“And the winner gets what?”
“Whatever they want.”
“With you and your buddy. That’s dangerous. Be more specific.”
“Fine, I’ll take you out somewhere tonight.”
“More details…”
“A place that will relax you. Somewhere nice.”
I don’t even listen to another word, gaining a head start. My calculations show only ten minutes to home, and on the last stretch where I’ve got him beat. Then he comes out of nowhere, jogging past me with his head held high, even turning around, so he’s running backward, and waits for me at the gate without a single sweat and sporting a victorious grin.
A surge of adrenalin pushes me, my legs moving harder, counting down the steps until I reach the end. When I pull up at the front of my house, I almost collapse, falling into his body, unable to catch my breath. My panting doesn’t dwindle, and my rapid heartbeat restricts the airflow to my lungs which feel like they are going to explode any minute.
“Aw… c’mon, Gabs, now tell me that was fun.”
I can’t even talk.
The exertion brings on more breathlessness like the air around me is devoid of any oxygen. My ribs heave up and down, but nothing comes. Everything begins to spin. I don’t even care that he’s still holding onto me. I’m ready to die, at this moment, the intensity almost killing me.
“You are evil,” I choke, gulping for air.
“It’s why you love me.”
“Love is a strong word,” I tell him, the same moment he opens the gate for me. “Loathe would be more accurate.”
“Tonight, say seven? And bring a bikini.”
I’m confused. That is until his stupid ‘winner gets whatever they want’ comes racing back to me.
“Okay, stop!” I grab his arm, forcing him to slow down. “Where are we going?”
“A swimsuit, wetsuit, you’re going to get very wet,” he teases, licking his lips.
God, I already am. That run is like a big foreplay session. Ignoring the way his eyes feast on me, I try to play it cool. It is important he has no clue how he’s affecting me in any way whatsoever.
“Anything else?”
“Yeah, tell Prince Charming you’re going to be out late.”
It’s almost like I can sense his jealousy masked behind the pretentious smile plastered on his face. I want to ask him if he is, in fact, jealous. Tease him because he’s an easy target when it comes to his ego. But perhaps, I am reading more into this than I should be. This isn’t a competition. Oliver is an acquaintance. Sebastian is my fiancé in the waiting.
As he turns away, walking back toward Aubrey and Chance’s house, I call his name, prompting him to turn around.
“What Prince Charming doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” I shout, unable to disguise the smile as I bite my bottom lip.
I would have walked away had it not been for the smirk—that little rise in the corner of his mouth that he was oblivious to, combined with the delicious dance in his eyes.
“Wait…” He runs back to me. “Where is your phone?”
I tell him to wait, open the door and grab it off the nightstand.
Once back outside, he grabs my phone out of my hand without warning.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Shh,” he complains, distracted while typing something into my phone.
I really should put a password on my cell. In my life, I don’t think anyone has ever touched it except me.
Oliver passes it back, shooting me a wink before turning his back and walking away. “In case you ever need me,” he yells from the end of the fence.
My eyes wander to the screen, and the first name I see on my contact list, Arrogant Aussie.
Unable to hide my grin, I step back inside and head straight for the shower. Each time the soap glides against my skin, I ache in delight. No one has ever made me feel this way, and despite the back-and-forth banter, Oliver has never actually made a move. Everything I have conjured up has been in my head, and the guilt, it has begun to eat away at me again.
It’s nothing. Keep telling yourself that. This is typical male behavior. Read nothing more into it.
Dressed in my lazy white linen shorts and red tank, I slowly make my way to the kitchen. My plans today involve a visit to the local library. I am in dire need of some books to pass the time. Something about borrowing a used book is so satisfying. But my mind and thoughts are elsewhere. I grab my cell and hit dial to Sebastian, desperate to clear my guilty conscience.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he greets, his silky-smooth voice just how I remember it.
“I wanted to see how you are?”
“Not the same without you, but work is busy.”
“How was New York?”
There’s a silence in his voice. “Good. Had some client dinners.”
“Nice…” I didn’t know what else to say. This is the extent of our conversations these days. It feels forced and like catching up with a friend more than a soon-to-possibly-be fiancé.
“Everything okay, Gabriella?”
“Just tired. I’ve been running, so completely exhausted.”
“You… running?” He laughs, condescendingly. “What has California done to you? Next, you’ll become one of those plastic bitches spending Daddy’s money while carrying a dog in your purse.”
“Nothing.” I rein in my creeping resentment toward him. He knows very well that I am not like that. Okay, so I had a credit card my father paid for, but it doesn’t mean I spend it out of necessity. “I enjoy running.”
“I personally dislike California. Any state that legalizes marijuana is not a place I would want to call home.”
“It’s not like that. I mean, have you been here? People are relaxed in Hermosa Beach. It’s not like back home all suit and tie, endless functions with stuck-up senators screwing their assistants, while their wives pretend nothing is going on.”
“Quite judgmental and uncalled for, Gabriella,” he scolds. “What has gotten into you?”
“Well, it’s the truth, isn’t it?”
Silence rears its awkward head into our conversation again, and despite my outburst, I know I’m trying to deflect off the situation. I shouldn’t feel guilty meeting Oliver. Everything about us is platonic. So what if occasionally, like in the shower, my thoughts wander to an unnatural place. It’s just thoughts. I have not, nor will I, act on any feelings toward Oliver.
“Listen, I have to get to a meeting. I’ll call you tonight.”
“I’m busy,” I blurt out. “Maybe tomorrow.”
He doesn’t say another word, nor question where I’m going. He simply hangs up the phone. I slump onto the dining table, burying my face in my arms, unsure of what to do today since my trip to the library has suddenly lost all its appeal.
It’s hours until I have to meet Oliver, and the wait seems to linger on forever. I’m on edge. That call with Sebastian did nothing but put me in a bad mood, especially his comment about Daddy’s credit card and the derogatory ‘plastic bitches’ reference.