Текст книги "The Opportunist"

Автор книги: Tarryn Fisher

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

He shrugs. “Her—you. It was very sweet.”

I blush.

 We climb into his car and ease onto the highway. I count the streetlights tying to think of a way to steer him away from Leah.

When we pull off at his exit, I am swearing under my breath. We are blocks away from his high-rise and if I don't want to be caught. I have to do something—and fast.

“Can you pull over?”

“What? Are you sick?”  I shake my head as he steers us into a shopping plaza.  “Olivia?”

We are parked helter-skelter in a Wendy’s parking lot, and I am inappropriately thinking about a Frosty. Then I get an idea.

“Can we go camping? To that place you saw in that magazine?”

After we get a Frosty? I add in my head.

Caleb’s brow furrows and I wither in my seat. He is going to say no, tell me I am weird and crazy.

“Please,” I say closing my eyes, “I just want to be far, far away…” from Leah and the truth.

“It’s an eight hour drive. Are you sure you want to do that?”

My eyes snap open and I nod fiercely.

“I can take some time off of work. We can buy what we need when we get there. Let‘s just go…please.”

He is rolling things over in his mind, I can see it in the slow movement of his eyes-he looks at his hands, at me, at the steering wheel, and then he nods.

“Okay. If that’s what you want...”

I send my deepest thanks to God and smile.

“I do. Thank you. Let’s go now, right now.”

“Now? Really without anything?”

“Well, I don’t have anything to take anyway. You saw my closet. Let’s just make it an adventure.”

Caleb turns the car around and I lean back in my seat wanting to cry.  A little while longer—please God, just give me a little more time.

The highway spreads out like licorice before us. Caleb opens the windows allowing the wind to rush in, frisking us with her fingers. We are leaving Florida. Leaving my vandalized home and leaving Caleb’s vindictive lover. I am safe…for now.

“Caleb?” I reach out and touch his arm. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he says softly, “this is for both of us.”

“Okay,” I say, though I have no idea what he means. “Hey, can we stop and get a Frosty?”

We drive the eight hour trip to Georgia in seven.  For most of the trip, we remain in a comfortable quiet. I fret over Leah and the mess I left behind in my apartment. I take to biting my nails but Caleb keeps swatting my hands away from my mouth. I look for something to harp at him about, some bad habit or annoying vice but he is all smooth edges.

I fall asleep and when I wake up Caleb is gone.  I lift my head to peer out of the window and see that we are at a rest stop. I snuggle back down and wait for him to come back. I hear him coming, walking in a quickstep along the asphalt. He takes care to be as quiet as possible with the door and keys, so as not to wake me. He doesn’t start the car right away and I can feel his eyes on my face. I wait, wondering if he will wake me up to ask if I need to use the restroom. He doesn’t. Eventually the engine hums to life and I feel his hand shifting the gears near my knees.

We arrive at Quiet Waters Park, just as the pink tinged sun is lifting herself out of her slumber. The trees are wearing their fall coats, clashing oranges, reds, and yellows. We bump roughly on the gravel as he steers us toward the park entrance. I feel the full skosh of my deceit when I see the park—just as it was the last time we were here. I wonder in dismay if someone will recognize me from our last trip and dismiss the idea as absurd. The last time we were here was three years ago and the chances that the same employees would still be manning the campsite is silly, not to mention the fact that they saw hundreds of faces each year. Caleb parks outside of the rental office and turns off the radio.

“It’s cold here,” I laugh hugging my knees to my chest.

He rolls his eyes. “This is Georgia-not Michigan.”

“Still,” I say slyly. “We have no blankets or clothes, so we might need to use body heat to keep warm.”

His eyes pop. I laugh at his reaction and shove him out the open door.

“Go!” I instruct, pointing at the office. Caleb takes a few faltering steps backwards—still looking at me in mock surprise, then turns around and jogs into the small structure.

I settle back in my seat, proud of my crassitude.

Caleb exits the building about ten minutes later with an older woman trailing behind him. When he reaches the car, she throws up a hand and waves at him like he’s an A-list celebrity. Her jowls flap around like pillowcases and I snicker. He is forever making friends…or fans.  Amnesia apparently does not change everything about a person.

“They don’t allow tents here,” he tells me, but they have these structures that they rent out. Looks like a tent, but bigger and it has wood floors.”

I already know this. The first time he deceived me into coming here, he told me that we would be staying in a luxury cabin. I packed my bags, excited to be leaving Florida, something I had never done before, and wondered whether or not our ‘cabin’ would have a fireplace. When we pulled up to the camp grounds, I looked around for the cabin in anticipation.

“Where is it?” I had asked, craning my neck to peer into the trees. All I saw were tepee-like tents. Maybe the cabins were further back into the woods. Caleb had smiled at me and parked his car in front of one of the tepees.  He laughed when my face turned white.

“I thought we were staying in a cabin,” I had said, folding my arms across my chest.

“Trust me, this is posh camping, Duchess. Usually you have to erect your own tent and the floor is just thin canvas beneath you.”

I grunted, and stared at the tent miserably. He had tricked me.

 Despite my initial horror, it turned out to be the best weekend of my life, and I would be forever addicted to ‘posh’ camping.

 “Let’s go buy fur coats,” Caleb says blasting the heat. I nod and stare contentedly out of the window.

We find a Super Wal-Mart a few miles away, leave Pickles in the car, while Caleb puts his arm around me as we run for the doors. People stare at us like we have antennae growing from our heads. Some of them are in shorts.

“Its arctic cold out here,” I say to Caleb, and he smiles like I’m silly.

“Not to them.”

I am freezing, even though it’s at least fifty degrees out, and I wonder what it feels like to be in snow. I think of asking Caleb about snow but then I remember he doesn’t have any memory of it.

We head to the clothing department first. Caleb finds a matching pair of sweatshirts with kittens on the front that says, “I’m Cat’s About Georgia.”

“We are getting these,” he says throwing them in the cart.

I look at them in mortification and shake my head.

“How’s a girl supposed to look pretty wearing something like that?”

He tweaks my nose.

“You would look pretty wearing burlap and mud.”

I turn away to hide my smile.

We fill our cart with underwear, sweatpants, and socks and then head over to the food aisles.

By the time we stand in line to pay, we have enough food for two weeks. Caleb pulls out his credit card and refuses to take any money from me.  We pull our sweatshirts over our heads next to the free magazine rack in the foyer and then dash to the car with our bags.

“Breakfast,” Caleb says tossing me a can of boiled peanuts. I pull a face.

“I’m pretty sure I saw a McDonalds back that way.” I pass the can back to him.

“No way,” he shoves it at my chest, “we are doing this the right way. Eat your peanuts!”

“The right way,” I mumble. “Is that why you bought an electric heater?”  He looks at me out of the corner of his eye and I see a smile creeping at the corners of his lips. He always liked it when I sassed him.

We pull into our temporary gravel driveway around nine and begin lugging our supplies into the tent. I set up inside, stripping our new sleeping bags of their tags and arranging them on opposite sides of the small space we are sharing. I glance outside the tent and see Caleb arranging logs to make a fire. After a moment of watching his strong arms tug and pull, I yank the sleeping bags closer together. I might as well stay as close as I can—while I can.

Once the fire is lively and spitting, we each grab a semi-chilled bottle of beer and cozy up on our rainbow striped beach chairs.

 “So does this feel familiar?” I ask, stroking Pickle’s head. He furrows his brow and shakes his head.

“No. But, it feels good. I like being here with you.”

I sigh. Ditto.

“What are you going to do about your apartment?” he asks not looking at me.

“Start new I guess. I don’t really want to think about it. It’s depressing,” I pull the lid off of the can of boiled peanuts and fish one out.

“We can both start over,” he flips the cap off another bottle of beer and lifts it to his lips. I watch him quietly waiting for him to continue.

“I’m going to start living my life the way I want to live it,” he tells me. “I’m not really sure who I was before the accident, but by the looks of things I was pretty miserable.”

  I down the rest of my beer and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I wonder idly if he was miserable because of me. Was it possible that right before his accident that he was still affected by my betrayal?

I think of Leah and I wonder if she is waiting at his condo, waiting to crack me open like the bad egg I am.  Maybe I should have let it happen. It would have expedited the inevitable. I could tell him right now, but then I’d have to share a car with him back to Florida. Eight hours of torture. I deserve it. I open my mouth, the truth burning behind my lips to be let out. I can say it all quickly and then take cover. I toy with the idea of calling Cammie to come get me. I look at Caleb just as he stands up and stretches.

“Bathroom?” he says, scratching his chest. I point to a building that sits like a grubby egg-carton in the middle of the campgrounds. It is communal and it stinks like bleach. I watch him until he disappears into the building and go to the car to look for the bag of dog food that we bought. I am digging around in the backseat when I hear a rattling noise. I pull myself up and peer over the seat. His phone is lying on the passenger side floorboard. It is vibrating and from where I am I can see the name “Leah” flashing on the screen. Glancing over my shoulder I check to make sure he is still in the bathroom and snatch up the phone.

Seventeen missed calls—all from Leah. Wow! She is really gunning for me. I see my wrecked apartment in my mind and I shudder. If Caleb sees how many times she’s called, he will surely call her back. He is too considerate of a person to let her worry. I shut my eyes. I can’t let that happen. I hold down the power button and watch the screen turn black. Then I shove the phone into my pocket.

“Olivia?” I spin around. My heart is beating so fast, I can feel it pounding in my kneecaps. Did he see what I did?

I open my mouth to make some excuse, when he interrupts me.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he says.

A walk.

“A walk?”

“It’ll warm you up,” he holds out his hand and I take it. I have once again escaped the inevitable.

I grit my teeth as we walk. This whole escape-by-the-skin-of-your-teeth scenario was getting old.

Caleb’s phone feels like a wad of guilt against my thigh. I pray that he doesn’t see the bulge and make sure that he walks on the opposite side of where it is hidden.

Later, when we are back at our tent, I tell him that I need to call my boss.

“I need to tell her that I won’t be able to work for a few days,” I explain.

“Sure. Take your time. I’ll...uh….” He points a finger down the hill.

“Wander around?” I laugh.

He pulls a face and heads off.

I wait until he is a safe distance away and I head toward the lake. My sneakers suck at the mud and make revolting noises.

  My message to Bernie takes only a minute. I briefly explain about the break in and promise to call back in a few days. I hit the end button and glance over my shoulder. Caleb is nowhere in sight. I pull his cell phone from my pocket and power it on. Two messages. I jab at the voicemail key and hold the phone to my ear. A voice asks for the password. Shit. I type in his birth date and the voice tells me that the password is incorrect. I try his birth year and bingo!

First message.

“Caleb, it’s Leah. Look…we really need to talk. I have some very interesting news for you. It’s about your new little friend Olivia. She’s not who you think. Give me a call back as soon as you can,” a pause, then, “I love you.”

The second message was left thirty minutes after the first.

“It’s Leah again. I’m really starting to get worried. I’m at your place and it looks like you left in a hurry. I just really need to talk to you babe. Call me.”  I make a face and snap the phone closed. She has a key to his condo. Why didn’t I suspect she’d have a key? She was probably snooping around in his apartment while he was in the hospital after the accident. The little tramp has probably already seen her ring!

  I glare at the phone, weighing my options. It has to go. It was the phone or it was me.

I walk down the little dirt incline that leads to the water’s slimy edge and watch the mosquitoes dance drunkenly along its surface.

“Leah,” I say looking down at Caleb’s phone. “Not yet.” And then I throw it into the water.

“Olivia, Have you seen my phone?”

I am crouched over a can of beans trying to manipulate the cheap can opener we’d bought. I drop both of them.

“Shit,” I say sidestepping the brown mess that is creeping across the ground towards my toes.

Caleb grabs another can from our stash and opens it for me.

He dumps it into our hot pot.

  “You can use my phone. It’s over there on my sleeping bag.”

Caleb takes two strides to where I point and lowers himself to his haunches.

“I could have sworn my phone was in the car….”

“Maybe you dropped it at Wal-Mart,” I suggest over my shoulder.

“Yeah…”

I hold my breath while he dials and pray that he isn’t calling Leah.

“Mum,” I hear him say and I slump against Pickles in relief.

  “No, no, I’m fine. I just decided to take a little trip…she did? What did she want?”

I didn’t think about Leah calling his parent’s house.

 “…Oh, but she didn’t tell you why?…well, I’ll be back in a couple of days, I’ll talk to her then…Yes I’m sure mum. Love you too.”  I watch his face carefully. He looks worried.

“Hey,” I say taking my telephone from his hand and stuffing it in my purse.

“Come flirt with me while I heat these beans up.”

I grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the plug outlet.

For the next four days, we stay cozened in our tent as the temperature drops to forty. We eat cup o’ noodles and fight over who got to sleep next to the portable heater. When it grows dark outside we pull our beach chairs together and wrap ourselves in blankets to watch the fire. Caleb keeps bringing up my failure to fill out my law school applications and I respond with a jab about his failure to propose to Leah. By the time we crawl into our separate sleeping bags at night, we have stupid smiles plastered on our faces. Every night Caleb engages me in an exchange that makes my toes tingle underneath all four pairs of my socks.

“Olivia?”

“Yes, Caleb?”

“Are you going to dream about me tonight?”

“Shut up.”

And then he laughs that beautiful, sexy laugh.

Chapter Eleven

The Past

“Do you love me?”

“I’m sorry—what?!”

“Do you love me? That’s a simple enough question. Would you prefer if I asked you in another language?” He rolled from his back onto his belly, rearing up above me. “M'aimez-vous? Você ama-me tanto como o amo?” Caleb, who was fluent in French and Italian, was showing off. The grass beneath my back began to itch like his question.

We had been dating for exactly one year and I had successfully skirted, ignored, and deferred my way through not answering it. It was hard work putting any of those techniques into use when Caleb Drake was inches away from your face, staring at you with his intense eyes.  I took a deep breath to level myself and thought about the millions of starving children in Africa. We were in Georgia, camping much to my chagrin. I was tired and sweaty and wearing the same pair of pants that I wore the day before. We had been here for twenty-four hours and all I had received other than this rather obtuse question, was a bazillion bug bites and sore muscles.

“When I get home, I’m going to sponsor one of those kids from Kenya,” I said scratching my knee. “You know—from those Children’s Fund commercials?”

Caleb gave me a look.

“I…I…love…ice cream…” I said squirming underneath his gaze. “And I love hot showers and clean clothes.”

“Olivia?” he said in a warning voice.

“Caleb,” I imitated his tone. He frowned at me and I looked away. It wasn’t like I was holding back the Canaan wine here. He hadn’t said I love you to me either, though he asked me this question often enough.

“Why do you always ask me that?” I sighed, ripping a piece of grass from the ground. I began tearing it into little shreds and tossing it to the breeze.

“Why do you never answer?”

“Because it’s a hard question.”

“It’s a yes or no, actually. You have a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right.”

If only it were that simple.  Did I love him at this point? I loved him from the first point…the point where our two lives crossed the first time. I couldn’t tell him that though, I didn’t know how and every time I tried, the words would get stuck in my throat.

“You’re pressuring me.” I pushed him away and sat up dusting my hands on my sweats.

Caleb sprang to his feet, paced, and then turned around to face me. He was seething.

“I’ve never pressured you to do anything.”

I felt my face turn white. It was true. It was a lousy thing to say to a twenty-three year old man who never complained when his girlfriend always stopped short of second base.

“You’re trying to make me say something that I’m not ready to say,” I choked looking away.

“I’m trying to find out where we are going. Olivia. I already know you love me.”

I glared up at him in shock and he shrugged.

“The fact that you can’t say it—is a problem. I love you.”

My lip trembled. Pathetic, but it did. I felt my chest heaving in an effort to breathe. He loved me.

“You can’t say it because you don’t trust me. If you don’t trust me, I can’t be with you.”

I felt panic swell in my chest. Was he threatening me?

He was still towering over me, so I stood up. It didn’t do much good because he was a foot taller.

“I hate you,” I said and he started laughing.

“You fight like a child. I’m not dealing with you.” And he walked away, leaving me both utterly bewildered and buzzing in excitement from this new information. He loved me.  I collapsed back into the grass and smiled up at the sky.

Later, when I grew tired of sulking by the lake, I went back to our tent and moped around. Caleb had yet to appear from wherever he stalked off to and I was getting hungry. I was digging around in our food stash when he walked through the flap of our fancy tent. Our eyes met and I dropped the bag of pretzels I was holding. Something was wrong, there was trouble written on his face. Was he going to break up with me now? I prepared myself and lined up some nasty things to say to him.

“You’re spoiled.”

“I’m an orphan,” I pointed out. “Who is there to spoil me?”

“I spoil you. I let you get away with too much. I give you free reign, and you take advantage.”

“You don’t own me, to give me free reign,” I said narrowing my eyes at him. “What an asshole thing to say.” I turned away but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back.

“I own you,” he said pulling me against his chest and holding me there. I stared up at him openmouthed.

“No,” I shook my head, but I wasn’t so sure what we were talking about anymore.

My wrists were tiny and they were clamped so securely in his big hands, that I didn’t even bother trying to pull away.

“Let me go.”

He held me tighter. We were so close I could feel his breath on my face.

“Who owns you then?” he challenged.

“Me. Not you, not anyone else…ever.” I felt petulant and foolish, but I lifted my nose in the air anyway and glared at him. Caleb’s eyes were cold and hard. He laughed at me, a deep throaty laugh. Then he looked down into my eyes and said;

“You are master of your own body, yes?”

“Yes,” I spat. Lava-like anger was erupting inside of me. I was ready to let the white trash out.

“Then you won’t have a problem controlling it,” he finished, and I stared at him through angry eyes—confused.

“What?”

He let go of my wrists, or more appropriately flung them away, but before I could move, he’d grabbed me around my waist and pulled me against him.

He kissed me, not a normal Caleb kiss, but a fierce moving of his mouth over mine. He was so in control of my mouth that I couldn’t have kissed back if I’d wanted to.

My hands pushed against his chest, trying to move the rock of him away, but it was useless.

My body started pounding in response to his touch.  It was so powerful, I was sure I was going to split in half.

I picked up on the rhythm of his lips and returned his kisses, pressure for pressure, bite for bite. He broke away from my lips just when I had the hang of it and grabbed a fistful of my hair pulling my head back so that he had access to my neck.

Caleb peeled away from me and for a second I’d thought I’d won. But instead of backing away, he grabbed my t-shirt by the collar and with one tug, ripped it from top to bottom. My limp arms provided no traction and it fluttered to the ground. I stared, disbelievingly at him, and he grabbed me again, kissing my shoulders, running his lips over my collar bone. My bra came off, with a flick of his fingers and suddenly my legs lost their will to stand. Caleb scooped me up from behind my knees and placed me on my back, coming to rest on top of me. I wasn’t providing a shred of resistance at this point. My mind had stopped working—stopped making excuses. I was tangled up in the moment and for once I didn’t mind.

“Are you still in control?” he said this into my hair, as his hands climbed my thigh. I wrapped myself around him and nodded into his neck. Sure, I was. I was making a conscious decision to go along with this little roll we were having. I desperately wished that he would just shut up and get on with it.

“Stop me,” he said. “If you’re in control, then stop me.”

His hand was at the junction of my thighs now and stopping him was the last thing I wanted to do.  I dug my nails into his arms in response.  Caleb grabbed at the waistband of my sweatpants and tugged them down. Everything was blurry—everything except what I wanted to happen.

“Who owns you?” he said.

What? Weren’t we past this already?

I opened my eyes and looked up at him and I started to grasp what was happening. Caleb still had all of his clothes on while I was lying on the floor in my panties. I had lost complete control. He was playing with me. I let my body go limp and looked into his face.

“Who owns you?” he repeated more gently, placing his palm over the spot where my heart sat.  He was right. He had my heart and every other piece of flesh that was attached to it. He wasn’t being a chauvinist. He was telling me something. I thought about sticking to my first reaction but the adult in me was struggling to get out.

“You.”

He stopped moving and I could feel his back heaving as he breathed. We were cheek to cheek, his arms resting on either side of my body. In one giant movement, he sprang off of me, and landed on his feet like a cat.

“Thank you.” He straightened his collar and then he walked out of the tent and left me—on the floor in nothing but my panties.

I burst into tears.

Chapter Twelve

The Present

 “What is it like twenty degree’s outside?” I shiver and rub my arms. It is our last day and a ball of dread has taken up residence in my stomach.

“Try fifty,” he says handing me a Styrofoam cup of coffee.

  I frown and climb back inside the tent to pack. I am folding clothes when I hear his voice.

“Olivia, we need to talk,” I peer over my shoulder suspiciously. He is spinning his thumb ring—always a bad sign.

I sigh. Is this about the phone? I wondered.

“Sure.”  I am balancing on the very lip of disaster and I can feel our time sliding through my fingers like sand. I remember that creepo, rapist’s warning outside of the music shop; You should get home before it’s too late. The sky’s red with trouble. Red, red, red…like Leah’s hair.

I follow him outside, my coffee still in hand. He leans on the hood of his car.

“What’s up?” I try to be nonchalant as I sidle up next to him.

“What’s going on here, Olivia? What are we doing?”

“Camping,” I declare, which doesn’t even earn me half of a smile.

What does he want me to say? What’s safe?

“We are…I don’t know Caleb. What do you want me to say?”

He shakes his head. He looks disappointed. Am I supposed to spill my guts? Before I can open my lying mouth, he beats me to it.

“You can’t think of anything to say?” he quizzes. I shake my head. Why do I always lie? For real, it’s like a disease.

“All right then…” He does the unexpected, instead of pushing me for more, he starts packing up our things; sleeping bags, clothes, Pickles. They all get tossed into the car, one by one, two by two, and all I could do is watch with my mouth open. But then what could I say? I want to be with you Caleb. These few days have been the stuff of dreams. I love you more every second I’m with you.

 I am in a corner. I reluctantly get into the car and stuff my cold hands under my armpits. Caleb turns the music all the way up and ignores me. I am so mad. I think about things I can say to piss him off but I am too chicken to carry any of them out. The old Caleb had a hot temper, and if this guy had inherited it, I don’t want to find out.

The hills became flatland, as Georgia melts into Florida.

I turn down the volume as we cruise through Tallahassee and turn my body until I am half facing him.

“Caleb…talk to me.”

 I see a muscle in his jaw twitch, but other than that he gives me nada.

“Please—talk to me,” I try. This is going to be harder than I expect. New tactic.

“Why are you being so sensitive? I don’t say what you want to hear and now you’re sulking?”

That does it. He takes the exit, swerving to the right at the last minute. I hear a grunt from Pickles as she’s thrown across the backseat.

We are in the middle of nowhere and there is only trees and road ahead of us. Caleb zooms into the gates of what looks like a park. There are only three parking spaces and they are all deserted. He pulls into one and jerks on the brake. This place is really creepy. I fidget nervously and look at his face.

“What are we doing?” he asks again.

“I…” I look out of the window desperate for an escape. He’s trying to get me to talk about my feelings, something I can’t do with all of the lying going on.  Despite my fear of the dark, I jump out of the car.

“Where are you going?” he demands, opening his door and following suit. Before I have the door shut, he walks around to where I am and corners me.

I try to push past him but he presses me against the door with his body and puts both hands on either side of my head. We are nose to nose, as he seethes at me.

“What. Are. We. Doing?” he demands.

I squirm, but there is nowhere to go. I place both of my hands on his chest. Why is he trying to milk this out of me anyway? I’d swear this is the old Caleb, not the gentle little fawn I’ve been dealing with.

“Okay, okay. But, you have to get out of my personal space…”

He relents a few inches and I use the opportunity to duck under his arm.

I ignore his calls and concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. I am heading into complete darkness, but it seems better than the alternative. I need to think for a minute. I walk until I can no longer hear the hum of the highway. I am in the woods—no, I am in an orange grove. I recognize the fragrant white flowers that are peppering the trees. They smell like Caleb, of course, because everything in my freaking life has to be about Caleb? I kick a tree.

I can hear feet moving in the dirt behind me, so I stop. Might as well tell him everything now, so I square my shoulders and prepare to fight.

Caleb walks out of the darkness like a beautiful ghost. When he catches sight of me, he stops short. We stare at each other and then I cross my arms over my chest.

“What are we doing?” I repeat his question. “I am trying to escape my miserable, lonely life. I…” I take a deep breath before I continue. “I am a liar and a wicked person. I’ve lied to you, I—”

It takes him three seconds to reach where I am standing. I hear myself gasp as he pins me against a tree. He is inches from my face, his arms braced on the trunk to block my escape.

“Stop,” he says. “Just stop.”

I look at his eyes and look away. Why is he making everything so hard? I just want to get it out already…

"Look at me," he demands.

  I do.

"You're making excuses and you’re playing games with me," he says.

"No—I…"

"Yes. You. Are. I don’t care what you’ve done. Just tell me how you feel."

He looks so angry I shrink back against the tree until I felt the bark digging into my back. He wants an honest answer, but I’m pretty sure you have to be an actual honest person to give one of those. I lick my lips, thinking…thinking. I have a million thoughts a day and they’re all about Caleb. All I have to do is make them come out of my mouth.

“I want you to kiss me.”

He doesn’t look surprised.

“What else?”

His lips– all I can see are his lips, so full and sensual. My breath is coming embarrassingly fast.

If I just lean a little bit forward, our lips will touch. But, I know from years of experience that he won’t give me what I want, until I give him what he wants.

My stubbornness kicks in. I turn my head to the side. He steers it back with a little swipe of his finger.

"Olivia...." he warns. His eyes are gunning holes in my head. I can feel the heat of his chest beneath my fingertips, and I know that his heart is beating fast like mine.

"Say it, Olivia. For once, damn-it, say it." He is looking at my lips-waiting. I think about lying. I don’t like how direct he’s suddenly become. I was perfectly comfortable playing games.

"I want…you to…” I search for the word and can’t find it. “Can you just kiss me first and then we’ll see how I feel?”