Finding Olivia (Trace + Olivia #1) (9 page)

I took a deep breath before I had a panic attack.

I used to have them all the time as a child but I had grown out of them. Now, would be the worst time
ever
for them to return.

The door to the bathroom opened, steam billowing out, effectively cutting off my internal tirade.

Droplets of water clung to Trace’s dark hair, making it appear black instead of brown. He’d shaved, but short prickly stubbles of hair still remained. I liked that he was never clean-shaven. I always thought that the guys with smooth cheeks looked babyish.

“I’m ready,” he announced, running his fingers through is hair rapidly, trying to dry it.

“Okay,” I stood, running my hands down the front of my jeans.

He locked the apartment behind us and led me to his car.

“I can drive,” I pointed to my car.

“Nice try,” he grinned, “but I’d have to tell you where we’re going and that’s not going to happen.”

“Fine,” I slid into his car. “I don’t care.” Which was a lie. I did care, very much. It seemed completely unfair that he wouldn’t tell me where we were going. But I knew there was no point in arguing with him.

He hadn’t driven far
, when he stopped in front of a small building, in the old part of town.

“That was fast,” I looked up at the building, reading the sign.

It was an art gallery.

“I’
m learning to paint?” I grinned, excitedly.

“Yeah,” he eased out of the car and jogged around to open my door.

“This is going to be so much more fun than roller skating!” I squealed and Trace chuckled in response.

★★★

“I suck at this!” I exclaimed, causing the other people in the room to turn, and glare at me.

It was mostly older people there
, aside from Trace and me.

“It’s not that bad,” Trace glanced from his canvas to mine.

“It looks nothing like it!” I pointed to the purple blob I had painted and to the purple vase it was supposed to look like. “Yours looks good compared to mine!”

Which was pretty sad, because his sucked too.

“You can’t expect to learn to paint in one evening,” the teacher breezed over to me. She looked at what I had done and wrinkled her nose. “Then again, there are those who can
never
learn.”

“I take it I’m in the never category?” I huffed.

She didn’t bother to answer.

I tried to pretty up the mess I had made on my canvas but it was hopeless. Completely and utterly hopeless. It was obvious I didn’t have an artsy bone in my body. At least
, when it came to painting and drawing…I could write pretty well. But then again, it was impossible to judge yourself.

I was tempted to say, ‘
Screw it, let’s get out of here,’ but I knew that wouldn’t fly with Trace.

Plus, he was completely engrossed in talking with the old man beside him. Apparently, the man had served in one of the wars and was telling a curious Trace all about it.

I cleaned my paintbrushes off and then placed the canvas on a drying rack.

“You done?” Trace asked when I sat back down on the stool.

“Yeah,” I sighed grumpily. “I’m never going anywhere near a paintbrush again. I’m an insult to artists everywhere.”

Trace chuckled. “That’s not true and this is only a beginner’s class. I think you’re supposed to suck.”

I frowned.

“Olivia,” Trace swiveled in his stool to face me and leaned down to my level. “You don’t have to be perfect. It’s okay to suck at things.”

His words were like a stab straight to my heart, even though he hadn’t meant them that way.

He was right. I didn’t have to be perfect. But when you’ve been striving for perfection
, all your life, it’s hard to let it go.

“Hey,” Trace whispered, lifting my chin up. “Don’t be sad. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or anything.”

“I know,” I mumbled. “And you’re right. I don’t have to be perfect but with my dad…”

“You’ve always tried to be,” he added. “It’s okay to mess up though, Olivia. I thought you wanted to live? You can’t live if you don’t mess up. Life’s all about mistakes, and sometimes
, those things you
think
are mistakes, turn out to be the thing you were searching for.”

I nodded at his words. They made sense
.

“Life isn’t about perfection,” he added, “perfection doesn’t exist.”

“I know,” I replied, playing with the ends of my hair.

“Do you?” He questioned,
his green eyes studying me. “Because I’m not sure you do.”

★★★

I kept turning Trace’s words over in my mind.

I
knew
that perfection didn’t exist, but since my dad had always expected it, I strived for it.

My list was supposed to be my chance to make mistakes, so why was I holding myself back?

I
wanted
to mess things up, and live a little, but when you had worked so hard to be perfect, for so long, it was hard to let that go.

But I was going to, because if I didn’t, I would never find the
real
Olivia Owens.

We were back in the car but we hadn’t pulled away from the building.

“You may not be the next Picasso,” Trace grinned, causing me to smile in response, “but you tried, and that’s what really matters.”

He pulled a pen and piece of paper out of his pocket.

I quickly realized it was my list.

He
carefully unfolded it and held the crinkled piece of paper out to me, along with the pen.

“Would you like to do the honor
?” He asked, eyes sparkling.

I didn’t bother to reply, I took both items from his hands, crossing of
f smoking and learning how to paint.

My Live List

1.
       
Get drunk

2.
      
Fly in a hot air balloon

3.
      
Go to the carnival

4.
     
Go to a concert (even if it’s someone I’ve never heard of)

5.
      
Go to a party

6.
      
Lose my virginity

7.
      
Dance in the rain

8.
     
Go roller skating

9.
      
See the ocean

10.
   
Learn to paint

11.
    
Get a dog…or a cat…or a rabbit. Any pet will do.

12.
   
Sing in front of real people. Avery doesn’t count.

13.
   
Make more friends

14.
  
Shoot a gun

15.
   
Smoke

16.
   
Get a tattoo

17.
   
Learn to pole dance

18.
  
Go skinny dipping

19.
   
Pierce my belly button

20.
  
Fall in love

It was so rewarding seeing two more things get crossed off my list. I had been too scared to do them on my own. But with Trace’s help, it was finally happening.

I was living.

c h a p t e r

Eight

“We’re going out,” Avery announced, bouncing into our dorm room.

“No,” I responded, even though it hadn’t been a question.

“Yes, we are,” she sang, stripping off her clothes, and changing into clean ones. “Luca invited me to go out and he said Trace would be there, so you’re going.”

I perked up at Trace’s name but I had a pile of homework. The professors were laying it on thick before Thanksgiving break.

“I can’t,” I frowned.

Avery sauntered over to me. She reached out and tweaked the corners of my lips up. “Stop frowning, it doesn’t suit you. Instead, smile and say, ‘Yes, Avery, I’ll go out with you, Luca, and Trace.’”

“I
have
to get this homework done,” I whined.

“It’s not like it’s going anywhere. Do it tomorrow,” she shrugged, padding back across the small room
, to her closet and flicking through the various items.

“And that’s the kind of philosophy that gets
people in trouble,” I commented, pointing a finger at her turned back.

“Livie,” she pleaded, “please, for me?” She begged.

I sighed. I
had
been spending a lot of time with Trace and even though, we’d be out with the guys, Avery would be there. “Fine,” I conceded. “But I want to know where we’re going.”

“Just out to eat,
I think Luca said he wanted to go to B-Dubs,” she shrugged, with a flip of her hand, “so that’s why you have to go.”

“Oh, I see,” I laughed. “Luca invited Trace so it wouldn’t be a date. But if I tag along, then it makes it a double date.”

“Exactly,” she smirked.

“You play dirty
, Avery Callahan,” I shook my head. “Poor Luca doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.”

Avery laughed, throwing her head back.
“You’ve got that right,” she winked.

I closed my laptop with a sigh and changed into something more presentable than sweatpants.

I ended up in a pair of jeans and a red sweater. Avery eyed me disapprovingly.

“What?” I squawked. “There’s nothing wrong with this!”

Avery rolled her eyes, crossed her arms over her chest, and looked me up and down. “It’s just so…boring.”

“You’re the one that’s dragging me away from homework which I
need
to do. I’m sorry if I’m not very concerned with how I look,” I snapped.

“
Please
, make an effort Livie. Trace is going to be there, and you don’t want to go walking into the restaurant, covered up like that,” she gave me pleading puppy dog eyes.

“It’s
cold
outside and I want to wear a sweater. What’s wrong with that? At least it’s not a sweatshirt,” I snapped. “I’m not going to be walking around in booty shorts when there’s frost on the ground in the mornings.” Avery lit up, so I quickly added, “And I won’t be wearing booty shorts in the summer…or
ever
for that matter.”

Avery frowned. “But you don’t always have to wear jeans and a sweater when it’s cold outside. There are other options. Please, let me dress you,” she pleaded, pouting her bottom lip.

“Fine,” I groaned, stripping off my sweater, and throwing it at her head.

“Thank you!” She shrieked, running across the room to her closet.

“Would you like to lay out clothes for me to wear in the morning, mother?” I snarled.

She laughed. “Maybe I should. You always look fabulous when I dress you,” she said flippantly, but with a grin. “Change into these,” she tossed a pair of black skinny jeans my way.

I made a face of disgust. I
loathed
skinny jeans.

“Olivia,” Avery sco
lded, looking over her shoulder, noticing my scowl. “Put the pants on before I force you to the ground and do it myself,” she narrowed her dark green eyes at me.

I knew she would. Avery was a woman of her word.

Reluctantly, I removed my jeans, and wiggled into the skinny jeans. I was really beginning to hate having a roommate that was the same size as me.

But then, when I turned
, and saw the way the jeans hugged my curves, all hate was forgotten.

“Nice, huh?” Avery smirked, studying my reaction.

I groaned at being caught smiling. “They’re okay.”

“You’re such a liar. Don’t liars go to Hell?” She grinned saucily.