“Then why won’t you let me look in there?”
“Because what’s in my dresser is none of your business. Get out of my room.”
I hold my ground, one hand on the drawer, and my eyes on him, daring him to stop me. After a short battle of wills that gets us nowhere, I take a step closer to him. He stays put, even as I bring the front of my body within an inch of his. His face remains serious as I bring my hands closer to his hips. He watches me, unmoving, waiting to see what I’m doing. His throat bobs up and down as my fingers make contact with his waist. I’m surprised he hasn’t pushed me off of him yet.
When he’s least expecting it, I pull the drawer open and grab the first thing I see: a notebook. I take it and run to the other side of his room before he realizes what I have.
“Is this what you were hiding?” I ask.
He looks at his drawer with a frown, then spots the notebook in my hands. He dives toward me, but I already have the notebook open on some page in the middle. There’s some kind of handwritten message. It’s a story, or maybe a poem. I only have time to read one single line in the middle of the page:Eyes like dark chocolate.
He snatches the notebook out of my hands and closes it. His face is red.
“What is that?” I ask, laughing.
He doesn’t look amused. “How much did you read?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Not much, but… whose eyes are you eating?” I laugh again. “Was that a poem? Did you write that?”
I didn’t know it was possible, but his face turns even redder. “I told you not to open that drawer.”
“You also told me you would let me know when Ryan plans to propose and now you’ve backed out,” I remind him. “I figured you must mean the opposite of whatever you say.”
He goes to his dresser and drops the notebook back inside, then closes the drawer and stands in front of it.
“Come on,” I beg. “Let me read a little more.”
He crosses his arms. “No.”
“Okay. Then help me stop Ryan. You promised you would.”
He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t promise I would help. I never should have said anything. You’re getting way too involved and…”
He stops himself, but we both know what he wants to say.Obsessive.My skin prickles. I feel hot.
“Whatever Ryan has planned can’t possibly be as good as Tina’s plan,” I tell him. “I’ve already put so much time into this. I mean, come on. A basketball game?”
Oliver smirks. “Why should I care? I guess I’m not as invested in this as you are.”
I’m so frustrated I could growl. I want to believe that he cares more than he’s letting on and he’s just being stubborn.
“Because he’s your best friend,” I remind him. “And you’re friends with Tina, too. Don’t you want them both to be happy? She doesn’t even have the right manicure to show off the ring.”
He rolls his eyes. “I don’t think anyone is going to care what color her nails are painted.”
I hold my hand out to show him my nails. “This is what she got.”
He frowns, looking at my fingers. His eyes go wide. “Is that sperm?”
“What? No!” I take my hand back, holding it with my other hand like it’s been tainted by his words. “These are ghosts.”
I look at my nails to confirm that they look the same as they did when I left the salon a couple days ago. They’re still the same ghosts. Except… wait. I gasp. “Oh no.”
How did I not see this before? The little white ghosts against the black background look just like sperm.
“Are you kidding me? These are supposed to be ghosts.” I slap my palm over my face. “No wonder my accountant was terrified of me. I can’t believe Tina didn’t notice either.”
Oliver raises an eyebrow. “Tina got the same thing on her nails?”
