I’d lain in bed for hours the night before, scrolling through Misdial’s texts and picturing Olivia saying all of those things. I’d felt confused, mashing the two together, and I’d ultimately decided to delete the entire conversation and forget it ever happened. Olivia Marshall was Jack’s little sister, and the rest was irrelevant.
Which was fine theoretically, but after seeing her wear my towel like a little black dress, I found myself distracted by whatever the hell she was doing in the office. When the blow-dryer turned on, I was preoccupied with the idea of what she was wearing. Still the towel? And after it shut off, as hard as I tried, I couldn’t focus on anything other than the question of what the hell is she doing in there.
Because she banged, she thumped, and she made sounds as if she were literally climbing the walls of my office, all while I tried to do my work at the kitchen table.
As if she heard my thoughts, the office door opened and there she was. Today she was wearing a white sundress with a pair of Chuck Taylors, which was a ridiculous combination but so incredibly Olivia that it looked good on her. The dress hit her in all the good spots, and she did the bun-in-hair, glasses-on-nose combo that I pretty much always appreciated.
Yeah, I definitely had perverted librarian issues.
“I’m going to go work at the coffee shop in the Old Market, so you can have your office for the day.” She hitched a bag over her shoulder and gave me that look. “Just don’t mess it up.”
“I’ll do my best, oh generous one.” I tried to keep my eyes on the Excel spreadsheet in front of me, but I couldn’t stop myself from looking at her as she walked by on her way to the door. I’d always known she was attractive, but all of a sudden it was as if the universe was shoving her in my face. Great legs, perfect ass, eyes that squinted when she smiled, and the most adorable tattoo of a tiny typewriter on the back of her neck where it would usually be covered by her hair.
And that perfume. It was one of those scents that punched you in the gut and filled your head with dirty thoughts.
“I can’t find my key, so if you go somewhere, will you leave the door unlocked?” She opened the fridge and looked inside, making her skirt rise by an eighth of an inch. Shit—what the hell is wrong with me? I watched her grab one of my organic apples as she said, “I’m sure it’s hiding in my purse.”
“Um, no, I will definitely not be leaving my house unlocked.” Such an Olivia thing to say. “Maybe you should stick around until you find the key.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t want to do that. I’m going to go.”
“Well, okay, then; hope you don’t get locked out.”
She let out a breath. “You seriously won’t leave it open for me?”
“No, I seriously won’t leave my house unlocked when no one is home.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Beck, can’t you—”
“Liv.” I held up a hand to get her to stop talking. “I doubt I’m going anywhere, so I’m sure you’ll be fine, okay? Just go.”
She took a bite of the apple, chewing and looking at me as if she expected me to say more. When I didn’t, she just said, “？’kay, bye,” turned around, and walked right out the door.
Shit.
I had to pull myself together; it wasn’t natural for Olivia to get the best of me. The only thing I’d ever had a handle on, when it came to her, was that I had the upper hand. She was a mess; I was in control. She did stupid things, and I mocked her for them. There was no room for this sudden Misdial entanglement to redraw the lines of our acquaintance and have her on top. No way.
Although now that I was thinking about it, she’d once told me that she liked being on top.
Thoughts like that were going to kill me.
I tried working in the office, but it was different now. Even though she’d cleaned up （by dragging all of her stuff into the closet and closing the door as far as it would go）， the room no longer felt like my workspace. It felt like the room where Olivia slept. It smelled like her perfume, and God help me, a lacy black bra was hanging on the back of the doorknob.
Once I finally refocused and started actually being productive, my phone buzzed.
Miss Misdial: Okay, clearly you are dead or in a coma. I should probably respect that, especially if your mother is holding your phone and wondering wtf this is all about, but I’m selfish. I need a texting buddy, and I’m going to just continue texting into this void regardless of whether you ever respond.