"It's what you said," he says.
"The platinum. It made them think… I guess they watch too much porn."
He nods yeah, I see that. "So this." He reaches out. Brushes a stray hair behind my ear. "Is all because a bunch of assholes thought you'd happily drop to your knees?"
"Kind of."
He smiles, amused. "I like it." His fingers trail my cheek. My chin. "Brings out your eyes. Your jaw. Your neck." He pulls his hand back. "It's sexy."
I swallow hard.
"And it suits you." His eyes bore into mine. "Guess I should find one of those assholes. Thank him."
"Oh my god." I push him again. Harder this time.
He grabs my arm. His fingers curl around my wrist. He looks down at me. For a second, he pauses. Just stares at me.
For a second, I pause. Just stare back at him.
He's so handsome. And so close. And so kissable.
I never thought that about Oliver. But he is.
Sexy and difficult and kissable as fuck.
I suck a breath through my nose. Push an exhale through my teeth.
Jump at the sound of a familiar voice.
"Luna? Is that you?" the voice asks.
Shit.
Oliver turns to face Sean. Ollie shakes his head I hate this asshole. But he smiles. "Sean, good to see you."
I clear my throat. Stand. Move away from the magnetic energy compelling me to kiss Ollie. "It's uh, good to see you."
"Oh, so you and Oliver…" Sean raises a brow. "How interesting. I wouldn't think he's your type."
"Oh, we're just…" I motion to Oliver, asking him to finish my sentence. "We're…"
He smiles at Sean and says. "We're madly in love."
Chapter Fourteen
Luna
Sean forces a smile. "Wow, really. I can't believe it." He offers his hand.
Oliver stands. Shakes with a firm grip. "You look good. You lose weight?" He smiles in a knowing way. Knowing it annoys Sean.
Sean is always trying to get built. Or he was when we were together. I haven't seen him in months. Who knows what he's doing.
In fact—
"What are you doing here?" I ask.
Sean looks at me funny. "Buying furniture."
"Isn't it a little… not your style?" I fail to find a polite way to say we both know you think Ikea is beneath you. Sure, Sean is a yuppie in training, down to the khakis, polo shirt, and single visible tattoo. But he never tires of reminding people his parents could buy theirs.
"My girlfriend loves it," he says.
"Your girlfriend?" Oliver asks.
Sean nods. "She's at the cafe. Grabbing coffee."
"Extra cream and sugar?" I ask.
"Of course." His smile stays forced. His light eyes stay smug. "You going to Patrick's birthday?"
"Huh?" I think Patrick works at the shop.
"He did that, right?" Oliver motions to the tattoo on Sean's forearm. An anchor with carpe diem on the ribbon. "It's pretty badass." He looks at me and raises a brow.
Somehow, that gets across his intention. Patrick sure did what he could with that lame as fuck quote. Are you one hundred percent cliché or just mostly cliché?
I guess Oliver really doesn't like Sean. He's always been a little irritated by Sean. Even when we were dating.
Because of how Sean treats me? Or something else?
There's plenty to hate.
Sean is spoiled, condescending, oblivious to other people's needs.
It's just… he's also handsome, smart, witty, and incredibly charming.
It took a while to realize there wasn't much beyond spoiled rich boy besides spoiled rich boy.
"Yeah. Thanks." Sean smiles. "So how long have you two… you're Daisy's brother, right?"
"Not long enough if you ask me." Oliver slides his arm around my waist. "You know Luna. She's a fucking dream."
"Uh-huh," Sean says.
"It's new," I say. "And, yes, he is. Daisy's at Berkeley. Remember?"
Sean's eyes turn down for a second. He always wanted to go to USC—it's the family school—but he still applied to Berkeley. And he still cursed the UCs for not recognizing his brilliance. "Of course. And how's your semester going? Besides your football team losing to ours?"
"Yeah. Go Bruins." I make a fake rah chant. As much as I love swimming, and participating in competitive swimming, I don't really care about other sports. Especially ones Sean enjoys. "Between my chem lab, European history, and Microeconomic Theory, I'm really busy."
"Really? You're taking an economics class?" He looks at me like I'm crazy.
"Yeah, who would imagine, the woman with a CEO mother might learn about money," Oliver says.
Sean lets out a fake laugh. "Right, yeah." He looks toward the stairs. The ones that lead up to the cafe.
"Need that coffee, huh?" Oliver asks.
"One of those days." Sean forces a smile. "I guess I don't have to tell you how Luna loves coffee."
Oliver nods. "I love it too. In fact, I think we should grab some." He pulls me a little closer. "What do you think, angel? You want some coffee?"
Angel. "Sure, yeah." Angel.
Fuck, it sounds good on his lips. It does something to me. To my chest, my sex, my legs.
They're not moving. They're stuck together. They're barely holding me up.
"You cold?" Oliver makes a show of running his hand over my side. "You're shivering."
"Oh. Okay." Conscious thought flees my brain.
Oliver slips his jacket off his shoulders. Hangs it over mine. "Better?"
It smells like him. It's so warm and heavy and safe. "Yeah. Better. Coffee?"
Sean nods. "I'll walk with you. See what Missy is up to."
Oliver shoots me a look. Of course, that's her name.
He motions after you. Presses his palm into my back as he leads me up the stairs.
Sean follows.
Somehow, I move. One step. Two. Three.
We make it to the cafe.
It's wide and bright and airy. And totally free of a woman Sean's age who isn't done with his bullshit.
Sean checks his cell. "She's in the bathroom. Loves to fix her makeup. A lot like you."
"Uh-huh." I try to ignore his women, huh tone.
He refuses to drop it. "You look good, Luna. Still dressed to kill."
"Thanks." I know it's not a compliment, but I take it as one anyway.
"And your hair," he says. "The silver suits you. And it looks good short too. Probably less high-maintenance."
Anyone listening would think he's doling out compliments. But I know better.
I know what he means: Are you ever going to grow up? Act like a lady. Dress like a lady.
Of course, I had to dump you. I can't deal with a woman who's so much. Can't you do one thing normally? One time?
Do you really have to ask so much at every opportunity?
It's just hair, for fuck's sake! Do something normal with it! You really think this punk rock pixie thing is cute?