Page 29 of Scars of Anatomy

Deal

I jump out of the car and jog up to her porch, knocking three times. It takes a few seconds for Olivia to answer.

“Hey.” She beams at me, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She’s dressed in an oversized cream sweater and black leggings, fuzzy socks on her feet. She looks so cute and cozy. “Come in.”

I walk into the house, shrugging off my jacket and hanging it on the coatrack. “Thanks. It smells amazing in here,” I observe, the smells coming from the kitchen making my mouth water and stomach growl. “Sorry I’m late,” I apologize again, cringing a little.

Olivia waves her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. We’re still cooking anyway,” she says, heading for the kitchen.

Instinctively, I follow her after greeting her dad, who is sitting in the living room watching the game, promising him I’ll join shortly.

We walk into the kitchen to find her mom opening the oven, peeking inside to check on the turkey. “I think it’s finally done,” she declares, turning to look at Olivia and spotting me. “Bronx, glad you could make it,” she exclaims.

“Thanks for having me over, Mrs. McCausland. Let me get that for you,” I insist, before she can take the turkey out herself.

“Oh, what a gentleman,” she coos, handing me the oven mitts before patting me on the back, making Olivia blush with embarrassment.

After I pull the turkey out of the oven, Olivia and her mom finish preparing the rest of the food, refusing to let me help since I’m the guest. I go and watch some of the game with Stan until dinner is ready.

Stan carves the turkey, piling a hefty portion on my plate before offering me a beer from the fridge.

Once we all fill our plates, I’m shocked to see them migrate into the living room to eat on the couch and watch TV.

Not that I’m complaining, though. To be honest, I was a little nervous they would have us file into the dining room to eat with fancy china, say grace, and go around the table to say what we’re thankful for—and I was fully prepared to answer that question by saying I was thankful to have met Olivia this year.

After dinner I help Olivia wash the dishes as her parents playfully bicker about how to stack all the leftovers in the fridge. Just as they put the last of the containers away, the doorbell rings and Olivia waltzes over to the front door to answer it.

“Cora, glad you could make it!” she exclaims, giving the woman a hug. I recognize her as the nurse Olivia had dinner with at the hospital. The one she has dinner with every Tuesday.

“Yes, I ended up getting off a little early. I hope you don’t mind,” she says sheepishly.

“Not at all,” Mrs. McCausland insists, taking Cora’s jacket and purse before also giving her a hug.

We all exchange greetings before Olivia and her mom whisk Cora off to the kitchen to make her a plate, and Stan and I head back to the living room to watch the end of the game.

Stan and I stay in the living room, giving them their girl time.

I can’t help but glance over at Olivia frequently, though, loving watching her talk and laugh with her mom and Cora, completely at ease with herself.

There’s something refreshing about observing her in her own home—not that she’s a completely different person outside of school, but it’s just nice to see her so comfortable.

“You really like her, huh?”

I quickly snap my attention to Stan, a punch of embarrassment hitting me at having him catch me staring at his daughter. “Yes, sir,” I admit. No point in denying it.

He nods, returning his gaze to the TV before taking a sip of his beer. “I’ll let you date my daughter on one condition,” he states, completely shocking me.

Nevertheless, I raise a brow, intrigued.

He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “You get me tickets to watch you boys in the playoffs.”

I huff out a relieved laugh. “I can do that. I’ll even throw in tickets to this Saturday’s game,” I add.

He tries to hide his smile by taking another sip of beer. “I always knew I liked you.”

“One condition, though,” I counter, making him raise a brow questioningly. “You bring her. Maybe teach her a thing or two about football.”

He chuckles. “Deal.”

The girls emerge from the kitchen, Mrs. McCausland clapping her hands. “Who’s ready for PJs and Christmas movies!” she exclaims excitedly.

I glance at Olivia, and she cringes sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you it’s tradition to change into pajamas after dinner and watch Christmas movies. I’m sure Dad can lend you something,” she offers.

I stand, shaking my head. “I have my gym bag out in the truck. I should have something in there.”

She smiles, relieved. “Okay, you can go grab it and change in my room,” she says, already heading up the stairs as I grab the keys and go out to the truck.

I find a pair of gym shorts and an old hoodie, and carry them up to her room. I walk in to find her bathroom door shut, and assume she’s changing in there.

I close her bedroom door, and am pulling off my sweater just as she emerges from the bathroom in a baggy shirt and pajama pants. Caught off guard, she freezes, her honey-brown eyes wide as she takes in my naked chest.

I refrain from chuckling, and take a few strides toward her. “Nice pajama pants, Finch.”

Her eyes immediately dart down to her light-blue plaid pajama pants, the tips of her ears burning pink with a blush. “Oh, uh, thanks,” she adorably stutters, pointing with her thumb over her shoulder. “You can go change in the bathroom now.”

I chuckle this time, grabbing my shorts and hoodie to quickly change out of my jeans.

I come out of the bathroom to find her standing in her closet, the hoodie I gave her homecoming night in her hands as she seems to be contemplating whether to wear it or not.

“Wear it.”

She jumps, spinning around to look at me. “Huh?”

“Wear it,” I repeat, setting my jeans on her bed before walking over to her, grabbing the hoodie, and helping her put it on. Once her head and arms are through, I pull her ponytail out of the back and drape it over her shoulder.

“There,” I say, satisfied.

She blushes, her gaze shying away from mine and fixating on the large rip at the collar of the black hoodie I’m wearing.

“Nice hoodie,” she teases, trying to fight back a smile.

Surprisingly, almost as if mesmerized, her hand reaches up, her finger lightly tracing my collarbone through the rip, making goose bumps blossom across my skin.

Any hint of a smile left on her face vanishes as I take a step closer, my chest brushing against hers. I hear her soft gasp as I plant my hands on her waist, drawing her that much closer.

With no space left between us, she lifts her chin to look up at me, and I swear I can feel her heart pounding against mine.

God I want to kiss her. But not with her parents and Cora right downstairs.

“We should probably go downstairs,” she whispers, as if reading my mind.

I nod in agreement, but neither one of us moves.

I lift my hand to cup her cheek, my thumb stroking the soft skin. Her eyes flutter shut, as if savoring the moment, and I do the same. The need to be impossibly closer to her has me leaning forward and pressing my forehead to hers, yearning to be trapped in this moment for as long as possible.

But when I hear the floor creak outside her door as someone walks by, I finally force myself to pull away and take a step back. Reaching for her hand, I lead her down the stairs to the living room, where her parents and Cora are already in their pajamas and picking out a movie.

Olivia and I take a seat on the couch and toss a blanket over ourselves, and she surprises me yet again when she curls her legs under her and hesitantly rests her head on my shoulder.

After a moment she tips her head back, looking up at me questioning if it’s okay.

Instead of replying verbally, I grab her hand under the blanket and thread our fingers together, jerking my chin in the direction of the TV.

When her gaze finally lands on the screen, I take the opportunity to tilt my head, resting my cheek on the top of her head, and she snuggles into me as the movie plays.