I take the stool next to her and rest my forearms on the table. Olivia is silent for a while as she works, taking long-stemmed flowers of different colors and poking them into the basket. I stand up from the stool and lean over the top to watch what she’s doing.
“What’s holding the flowers in place?”
“Just some foam block that I’ve taped into the bottom,” she says. “It holds water to keep the flowers fresh.”
Sitting back on the stool, I continue to watch as she tucks flowers in all around, slowly building up the arrangement until it’s nearly bursting. “It’s beautiful. You’re really talented.”
“You’re sweet,” she says as she cuts her eyes over to me. I see pure happiness in her face, and I’m wondering if it’s because she’s glad that I’m here or she really loves what she’s doing. I’m guessing the latter, although she doesn’t seem put out that I showed up announced and totally invaded her work space.
“So…tonight,” I say casually. “I was thinking about having dinner at my house.”
Olivia keeps her eyes on her work, now picking up some long green leaves and tucking them in around the outer edges of the basket. “You can cook?”
“Um…no. But we can pick something up or order in.”
“Where do you live?” she asks curiously.
“In Raleigh.”
“Gosh…I’d hate to have you take me all the way there, then have to bring me back to Chapel Hill. Makes for a really late night.”
“Easy enough to solve…just stay the night with me.”
Olivia turns and cocks an eyebrow at me. “A sleepover, huh?”
I shrug nonchalantly. “Sure…why not? I slept over at your place last night, you stay at my place tonight. We’re even.”
Chuckling, Olivia stands from the stool and steps back from the table, giving a critical eye to the arrangement. “Tell you what…I’m liking this notion of a sleepover at your place, but how about I follow you there so you don’t have to bring me back in the morning?”
“Now, that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me if I were to let you drive to our date,” I tell her.
Snickering, Olivia turns and walks up to me. Laying a hand on my knee, she says, “Is that what you’re calling this? A date?”
Her words aren’t censuring, and I get that she’s even a little amused by this notion, but I don’t want her thinking that I take her for granted. “Yes, it’s a date. It’s where two people spend time together to get to know each other. In fact, I’ll swear right now I won’t even touch you. We can put on our PJs—or get totally naked, I don’t care which—and watch movies all night, if that’s what you want.”
Olivia’s eyes get a little guarded. “Where did Garrett Samuelson, the player who wants to put notches in his bedpost, go?”
“He’s still there,” I tell her sincerely. “I’m just figuring out that maybe he wants something more than a notch with you.”
The cynic in most would say, How convenient. You’re taking a woman to your house. Kind of obvious what you have planned, dude.
And, yeah…I had planned on spending a lot of time tonight in my bed with her. But that’s not the only reason I’m bringing her to my house. My ulterior motives are not so selfish.
I invited Olivia to my house because I want to share a different part of me with her. I’ve never brought another woman that I’ve fucked over to my house. It’s private…all mine, and because my “relationships” are always so tenuous…absolutely fleeting…I never have wanted to share anything of myself before. Plus…don’t want some crazy stalker chick to know where I live.
But that’s not Olivia. While she was completely all in last night, giving me everything she had to give, and fucked me like no one else has, she wasn’t doing it because she wanted to get in good with me. She wasn’t trying to seduce me into a relationship, or find herself a hockey husband. She gave me all she had because she wanted me as much as I wanted her.
I also know that she’s not charmed by my success. She isn’t stuck on the fact I’m a professional athlete. She’s never once simpered over my star power or asked hesitant questions about my money. She seems oblivious to it all, and only wants to be with me…the person that is Garrett Samuelson. It’s nice…being desired for something other than my bank account or celebrity.
So, I figured I’m going to dive right in. I think Alex may be right…I think I might have it a little bad for Olivia. Not sure if it’s her slammin’ body, her smile, or her sweet southern accent. I can’t tell if it’s because she radiates this strange mix of happiness and sadness or if it’s just because she’s so uninhibited and passionate. Hell…maybe it’s just because I’m ready for something different and she’s the first option available to me.
“Okay…let’s compromise,” she says as she picks the basket of flowers up off the table. “Let’s have our ‘date’ at your house, but I’ll follow you over there because I have an appointment early tomorrow and I don’t want you to have to drive me back.”
“I don’t mind—” I try to assert, but she cuts me off.
“I’m driving…deal with it, buddy.”
Olivia disappears briefly into the cooler with the basket and emerges with another handful of loose flowers and greenery. She walks back up to the table and lays them in the middle.