My Only (29 page)

“You’re sticky!” she said, turning around and pressing her wet hands to my chest. “Gross,” she said as she slipped out from between my arms.

“Get away.” Olivia darted through the kitchen, and into the living room.

I was close behind her. When we got to the living room, my arms encircled her waist again. Together, we flopped down onto the couch. I landed on top of her, careful y propping myself up on the arm of the couch. I didn’t want to crush her.

I loved being close to her like this, but when I looked down I noticed that she was pale. Immediately I sat up, pul ing her up with me. I cupped her face in my hands, pushing back her hair. She was struggling a bit for breath. “Olivia?” She shook her head, twisted her body so her feet were on the floor, and bent down, head between her legs. I placed a hand at the smal of her back.

What an idiot I was! She shouldn’t be doing things like running. I shouldn’t have grabbed her like that. I was supposed to be a
good
influence on her! “Livie, I’m sorry.”

She sat back up and leaned back into me. “I’m fine, Ad. Just got dizzy.”

“But you barely even ran. It was only a few feet and . . .” She didn’t need to be reminded of the frailty of her body. I pul ed her gently toward me, resting my head on the top of hers.

We sat in silence until she asked, “I’m waiting for you to ask me.”

“Ask you what?”

“To the Spring Fling.”

“But you’re not—”

“I’l dance if I want to,” she said. “And I don’t care if we dance, I want to go. If you do, that is.” It took less than a second for me to decide. “Of course. Do you think your grandparents wil let you go?”

“If you convince them that you’l make me be good,” she said.

“Wil you be good?” I asked. I needed convincing, too. If she danced like she did at the concert, things could get real y bad. She nodded. “I don’t believe you.”

Olivia held up her right hand and pasted a super-serious expression on her face. “I swear! I just want to get al dressed up and go somewhere with you.”

I had to admit, it sounded nice. I imagined her in a pretty dress, slow-dancing with me, her head on my chest. “Should we go out to dinner, too?” She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue. “Name a vegan restaurant in town.” I felt triumphant. I’d actual y done some research into this, and was excited to share the information. “The new Thai restaurant has a bunch of vegan options.”

Olivia, obviously feeling better, got up onto her knees. With her hands on my shoulders, she leaned in and kissed me. “It’s a date,” she whispered.

I wasted no time asking her grandparents if I could take her.

She worked Sunday night, and I didn’t so I took the opportunity to visit with the Cartwrights. After I’d gathered enough nerve to knock on their door, the rest was easy. I was a very logical person and I assumed her grandparents were, too. Her grandmother was a bit more emotional, but I was sure her grandfather could balance the scales.

Sitting in the living room, surrounded by al of the things the Cartwrights had col ected over the course of their lives, I felt a sense of calm settle over me. It felt amazing to just be able to talk and not worry about what they were going to think. I had absolute confidence that I’d be al owed to take her to the dance.

I started off by thanking them for letting me date Olivia and I launched into my campaign. “I know how you feel about her exerting herself too much, and I want to let you know that I feel the same way. That being said, I’d like to take her to the dance next Saturday.”

“No,” was Mrs. Cartwright’s response.

Then Mr. Cartwright said, “Now, Maggie, let the boy finish.”

“It’s being held at the gym, so it won’t be like the concert where we’re out of the city. The hospital is only two blocks away—not that we’l need it.

But she real y wants to go and she said she didn’t even care if we danced. She just wanted to get dressed up and do something special. I give you my word I won’t let her do anything dangerous.”

“She’l need to be home by one,” Mr. Cartwright said.

“Andrew!”

Both Mr. Cartwright and I looked at Mrs. Cartwright. She looked shocked, which was exactly how I felt. I couldn’t believe that he’d just given in like that. I had thought it would be more difficult.

I stopped staring at Olivia’s grandmother and flicked my eyes between the husband and wife. There was some kind of silent discussion going on. I thought only twins did that. Obviously, I was wrong.

Final y, Mrs. Cartwright’s face softened. “Fine. But you’l bring her home by twelve thirty, and you have her cal us by nine to check in.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you’l promise that you won’t indulge her in her recklessness. No fast dancing, no parties, nothing that wil stress her heart.”

“I swear.”

“She’s our only grandchild, you know.”

“I know.” As I walked to the door, I said, “Thank you, I promise she’l be fine.” The week seemed to fly by, especial y after I told Olivia I’d gotten her grandparents’ blessing to take her to the dance. I’d never known she was so girly. For the next four days, we spoke of almost nothing else besides dance-appropriate clothing—suits, dresses, skirts and shirt combos, shoes, flowers, and hairdos.

My first instinct was to zone al of it out. I wasn’t quite sure if I cared what color dress she wore, even if it impacted the color of my tie. Then I realized that regardless of whether I truly did care,
Olivia
did. And if she cared, I shouldn’t be so blasé about it. I didn’t make any of the decisions. I left that to her since she so obviously wanted to make them, but I wasn’t mental y absent during the discussion and I offered my opinions when she wanted them. Sometimes she didn’t take them—like the case of which color she should wear. I thought lavender, but she decided emerald green.

Sometimes she went with my choice—like the case of her hair up or down. She wanted to do something that swept her hair up, leaving just little strands hanging down around her neck and shoulders. I wanted her hair down. As soon as I told her it was because I loved running my fingers through it, my choice won out.

I had to ask Aaron what type of flowers to get her. I didn’t know if the Spring Fling was something you bought corsages for or if that was only for the more formal dances like Homecoming and Prom. Once he said I needed to buy something, I began to ask him other questions. She was wearing a green strappy dress. How would she put a flower on that?

I ended up going to the florist with him. He was going with Maya Conway. He’d wanted to go out with her for a long time. It was actual y the longest amount of time I’d seen him interested in a girl. It was too bad that he just asked her out a few months before he’d move away for col ege.

I got Olivia a wrist corsage. I thought it’d be annoying to have that thing strapped to your wrist al night, but Aaron said most girls liked those better anyway. He helped me pick out one that involved white orchids with pale purple in the middle, white beads, and emerald ribbons. It was a bit expensive, but there wasn’t much I spent my money on anyway.

Plus, I knew Olivia would love it.

Before we left the shop, my twin turned to me. “I apologized to her, you know.”

I nodded, but kept my mouth shut. I guessed it made him a little bit better of a person now that he acknowledged what he’d done, but stil , I couldn’t understand why he’d cheat on someone as awesome as Livie.

When he continued to stare at me, I figured he wanted some kind of verbal sign that I heard him, so I said, “Yeah. She told me. That was cool of you.”

That was al it took for us to move on.

I had Aaron take me out driving an hour every day after school. I’d gotten my permit, so I was perfectly legal; I just hadn’t gone to the DMV to take the tests.

The Saturday of the dance Olivia was busy al day. I didn’t get to see her at al . It seemed pretty sil y to waste an entire day by being apart, but via text messages she assured me that it was important for her to have time to get ready. Despite those texts, I stil thought it was a waste of a day we could’ve spent together. I could watch her get her nails done. It wouldn’t have affected the mystique of Olivia Cartwright in my eyes.

At five, I headed over to the Cartwrights’. Olivia’s grandfather let me in. Despite him being a driving force in al owing us to go, I was stil intimidated by him. We sat in the living room together, the television on, but muted. I felt uncomfortable in my suit and tie, but hoped Olivia thought I looked nice. The clear clamshel box with the corsage rested on my knees.

He wasn’t staring at me. In fact, he wasn’t looking at me at al . He was reading a magazine. Mr. Cartwright stood up when we heard, “Okay,” coming from the steps. It was Mrs. Cartwright’s voice. Moving back to the foyer, I looked up and saw her coming down very slowly, wobbling a little.

Helping Olivia get ready must have been important to get her upstairs.

Suddenly, I was a bit nervous. Apparently tonight was a big thing and I worried that I wasn’t going to do enough or be enough to ensure Olivia had a good time.

Just like out of a scene from a movie, as soon as her grandmother moved out of the way, Olivia appeared at the top of the stairs and started walking down. Now I understood what those films were trying to portray. My heart was thumping and my breath was racing. I couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. The dress was the perfect dress—long and loosely draping over al the right parts, while a bit snug on al the other right parts.

I took a step forward and held out my hand. She took it. The feel of her skin sent bolts of energy coursing through me. It felt insane and exciting.

When our eyes met, she nibbled on her lower lip. “Stop looking at me like that,” she whispered.

“I can’t.” I could barely say it. I could barely breathe. I wanted to look at her for the rest of my life. Reaching a hand up, I ran just the tips of my fingers through her hair. Most of it was down, but just a few strands were pul ed up away from her face. It was the perfect hair for the perfect dress, worn by the perfect girl.

“You look handsome,” she said.

“Thanks. You look fantastic.”

Now, Olivia blushed. “Thanks.”

“Here,” I said, holding the box out to her. Remembering what Aaron said, I took out the corsage myself and held the loop open for her. She slid her delicate wrist into it. The look on her face made the price tag of the orchids seem cheap. I would’ve paid double to make her this happy.

Soon after, her grandmother took control. We were positioned at the bottom of the stairs for photos then moved around to the door for more pictures.

It was warmer than it usual y was in the spring, but I helped Olivia with her shawl.

As we were leaving, Mr. Cartwright gave me a hard look. “Be careful.”

It was such a simple, wel -used phrase, but there was a deeper meaning in it.

Mr. Cartwright wasn’t stupid either. I was sure he knew what kids got up to after dances. Drinking, more dancing . . .
sex
.

There was no denying that I wanted to make love with her tonight. She looked beautiful and sexy, but I wanted him to know that I would never do anything to hurt her or jeopardize her health and safety. I loved her.

“We wil be,” I said as I took her hand.

Her skin was gorgeous and glowed. I wanted nothing more than to touch her, but it would have to wait. Her grandparents were watching us. She threaded her arm through the crook of mine and we descended the porch steps. As we got to her little Toyota, I led her to the passenger side. Olivia looked up at me, a suspecting little smile dancing upon her lips.

Plucking the keys from her hand, I bent to unlock the door. I helped her inside, the way gentlemen do in al the movies. When I got in and started the car, Olivia laughed. “Show off.”

As I pul ed away from the curb, I casual y agreed, “Maybe.”

It didn’t take long to get to the restaurant. It never took long to get to any place in Lakeside. When we got there, I hurried around to her side and opened her door. Again, she looked impressed with how proper I was being. There was a fine line between being proper and being plain sil y. I wasn’t sure which side I was on. “My dad gave me a bunch of advice before I left the house.” Taking a moment to just look at her, the now-familiar bubbling sensation of excitement in my bel y tugged at me. I didn’t want to move. This was the perfect moment. She was happy. I was thril ed. I knew we had to go to the dance—we were committed now, but I wanted to steal her away from it al and have her for myself.

With one step, I brought myself close to her, pressing our bodies together as I cupped her face. I kissed her, bringing my hands up, fingers tangling in her hair. Her hands moved to my waist and gently pressed against me. Her lips opened slightly. I ran the tip of my tongue along the top of her bottom lip. It was al that needed to happen to deepen the kiss. Olivia was leaning back against the car. My hands moved down her shoulders and arms until I was holding her body. I loved the curve that flowed between her breasts and her hips. The little dip was fascinating and sexy.

The whole thing was sexy.

But I couldn’t do what I wanted to do in broad daylight, outside the little restaurant. I ended the kiss, slowly pul ing back, letting my tongue touch her lip for just a moment before I stood up straight.

“Wow,” she said, sounding a bit winded. I took her hand. After two steps toward the restaurant, she asked, “Did your dad give you advice on that?”

I looked down and shook my head. “Nope. No advice needed on that one. That was an Olivia-inspired kiss. If the dance is lame, I’l show you what else you inspire me to do.”

We enjoyed a nice dinner and when we got to the gym, I realized that the dance wasn’t lame at al . Olivia’s eyes sparkled in the twinkling lights that were supposed to mimic the stars. She was by far the prettiest girl there. The music was the normal dance music—a mixture of slow and fast-tempo modern songs. Some I knew, others I didn’t.

She didn’t even try to pul me onto the dance floor for the fast songs. We only danced to the slow ones. I wasn’t sure there was anything better in the world than having her in my arms, her head against my chest.