Page 36 of Not Made to Last

“It was in your high school newsletter,” I cut in, trying to brush it off. Exposing my extensive knowledge on all things Olivia might get me arrested for stalking. A class H felony if I recall correctly. “It was really all I could find, so…”

Her eyes lift, lock on mine. “Who’s turn is it to ask?” she questions, and I can see her interest fading.

Trying to keep her with me, I ask, “Is this one of your three jobs Max mentioned?” I motion to the literal piles of furniture covering the length of an entire wall. “You flip old furniture?”

“How much did Max tell you?”

“Not a lot.” I pause a beat. “Actually, yeah, he told me everything. The STEM camp, and how Dominic’s working there, so they had a place to stay, and how much he appreciates how hard you work so you could afford to send him.”

She doesn’t speak, and I get it. It’s an awkward topic.

“So?” I ask.

“So what?”

“Is this one of your three jobs?”

After a sigh, she answers, “Why don’t you ask your new best friend?”

I grin. Like an idiot. “I would, but he’s at summer camp.”

Her eye roll is as playful as her tone when she says, “Yes, it’s one of them.”

I nod, looking around the garage. There’s sawdust on every surface, all over the floor, clumps of it heaped in corners. Usually, a space like this would bother me, but having Olivia be the center of it all is almost… calming. “How did you get into it?”

“My grandpa,” she answers, and it’s the easiest response she’s given so far. “But he was much better at it than me. His specialty was restoring antique furniture to its original condition. People would send him pieces from all over; he was that good…”

I wait, wanting more, because I know this means more than she’s letting on. Instead, she switches it up and asks, “Truth?”

I nod in response.

“Are you here because you want to kiss me again?” Liv, like any living human, has sides, and I’d happily spend the rest of my existence uncovering every single one of them. This side of Liv—this coy, playful, teasing side—is possibly my favorite.

“I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I want to do more than just kiss you, Liv.” I smirk when her cheeks bloom pink. “But all that aside, you have something that belongs to me.”

“Right.” She nods once, taking a moment to tear her eyes away from me before moving to a door. She opens it, saying over her shoulder, “Are you coming?”

18

Olivia

The only thing I want to show Rhys seems to be the last thing he notices when he enters my room. Maybe it’s because he wasn’t expecting to walk directly into a bedroom from the garage, or maybe it’s because of the room itself.

I try to see things through his eyes: the many plants that hang from the ceiling, sit on the window ledge, or on the floor. Rather than books placed neatly on shelves, I have years’ worth of things Max has made for me: LEGO builds, drawings, pieces he’d crafted at school. My bed is nothing more than a mattress that sits on a raised floor by the full-length window. I’d dreamed about it one night, designed it the next morning, and had Dom help me build it within days. Right now, the bed is unmade, with multiple pillows scattered about. A pile of dirty clothes sits on the floor in the corner, and sure, I’d considered cleaning my room, assuming Rhys would show up, but what would be the point? It’s not as if I was trying to impress him. Besides, I don’t plan on him staying all that long.

The neatest thing in my room is the stack of Rhys’ possessions that sits on the corner of the bed—hoodie, cash, phone. All things I plan on him taking when he leaves.

I know that he’s noticed it, but he doesn’t give it a second glance. So, I stand in place, watching Rhys walk around, fixated on his surroundings while I fixate on him.

I study his presence like I’ve studied his texts.

Rhys picks up a completed Rubik’s Cube and scrutinizes it before trailing his eyes to mine. “Max solved it when he was three,” I explain, even though he didn’t ask. Rhys doesn’t respond, just flips the cube over in his hands a few times.

There’s a certain innocence to Rhys I hadn’t expected. An almost childlike wonder in the way he studies things, the way he sees things as if it’s his first time.

And as I watch him, I try to imagine him as a kid.

I can’t.

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