Page 14 of The Incredible Kindness of Paper
Oliver
He had just glanced up to see if he was close to the Japanese market when a woman crashed straight into him.
“Hey!”
“Oh my god, I’m sorry!” she said, at the same time grabbing his arm to steady herself.
“Watch where you’re—” But the words died on Oliver’s tongue.
Because as he looked at her, he realized who she was.
Chloe Quinn. The only girl he’d ever loved.
“I really am sorry for crashing into you,” she was saying, oblivious to his identity, perhaps because of how his cap shadowed his face. “I got distracted, and I didn’t even see you there, and…”
But Oliver wasn’t listening, because he couldn’t move.
He couldn’t summon his voice, couldn’t even be sure if his eyes were telling the truth.
It had been sixteen years since his mother had made their family flee their home in Lawrence, Kansas.
But even though that was half a lifetime ago, Oliver still would have known Chloe anywhere.
It was in the way she could never keep her dark bangs from falling into her eyes, kissing the spattering of freckles on her right cheek.
The way she bounced a little when she walked and even when she stood in one place, as if she were made of something lighter than most people—not just fifty-five percent water, but clouds.
And it was the way there was always a hint of a smile on her face, like even though the world could be cold, she was lit from within by a belief that it could still be good.
A familiar warmth trembled through Oliver’s veins as he watched the woman who had once been his favorite person in the entire universe, the one who could have been his.
Before everything fell apart. Before he shattered her heart in the cruelest of ways, such that even now, the shame of it stung like lemon in an open wound.
She looked up then, as if she felt his gaze.
Maybe she had. A long time ago, they’d been so inseparable that everyone had referred to Chloe and Oliver as a single unit—“Clover.” Back then, whatever Oliver thought, Chloe knew, and the reverse had also been true. But he couldn’t read her thoughts now.
Chloe squinted at him. “Wait. Are you…?” Then she laughed at herself. “Never mind, it’s totally impossible.” She laughed again. “I’m being silly. Ignore me.”
Oliver had a split second to decide. Stay and tell her who he was?
Or excuse himself and leave the past alone?
If he walked away, she probably wouldn’t think twice.
While she looked so much like she had when they were sixteen, the only thing the same about him were his mossy-green eyes.
Otherwise, Oliver had grown five more inches since then and put on thirty pounds of muscle.
The lines of his face were more defined now, too.
And then there were the clothes. He’d been an emo kid back then, all black hoodies and skinny jeans and choppy, dyed black hair instead of his natural auburn.
No one would expect that teenager to be clean-cut and dressed in a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu World Championship shirt and Yankees cap now.
He wanted to tell Chloe who he was; his heart leaped toward her while his brain urged him to run away. There had been a Chloe-shaped hole inside Oliver since the day they’d parted, and he ached to fill it, to be whole again.
But the past had also carved a chasm between them, and there were secrets at the bottom that were probably better left buried. Chloe deserved better than him. And he didn’t deserve her at all.
“You’re right, I don’t know you,” Oliver growled. “And watch where you’re going next time.”
Chloe made a little noise as he elbowed past her.
It was the same small squeaking sound she used to make whenever her feelings were hurt, although she didn’t know she did it.
He remembered how he used to hold her, how she said he always made her feel safe and like everything would be okay as long as they were together.
Oliver flinched at hearing her hurt now—and knowing he was the cause of it.
But still, he walked on. He ducked around the corner at 3rd Avenue and St. Marks Place. It wasn’t until he was sure Chloe had moved on that Oliver backtracked to the Japanese grocery store he had come for.