Page 34 of Not Made to Last

What do I want from her?

If Olivia wants another truth from me, then she’s asking the wrong questions, because I want nothing from her.

“I just want to get to know you, that’s all.”

Across from me, Olivia crosses her arms. “There’s nothing to know.”

That’s where she’s wrong. “Well, I know your name’s not Olivia Delgado.”

“I never said it was,” she’s quick to say, dropping her arms and turning away from me. Today, she’s in a crop top and workout shorts with the waistband rolled over. Her bare stomach’s on full display, and swear, I’d never been so turned on by an abdomen before. Maybe it’s because it’s the first time I’m seeing hers, or maybe because it’s her, but holy hell. She moves back to an old dresser she was working on when I walked in and continues to scrape the pale pink paint off it. “It makes sense now…”

She has back dimples.

I might just combust.

Turn to ash on her garage floor.

Her hair’s up in a messy knot, the way I’ve always seen it, leaving her nape bare, and I force myself not to go to her and kiss her right in that spot. I take a step forward. Stop myself there. And I try to remember what she just said. “What makes sense?”

“It bothers you that you didn’t know about me, and now that you do, you can’t figure me out.” She turns to me, her eyes widening at how close I am. She tries to hide her reaction, but I notice the way her throat moves with her swallow. “This is all part of some game for you, isn’t it? The chase. The?—”

“Why are you acting like this?” I cut in, and it comes harsher than intended, but, honestly, I’m getting sick of feeling like I’m in the wrong. Like whatever’s happening between us is one-sided. It’s not.

“Acting like what?”

I sigh. “Say it is a game for me. Would you want to play?”

“No,” she deadpans.

I meet her glare across the room. “Bullshit.”

Her eye roll makes me smile. Makes me kind of hard, too.

“Say what you need to make yourself feel better, Cheeks, but I know you want me.”

She scoffs.

“You know how I know?”

“Enlighten me.”

“The first time we met was an accident.” I pause a beat, narrow my eyes at her. “I think…”

She smiles, lowering her defenses.

I grin wider. “The second time took a little coercing, sure, but the third time? You accepted my order, picked it up, drove all the way to my house, and let me get in your car. And now?”

“What about now?”

“Are you always in here with the door open?”

“You’ve never worked with wood before, have you?”

I chuckle. Turntwelve. “I usually have other people working on my wood for me.”

She smiles behind her scoff. “You’re an idiot.”

“And yet… you haven’t asked me to leave, so…”

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