Fuck. Margot’s chest throbbed like at any second she might bust open like a pi?ata, feelings pouring out of her like candy. “I missed you, too, Liv.”
Olivia’s lower lip wobbled, her teeth trapping it. Light from the corner lamp caught on—sure enough, a small piece of shiny foil.
“You have gold foil on your mouth,” Margot said, swallowing thickly when Olivia’s teeth scraped against the swell of her lip, leaving it plump and dark. “It’s from the cake, I think.”
Olivia ran her fingers along her lip line. The foil didn’t so much as budge. She looked at her hand and frowned. “Is it gone?”
“No, just—come here.” Margot leaned forward, hand shaking as she reached out, dragging the pad of her thumb along the satin swell of Olivia’s bottom lip. Lips still parted, Olivia’s warm breath tickled Margot’s knuckles and made her insides clench, heat pooling between her thighs.
The foil flecked off, transferring to Margot’s skin, and she quickly dropped her hand.
“All gone,” Margot panted.
Olivia’s throat jerked, the high crests of her cheeks flushed crimson. “Thanks.”
Margot’s pulse pounded in her head, at the base of her throat, between her thighs.
“Popcorn,” she blurted.
Olivia frowned. “Popcorn?”
Margot hopped off the couch, stomach swooping when she tripped on the fringed edge of the rug. She righted herself and wiped her clammy palms on her thighs. “Do you want some? Because I’m going to make some.”
Olivia worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “Sure. I guess.” She stretched forward for the remote. “I’ll find something on TV.”
Margot escaped to the kitchen and braced her hands against the counter. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She needed to pull it together. Get a grip. Her feelings for Olivia had fucked everything up for her once; she refused to let that happen again, no matter how badly she ached to press Olivia down onto the couch and feel Olivia tremble beneath her fingers, around her fingers. Fuck.
Margot clenched her eyes shut, but all that did was superimpose a hundred fantasies on the back of her lids. A running reel of memories. Her fingers curled around the kitchen counter until her knuckles turned white.
Olivia had always been tactile and a little bit of a flirt. It didn’t mean anything. Just because she’d wanted Margot once, for that one week eleven years ago, didn’t mean she wanted Margot again, wanted her now.
Friends. Margot sucked in a deep breath, air shuddering between her lips. She held it until her lungs ached and her heart kicked at the wall of her chest, then let it out slowly, shoulders dropping and heart rate slowing to something approaching normal. Friends. Margot could totally do friends. She was great at doing friends. Oh, Jesus. Great at being friends.
Reaching inside the cabinet beside the stove, Margot pulled out a bag of extra-buttery movie-theater-style popcorn. She ripped off the plastic, unfolded the bag, and popped it in the microwave, adding an extra thirty seconds because there was nothing she hated more than anemic popcorn, pale and with the kernel unpopped, the center hard enough to break a tooth.
When the microwave beeped, Margot divided the popcorn into two bowls, one for her, one for Olivia, no chance of buttery fingers brushing when they both reached in at the same time.
A little less hot beneath the collar, Margot wandered back into the living room, a bowl in each hand. “Find something? We can always look on Netflix.”
Olivia took her bowl with a smile, gesturing to the TV with the remote. “TMC’s running a Shirley MacLaine marathon.”
Margot curled up on the opposite cushion. Right now, the channel was on a commercial. “What’s on?”
Olivia finished chewing before answering, “The Apartment.”
“That’s a good one.” Margot sifted through the bowl, picking out the darkest pieces, little kernels burnt to perfection.
“You remember when you had mono?”
“Oof. Don’t remind me. I thought I was going to die that summer.” Margot cringed.
Olivia bumped her shoulder and when Margot turned, her eyes brightened. “It wasn’t all bad. We stayed in bed, remember? That part was nice.”
“You practically moved in with me.” Margot’s chest squeezed, hot and tight. “You even skipped cheer camp.”
Olivia had surrendered her spot on the varsity squad sophomore year just so she could spend the summer marathoning Turner Classic Movies from Margot’s bed. In between spells of feverish fatigue and moments of feeling like run-over shit, Margot was pretty sure she’d thanked Olivia. Now she wasn’t sure.