Page 80 of Fly Back to Me
Ah, I get it.
She’s referring to us running into each other at my brewery. There was a different mood between us, so maybe that’s what Olivia’s referencing?
Unless …
Fly back to me.
She barely admitted she was looking for someone when I confronted her on the overlook, but the implication was there.
My head snaps to the side when the barista calls my order. I pick up the coffee and small bag in one hand, abandoning my racing thoughts as I head back to Olivia.
“Just in case you needed extra writing fuel,” I say, resting the bag next to her computer.
She flashes her pearly whites, staring at the bag as if it’s a pair of diamond earrings. “Yeah, sure. We can go with that.”
I sit down, her delighted eyes tracking me as she munches on the rest of her first cinnamon bun. Her thumb and forefinger pop out of her mouth, and a speck of brown sugar clings to her pink gloss.
Without hesitation, my thumb swipes the sugary dust off her satin bottom lip.
“Sorry,” she mutters.
My chest warms just as her cheeks glow. “I’m not offended.”
“How much do I owe you?” she asks.
“Considering I refuse to answer that, I’m just going to say that I don’t think it’s by accident,” I reply before sipping my cold brew.
I briefly jerk my brows as I gulp the smooth liquid, locking with her puzzled eyes. We hang in limbo for a few beats, herfeatures softening once the lightbulb shines in her mind. “You don’t?”
I shake my head. “No. If two people meet twice in different ways, maybe that’s just life’s way of telling them that they were built forevery moment. Not just the simple times or the rough ones.Both. And every road in between,” I explain. “If you’re meant for someone, what’s the point if you can’t travel every path together?”
The crook of her mouth turns up, and even that hint of a smile graces her eyes. A flicker of contentment gleaming through.Relief. “I’d like to think your theory is true,” she admits while lifting her drink. “My mind flows with questions sometimes. You’ll get used to it. My roommate has been forced to.” Then she shrugs before sipping her latte.
“I’ve noticed,” I answer casually.
Her index finger points to her chest as she gulps. “Imaginative to a fault. That’s me.”
“Sometimes perfection is overrated,” I say.
The tip of her tongue pokes out to lick her lips. “Or perfection is subjective.”
“What do you mean?”
Her free fingers whisk her bangs away from her eyes. “I mean that everyone has their idea of perfection,” she answers. “That there’s one person out there who’s flawless tothem. Like everyone is handed a unique puzzle, and it’s a matter of finding the precise piece that completes it.”
A small grin carves from my mouth, sweetly coaxing her.
She scrunches her face before planting a hand over it. And fuck if there aren’t damn butterflies soaring in my stomach right now. “You’re making me vulnerable. That’s not very nice,” she murmurs.
I smirk as I gently lower her hand, and she catches my playful stare. “Should I beat myself off in a bunny costume nexttime? I promise I’d steal all the vulnerability at that point.”
She chuckles, her shoulders bouncing before she pops one in consideration. “I mean, hey, I might like it.” Her fingers gesture toward her collarbone. “Especially if you had a yellow bow with polka dots.”
“Obviously.” I jerk my brows a couple times. “Scattered plastic eggs. A bunny burrow after, maybe?”
“As long as the bunny suit stays on.”
“Of course it would stay on,” I lightly scoff. “It’s abunny burrow.”
