything seem fine.