Tension from a sleepless night and a cuff around the back of my head at two a.m. this morning slid down my spine as the shadows of the foyer welcomed us back.
Tuesday.
A good day.
Four full days within a classroom where the mess of my world couldn’t find me.
I sighed heavily, annoyed that my thoughts had darkened while Olin walked by my side. It wasn’t fair to her goodness to be thinking of the cesspit I lived in.
Olin took her time answering, her face determined as if her answer was important. Which it was. Everything about her was important.
I wanted to ask every question and steal every answer. I wanted to know what her favourite drink was. What did she do after school? Did she have any hobbies? Did she have a dog or a goldfish? What did she think about late at night in bed?
I trembled with the need to skip past the awkwardness and find comfort in each other. I wasn’t cut out for honesty and ripping scabs off emotional wounds. I was drawn to her because she was safe. Telling her who I was didn’t feel safe.
It could ruin our friendship. And friendship with Olin had the power to be the most valuable thing in my life.
Entering our classroom, Olin finally said, “I think it made me feel better because it doesn’t sound so bad out loud. Sure, I miss my parents. Sure, they’re not home a lot and I’m an only child. And sure, compared to my friends who have mums and dads who cook for them and scold them for not doing their homework, I’m a little lonely. But...I’m also so much luckier than most.”
My heart once again swelled for this incredible, forgiving girl.
“I have a house. A bed. Blankets. There’s electricity for heating and TV. There’s a kitchen to make pancakes. There’s even space in the garden that’s a perfect place to dance.” She sighed happily. “So you see, I might not have everything, but I have so much too. So that’s why I feel better. It made me focus on what I do have and not what I don’t.”
“That’s why you help others...’cause you’re grateful?”
“Isn’t that why anyone helps? Because of empathy and the knowledge that someone out there has it way harder than you? Even on those bad days, we’re still alive and—”
“It’s not that simple.” I walked away, tossing my bag beneath my desk. Kicking it farther into the shadows, I didn’t want her to see the ketchup stains or rips. I’d pulled it from a dumpster behind a local fast food joint a few months ago because I had no money to buy one and my father would never dream of providing for me.
I supposed she was right.
I might not have much, but I had a bag. I had a bed to sleep in—when I wasn’t being abused. I had school.
I have her.
My hackles dropped as I turned to face her.
“Life can be as simple or as complicated as we make it.” Olin slipped her bag off her shoulder, letting it slouch onto the floor by her desk. “But I’ll shut up now. I get the feeling you don’t really want to talk about this.”
I scowled. “What gave you that impression?”
She made no move to sit. The empty classroom echoed a little, the sterile walls and lack of decoration making it seem as if we didn’t belong without a teacher present.
What would Ms Tallup say if she knew we were here alone?
I shuddered a little.
I loathed Ms Tallup. I loathed her as much as I feared her, and I had a healthy dose of fear. I’d lived through far worse people than a strict woman with a stick up her ass, but instinct was a powerful thing in my world.
And instinct told me to be careful of her.
“You’re shutting down on me.” Olin smiled gently.
“How can you tell?”
She laughed. “The clenched fists are a dead giveaway.”
I looked down, deliberately spreading my fingers. “Oh...sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
Awkwardness settled again. Silence thick and filled with nervous heartbeats.
The quietness grew too painful. I blurted, “If your parents are absentee, what do you do after school?” At the same time, she rushed, “You know, you smell like oranges.”
We froze, letting our voices tangle together.
We smiled hesitantly.
We laughed softly.
The tension cracked and ebbed away.
I relaxed, tasting the ease that could be between us. What would that be like? To trust her above all others? To care for her? To protect her? To...love her?
I knew what connection was supposed to be like thanks to books and the occasional glimpse of TV, but I had nothing to compare it to in my own life. No role model to copy. No guidelines to follow.
All I had was the undying, unselfish desire to be whatever Olin needed, and it drove me mad that I didn’t know what that was yet.
“The smell is my deodorant.” I shrugged. “It’s overpowering.”
She leaned closer, inhaling deep.
My heart literally exploded.
Her eyes glowed. “I like it. Whenever I think of oranges, I’ll think of you.”
“You think of oranges often?”
“I will now.” Her gaze dropped to the floor as another blush dusted her cheeks. “I mean...um, of course not. Who thinks of fruit? That’s just weird.” A strained chuckle fell from her lips.
Her reaction to innocent flirting made me tremble. Made me want to keep her.
I’d never kissed anyone.
I wanted her to be my first.
To taste those pretty lips and feel her delicate body against mine.
I swallowed hard as my heart thundered and body swelled.
I thought I could handle just being her friend until I made her mine, but I hadn’t factored in the insane amount of affection I already had for her and the hunger that had been building for years.
I want you, O.
More than you can ever know.
Once again, silence squeezed between us, making everything so damn difficult.
What came next? What should I say that would be articulate, funny, and hide just how desperate I was to have her be mine?
“You know...” I squeezed the back of my neck. “Your name starts with O. Like oranges. Maybe I’ll associate you with fruit too, and we can both think of each other when—” I cut myself off with a groan. “Forget I said that. Super cheesy.”
She giggled; silence once again banished to the empty corners of the room. “You’re not at all like I expected.”
Our eyes locked. “What did you expect?”
“Oh, I dunno.” She waved her hand. “Brooding, sarcastic...mean. You skulk into class and don’t talk to anyone. You have a reputation for being dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” I grinned, enjoying the fact that she’d been aware of me more than I realised. “Do you think I’m dangerous?”
She looked me up and down, raking heat along my skin with her stare. “Maybe. I don’t know you yet.”
“You know me better than anyone in this school.”
“How is that possible? This is our second conversation.”
“I’m selective.”
“I heard you were a loner.”
“That too.”
“Why?” She cocked her head, sending dark blonde hair scattering over her baby blue top.
“Because I don’t trust easy.”
“Can you trust me?”