“Hello?”My heart races. I’d forgotten I’d already tapped his contact name, and it takes me a moment to get my thoughts together after Oliver answers the phone.
“Hey. Um. Hi,” I stammer, wincing at the sound of my own voice. “I’m really sorry. I should’ve texted you, or… something.”
“No, you can call me anytime,” Oliver assures me sweetly. “What’s up, wonder girl?What would you like from me?”
“Uh.” I blink a few times, staring down at the photos and my laptop. “I have our project done. I think. But I’m not super sure on a few things, or which photos I should submit for extra credit. I was wondering if you’d help me, maybe? You could come over. I could order pizza, if that’s your thing?” I know that I’m rambling now, but I can’t help how nervous he makes me.
“Nah, I’m not coming over,” Oliver replies, his voice just as kind and enthusiastic as usual.
It takes me a moment to register what he’d said. “What?”
“You can come over here. No offense, Blair?”I hear him shift. “But I kind of hate your roommate. So I hate being somewhere that she might show up, and where she lives. I’m really trying for you. In a lot of ways.” I blink at my photos, barely able to register what he’s really saying. “I haven’t killed anyone else, either. So I'd rather not be tempted to break the streak.”
“Oh,” I breathe lightly. It makes sense, unfortunately. It makes a lot of sense.
“We can do it over the phone, but I’d really prefer it if you just came over with your work. I’ll help you with it as muchas you want. As much as I’m allowed to, without betraying the whole boyfriend-privilege. And I’ll get us dinner. I’ll pay for the Uber, too. Since I doubt you want to ride with me again right now.”
It’s surprisingly thoughtful. Enough so that I sigh and feel my guard relaxing. “Okay,” I say finally, thinking about what I’m doing and kicking myself for it. “That’s umm. I can do that. You don’t have to pay for the Uber, though. That’s fine. What time do you want me to—”
“Now,” he replies, unable to hide the thrill in his voice. “I’ll text you my address. What do you like to eat?”
“I’m not picky,” I lie. “But I really like chicken? I’ll take pizza or whatever you prefer.” I don’t want to be a weird nuisance at his almost-mansion.
“I’ll find something,” he promises, my phone buzzing with a message. When I check, I find Oliver’s address, and he goes on, “Just let me know when you’re a couple minutes away so I can come outside.”
“Okay. Hey, Oliver?” I ask, before he can hang up.
“Yes, Blair,”he says, not waiting for my question. “Rook is here, too.” With that, he hangs up, leaving me staring at my phone with my lips pressed together.
“I guess that’s it then,” I sigh, dropping my phone so I can gather up my things. “Maybe he’ll be too busy to notice me.” I pick up my phone once I’m ready to call an Uber, and do so quickly so I can’t back out.
Maybe Rook will be too busy to notice my existence, and maybe my Uber driver will show up on a unicorn. Anything’s possible, after all.
“It’s sonice not gettingdraggedin here and worried I’m about to be cut into kebabs,” I remark as Oliver pushes the door open and ushers me inside.
He snorts, closing it behind me, and only the smallest tingle of trepidation crawls down my spine when he does. “I’d never hurt you, wonder girl,” he reminds me, taking the lead. I follow him down a hallway, through the kitchen, and up the stairs I’d knocked myself out on. My heart thuds in my chest as I surreptitiously peek into any room for a sign of Professor Solomon, until Oliver adds, “Rook’s office is on the other side of the house. You’re not going to find him like that.”
“I wasn’t trying,” I lie breezily, ignoring his snort. He pushes open a door and leads me into a large bedroom with a desk on one side. The room is huge, and when I peek through a door that isn’t closed, I see that there’s a large bathroom on the other side, complete with a glass-walled shower.
“Sure. If you want to email me your essay, or just airdrop it, I can look at it for you. We can look at your photos here, too.” He drags a stool beside the impressive office chair, and flips on the desk light that illuminates the surface like a second sun.
It’s certainly fancier than what I thought Oliver’s room would look like. There are framed photographs on the walls, and the bed is made up neatly with darkly colored linens. The floor is hardwood, and I curl my toes in my flip-flops as I think about how underdressed I am to even exist in a house like this.
Not that it’ll be for long, I don’t think. A couple of hours, maybe, with dinner included.
I do as Oliver says, sending over the essay for him to read as I arrange the photos in lines on the desk. One for the project that’s due, and one for my extra credit. He looks over them, simultaneously reading my essay as his eyes flick from the computer to the photos and back again.
It’s quieter than I’d expected. Not only that, he’s not teasing or taunting me as he works. He picks up one photo and pulls it out of the pile, shaking his head, before moving onto the next while I fidget.
“Are they… okay?” I ask, after what has to be eight or ten minutes of him doing this.
“Hmm? Yeah, umm.” He shows me the two piles he’s made, explaining his picks and which ones he thinks would work best. I nod at his reasoning, not sure about half of the terms he uses, and only some of it really sinks in.
“But you can disagree with me,” Oliver promises, sliding the photos back in my direction. “You’re not like, bound to use the ones I think are best.”
“I want to use them,” I assure them as he leans closer to me, shoulder brushing mine so he can flick his eyes over the essay again. “I trust you.” His mouth flicks upward in a smile, eyes never wavering, and I quickly add, “With photography, I mean. I don’t know if I trust you… with other things.”
“Your essay is okay. Just give it a once over before you turn it in, if you want. But I didn’t see anything glaring. What other thingsdon’tyou trust me with, Blair?” he asks, scooting closer. “The rest of your portfolio review you’re turning in?”