Waking Olivia(22)

32





Olivia



At first, I refuse. The idea of Dorothy being the victim of my craziness  when I'm not even aware of what's happening horrifies me. Eventually,  he convinces me by promising that he'll be in the adjoining room and his  mother will make no effort to stop me. I appreciate what they're doing  for me, I really do, but it still blows to have the rest of the team  think I'm rooming with Dorothy because of my bad reputation.

"That completely sucks," says Erin. "You started one fight. That doesn't mean you need a chaperone."

"It doesn't matter," I sigh. "It's not like we were going to sit around braiding each other's hair and talking about boys."

"I'd planned to braid yours." She grins. "And I always talk about boys."

I half-smirk. "Then maybe I'm glad I'm rooming with Mrs. Langstrom."



Brofton plants his cocky ass beside me that morning on the bus, edging  out Reed Loughlin, who'd just asked if the seat was free. And that's  fine. I have no problem putting an asshole like Brofton in his place,  but I'm worried Reed's got a little crush, and that's harder to deal  with.

"Heard you're staying with Will's mom," smirks Brofton. "So we'll need to be really quiet when I come to your room."

"If you were in my room, I guarantee I'd be quiet. I'd probably sleep right through it."

"Keep giving me something to prove, Finn. It's just going to make it that much better when you're screaming my name."

"Only thing I'd be screaming for with you is a magnifying glass," I  reply. Reed and Erin crack up, but Will's shoulders tense, which tells  me he's listening and he's not happy. Fuck him. I'm not a nun. I didn't  take an oath of celibacy to be on this team.

Fortunately for Will, Reed changes the subject. "Are your parents coming in, Finn?" he asks.

Before I can answer, Betsy chimes in. "Finn's parents never come. I guess they like her about as much as everyone else does."

"I'm surprised your parents bother," I retort, "seeing as how you've never placed."

"That's enough," Will intones without ever turning his head. I don't  appreciate him intervening like he's our fucking dad, but I'm consoled  by how pissed off Betsy looks right now. I give her a big grin and shoot  her the finger before I turn around in my seat.



When we arrive, Erin's parents are waiting with their wide smiles and  their bright eyes. I want to resent it, but oddly I don't. I like Erin.  I'm jealous, yes, but I still wouldn't want to take this away from her. I  know that somewhere deep inside I've looked at these situations and  felt that something was taken from me, as if every set of proud,  involved parents could have been mine if they didn't belong to someone  else, as ridiculous as that is. But even if it were true, I would never  want Erin to be alone like me. She's too sweet, too soft. If one of us  had to draw a short straw, it's best that it was me.

Her parents invite me out to dinner with them. I agree, feeling oddly  chagrined that I won't be eating with Dorothy and Will, which makes  absolutely no sense. Why would I want to eat with my dickhead coach and  his mother for Christ's sake? I shower and blow out my hair, put on a  little make-up, skinny jeans, and my favorite royal blue blouse.

"Don't you look cute?" Dorothy smiles. "Where are you off to?"

Just then, Will knocks on the door. His face seems to empty, go blank,  for a moment, as he looks at me, as if he didn't expect to find me here  at all. "You guys ready to go to dinner?" he asks.

"Erin invited me to go out to eat with her and her parents."

His mouth goes into a tight line. "Not happening."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I don't trust you enough to let you go to dinner with Erin."

"Seriously?" I snap. "How much trouble do you think I can get into between here and Erin's room?"

"Plenty," he retorts, "but that's not what I'm concerned about. I don't trust you to eat."

"I'll eat. I don't need a babysitter."

"I had to force feed you last week. But suddenly you've got it all under control?"                       
       
           


///
       

"If I'm telling you I'll eat, I'll eat."

"Fine, I'll give you two choices. One, you tell Erin I said you couldn't  go. Or two, you write down every bite of food you put in your mouth and  Erin's parents come here personally and vouch for the fact that it's  true."

"Will," his mother says softly.

"No, Mom," he snaps. "Do not take her side. I've had to watch her pass  out one too many times and I'm not watching it tomorrow too."

When the door slams behind him I turn, jaw agape, to Dorothy. I'm livid,  and I expect to her to be as well. But she's got a small smile on her  face instead, the kind people get when they're looking at a puppy or a  newborn.

"You support this?" I demand. "He's being completely unreasonable! You can't possibly think he's right?"

"No," she says, "but I think he cares. And it's been a long time since I've seen my boy care about anything."

Something seems to flip in my stomach at her words, nauseating and  hopeful at once, but I cling to my anger instead. I know well enough  that feeling hopeful about anything is always a dead end.





33





Will



I'm not sure why I did it. I guess I just assumed she'd be eating with  us. And when I saw her all dressed up and discovered she had other  plans, I was weirdly  –  I don't know exactly what it was. Angry?  Disappointed?

Whatever it was, it was illogical and I should have gone about it  another way. I could have insisted that she eat a decent breakfast, or  even have a snack when she came back to the room, but instead I behaved  like a controlling dick, which has led us to the present moment: a  dinner where Peter and my mother chitchat away while Olivia and I scowl  at each other across the table in silence.

I stop her before she goes into my mother's room when the meal is over. "I'm sorry," I tell her.

"For what?" she demands.

"Tonight. I was out of line and I should have handled it better."

Her eyes flutter open in surprise, and then her mouth turns down at the  corners unhappily and she looks away. Her awkwardness is something I  could easily have predicted. When she feels threatened or mistreated, no  one is more sure on their feet than Olivia, but show her the smallest  amount of kindness and it's as if she's on a foreign planet.

It's still fairly early but my mom keeps farm hours  –  a prompt bedtime,  up before the sun. She'll want to sleep soon but Olivia is far too  nervous about tomorrow to lie down just yet.

I go to our shared door. My mother isn't there, so she must be in the  bathroom. "My mom goes to bed pretty early, so I guess you can watch TV  in here," I sigh.

"Don't do me any favors," she says with a roll of her eyes. "You make it sound like I'm someone's pet ferret you have to watch."

"Olivia, it's not that, it's just  … " I stop and pinch the bridge of my nose. "I don't like breaking the rules."

"There's a rule against watching TV?"

"In my room?" I laugh. "Yeah, there's a rule."

She follows me and stretches out in the double bed beside mine. We end  up watching the last 45 minutes of some movie I'm completely incapable  of focusing on. There are a lot of explosions, which I'm a fan of, but  every time she moves I grow aware of her to the exclusion of all else.

She changed into a T-shirt and shorts earlier, so I can't get her  endless legs out of my peripheral view, no matter which direction I  shift. And then she moves, and her T-shirt rides up, revealing a swath  of toned stomach and I have to stifle a groan.

I had it pretty easy in high school and college. If I wanted something  from a girl, I almost always got it. This must be my karmic payback,  because I don't think I've ever wanted something quite this much, yet  I'm absolutely not allowed to have it.

When the movie ends, some trivia show comes on and we watch that too.  The guy walks away with over $500,000, even though Olivia and I answered  the questions before he did.

"We totally could've taken him," she says sleepily, rolling over on the  pillow to face me. Her shirt rides up again and it takes almost  superhuman restraint not to look.

"Maybe you should go on game shows if the running thing doesn't work out."

She smiles. "Maybe I will."

"What would you do if you won that money?"

"Spend it all on hookers and blow."

"No, seriously, what would you do? Would you stay in school? Would you keep running?"

She's quiet for so long that I begin to think she won't answer. "I'd find my brother," she finally says.

Her words take my insides and twist them in a tight grip. I don't want  to know this. I don't want to know anything more about the soft side of  Olivia than I do at the moment. I already know far too much.