“You’re amazing,”he praises, his voice warm and almost a purr. “You don’t know how much I appreciate you, Blair. Thanks for not dropping out of photography.” There’s something else there. Something strange and deeper than just an acquaintance being overly-friendly.
It’s not unkind, like he’d seemed towards Juniper that one day. But it’s still strange, and I can’t put my finger on what it is.
“It’s no problem. And I’m not amazing,” I promise. “I’m just lucky, I guess.”
“You think so?” Yet again there’s something in the words that give me pause, but he’s quick to add, “What are you doing tonight? Did I catch you mid-party? Are you getting ready to go out or anything?”
“Nah,” I admit, settling back against my pillows. “I’m just reading. I like to read on Saturdays.” And every other day of the week, but I don’t really want to tell him that. If I can, I want Oliver to think I’m interesting.
Of course, maybe that’s just because every second that I don’t tell him I know that he does cam work, I feel worse and worse about myself. I bite my lip, still drumming my fingers on my top book with its shiny, hard cover.
“Just textbooks? Not something more interesting? You could come to my place if you wanted,”Oliver offers.“I can give you a photography crash course, and you wouldn’t have to open that book ever again. Rook doesn’t give me enough credit, but I know how to pass his class with ease.”
For about three seconds, the length of time it takes for me to suck in a breath and let it out, I can’t help but think Oliver is flirting with me.
“Where do you live?” I ask, not because I plan on going over but because some part of me is curious about where he calls home.
When he recites an address to me, my first thought is that it’s far. Like, thirty minutes by Uber far.
My second thought is that it’s in a way nicer part of town than I have any business being in. I nearly choke on that information, but don’t say anything about it. I find itinsanethat a college student, even a masters student, can live in Hollow Oaks, but maybe he comes from money or something. It’s none of my business.
“Maybe sometime,” I reply, trying not to give him a commitment one way or the other. I still can’t decide how I feel about Oliver. There’s something off about him, and I would rather figure out what it is before I let him in.
IfI let him in. Hell, I don’t even know how much he wants from me. He’s so friendly, so could it just be that he wants to be my friend? I’ve met a lot of people like that in college. We get to know each other in a class, spend the semester as friends, and never talk to each other again unless we end up scheduled together again. It doesn’t make me feel bad, or anything. It’s just the way things go.
Maybe it’s how things will go with Oliver as well.
“By sometime, you mean—”he breaks off suddenly, and a few seconds later he’s talking again, but further away from thephone so I can’t hear what he says. He chuckles, I think, and someone else says something in a much less kind voice before a gasp that sounds like Oliver meets my ears.
“I have to go,” he says with a laugh, a grinding, dark note in his voice.
“Are you okay?” I can’t help but ask, and he pauses at the question.
“Yeah. And it’s nice of you to ask. I’m fine, Blair. Don’t worry about me, wonder girl.”
“Well, someone has to,” I say, before my mind takes note of the nickname that’s come out of his mouth. “Did you call me—”
“See you on Monday,”he cuts in, the other person in the background sounding more insistent. “Have a good weekend, Blair.” He hangs up, the line going dead in my ear as I sit there and try to figure out what in the world just happened.
What a strange conversation.
That’s the thing that I can’t stop thinking over and over, the last few minutes on a cycle through my brain. Oliver is…weird, that’s for sure. For all his overly-friendly energy and attitude.
But maybe it’s a good weird. My stomach curls at the thought and I bury my head in my hands, rem that along with not having told him that I know it’s him streaming, I also can’t deny that every time we talk, it’s more obvious that I have a crush on Oliver Greer.
Damn it.
Chapter 8
Take it off.
We just want to see.
You’re so **** pretty let me see your face
I tip my head to the side, heart hammering in my chest as I pretend to consider the words on the screen from my viewers. I’m up to seventeen today, and most of them have stayed. Especially once I took off my bra thanks to a nice donation from some random person with their name blocked, even if they never bothered to say anything in the chat.
My heart hammers in my chest, but I don’t let the smile fall from my face as my fingers skim up over my tattoos, then eventually come to a stop against my bottom lip. “Sorry,” I laugh, trying to channel Oliver when he refuses to take off his mask. “Hmm… Without it, I wouldn’t have the courage to do this. And I’ve really started to like it…” I tease the edge of the half-mask, pushing it up slightly before letting it fall back into place.