Page 12 of A Heart On A Sleeve
“How do you know Olive would even be interested, Dad? That’s right, you don’t. You’re just listening to Max’s bullshit.” My voice is thick with frustration at his meddling and judgment.
“What bullshit?” Bridget asks. Her words come out sounding curious, not accusatory, letting me know she didn’t hear the whole conversation. She wouldn’t appreciate Dad and me talking about her love life, or lack thereof.
“Oh, we were just talking about what Xav and Cami are going to have. Who waits to find out the kid’s gender these days?
” The lie comes out too easily, turning my stomach at the effortlessness of it.
If there’s one thing I don’t do, it’s lie.
I loathe it. Honesty is a virtue I live by and pursue relentlessly, but here I am again, with my third lie of the week.
My dad has taken note of just how smoothly it trickled out, raising his eyebrow in marked disappointment.
Bridget shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s so weird, right? I don’t know what to buy for the baby shower.”
“You don’t need to get them anything. I already gave them a gift from all of us,” I mutter, under my breath.
I haven’t told my parents that I used the extra money I made this year to start a college fund for the little one.
At my age, I don’t need permission for how I spend my earnings, but since I bought property a few years ago, they would worry about my finances too much if they knew.
And there are some things that just don’t need to be public knowledge.
Shaking off the uneasy feeling in my gut, I ask, “Want to walk around”? The line is forming quickly, and if we stick around here, Momma Mabel will make us dawn hairnets and start serving.
“Yeah, let’s go look at the games. Maybe you can win me a stuffed pumpkin pillow this year.” Bridget tugs on my arm, pulling me away from my parents’ booth and toward the carnival area.
I can’t help but feel Olive’s presence, even before I see her.
My eyes search, damning me to notice her perfect figure, her long, flowy strawberry blonde hair, and that smile I can’t get enough of.
Her laughter bellows out like a smooth jazz tune, calming me and pissing me off in equal measure.
I wish I was here with her, experiencing it all from her point-of-view.
Her silky voice is chattering along with the Marino sisters when I hear her say something about refusing to kiss anyone. I can’t stop a mumbled quip from slipping out against my will as we pass. “That tracks.”
She puts off the vibe that she would be too good to participate in a kissing booth—yet another reason why we probably aren’t compatible.
I used to work that booth, and something tells me she would despise it.
I hate the way my perception of her dictates what I think she will and won’t like. I’d much rather get to know her.
“What tracks?” Bridget looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, but after a quick shake of my head, she continues babbling about something Nora, our younger sister, told her.
I’m not paying attention. Thoughts of Olive kissing someone other than me, ping-pong around my brain.
She said she wasn’t going to, if I heard her correctly. Did I hear her right?
We played a few games, and as Bridg hoped, I easily won her the pumpkin pillow she coveted so much.
I’m considering it a feel-better gift after everything that went down with Jessa.
Just as I’m thinking of the devil, I spot Jessa approaching with Crystal, another girl we went to high school with and one who happens to be quite skilled at breaking up relationships these days.
“Hey, let’s step over here for a sec. We need to talk.” Nudging my sister toward the side of the street, I wedge us strategically between two booths so she won’t see her.
“What’s wrong, Sam? I know that look,” Bridget demands.
“I just thought we would get out of the way for a minute. How are things?” I am not selling this at all.
“Is it the new girl?” Her voice drops to a whisper as she asks the question.
“What?”
“Is that why we are hiding? Did you see her or something?” Bridget peers out like she’s working an episode of NCIS and might spot the killer.
“No, I just wanted to tell you what Max did last week.” I pull her back to my side and drape an arm around her shoulders, turning her so she can’t see Jessa.
“Oh God. What did that idiot do now?” she asks, as we tumble into a fit of laughter. Max is always doing something a little reckless or stupid. I could say just about anything, and she would believe it.
When we get it together, Bridget says, “Sammy, I saw her. I know you are just trying to keep me from seeing her with someone else, but I’m fine. Seriously, I am.”
I offer her a half smile, and she kisses my cheek, whispering in my ear, “If you want her, you probably shouldn’t let her kiss Max.”
The words stun me momentarily. I whip around toward the kissing booth, and sure enough, there’s Olive.
She’s leaning in, hanging on every word my little brother spews.
Tension boils beneath my skin. He knows I’m interested, even if I didn’t admit it last night.
Jealous rage isn’t an emotion I’ve ever felt until this very moment.
Shaking out my arms, I take ten self-assured strides in their direction, arriving in the nick of time to intervene.
Before I have time to think, my hand slides between their faces, lightly touching Olive’s lips as I attempt to separate them.
Watching the rage vibrate through her is a sight to behold.
Something about pissing her off turns me on, just a little.
Words are exchanged, then to no one’s surprise, she yells, stomps, and runs off with her lady gang. I didn’t expect her to actually jump into my arms and run off into the sunset with me, but I needed to stop that kiss, consequences be damned.
“Thought you weren’t interested, big brother,” Max says, coolly.
“You fucking know I am.” My finger jabs into his chest. Why the hell is his chest so built? I might break my finger from the damn concrete wall that is his muscles.
Max laughs. It starts as a slow chuckle but ends up as more of a bent-over hyena cackle. “I wasn’t actually going to do it. I planned to kiss her cheek, you know.”
“Well, even that is too close for my girl.” As I spit the words out, the realization of what I just said spreads across my face. “Shit, too far. I don’t know what she is, but she's off-limits,” I backpedal, trying to reel the words back in.
I barely even know this person, and I don’t prescribe to the whole thrill-of-the-chase thing, but it’s like a switch was flipped within me the second I laid eyes on her.
I could have been dating all these years, but instead I’ve spent my time mostly avoiding it and casually hooking up every once in a blue moon.
No one has ever measured up to the picture of love my parents painted, and I’ve accepted it. Until now.
“Jesus. Let’s grab a beer. Maddox, cover my spot,” Max hoots toward his hockey teammate, tossing an arm over my shoulder and nudging me toward the beer tent while grabbing Bridget’s hand to drag her along. What was I thinking? I should’ve stayed home.