Page 54 of Lessons in Love

These are emotions that no-one would ever use to describe me. I’m the one with my head buried in my laptop, paying no attention to the outside world. Spending hours in the lab, not seeing the sun for days on end.

Blunt, obsessive, stubborn.

But around Oliver I can feel something shifting, something changing. He reminds me that there’s more to the world than my studies. That it’s okay to enjoy yourself every once in a while.

I hope he doesn’t notice how sweaty my hands are. Mental note. Get those hand-Botox injections that stop sweating. Yeah, that’ll fix the problem.

“Yeah, yeah, I am. Are you?” I ask.

Oliver throws back his head as he laughs, exposing the long column of his throat. “I never expected a country fair to be this violent. What’s next, axe throwing?”

“Ooo, entries for that did close yesterday unfortunately. Can you cope with just fireworks?”

“Fireworks?”

“Yep.” I pop the ‘p’, tugging on his hand a little harder. “There’s more to the town that meets the eye. There’s still time to get the best viewing spot, right up on top of the hill.”

He doesn’t complain as we weave through the crowds, and I’m acutely aware of the way his body presses up behind mine as we cut and dodge. His breath flutters across the back of my neck and it sends a rush of heat down my body. I’m almost speechless by the time we make it to the hill, barely able to stand upright on my own.

“Where’s that picnic blanket when you need it?” Oliver sits down and uses a tree as a backrest. The sun has just started to set, barely peaking over the horizon. Oliver’s face is basked in a golden glow, his eyes shining.

Looking over the fairground, it’s so easy to believe that we’re completely alone up here. The neon lights are just beginning to burn brighter in the dusk light. You can still hear the music, still hear people talking, but it feels so separate. “Eden?”

“Sorry?”

“Are you going to sit down?”

“Oh, um, yeah. Sorry.” I slide down next to him, face burning. Oliver clears his throat and when I turn he holds an arm up, inviting me closer. I don’t look at him as I slide against the warmth of his body. It’s strong and steady next to me, and I breathe a sigh of contentment. Oliver starts to talk and I feel the words rumble in his chest.

“If there’s one thing to say about this town, it’s that it’s so far away from everything.”

“Yeah, like a supermarket,” I retort. His body shakes as he laughs.

“That is true. But in saying that, I just… I don’t want to go back.”

I know exactly what he means.

“I think that every time I’m here.” Sighing, I lean even deeper into him. His fingers start rubbing my shoulder, the ghost of a touch. “What are you going to do about your dad and brother?” He stiffens underneath me and I immediately regret my question. It seems that our little bubble has burst and reality has started to seep back in.

“I don’t know,” he says softly. “I don’t want to think about it right now. Not with you here with me.”

When I look up, I see my own emotions reflected in his eyes. Fear, apprehension. But also longing, excitement. A grin gently tugs up the corner of his mouth, and the air seems to crackle with electricity between us. I don’t resist when he tilts my chin up with his fingers and kisses me. It’s slow. Gentle. Deliberate. This isn’t a stolen moment. We have all the time in the world.

I barely register the movement as he tugs me onto his lap, lips never breaking apart. He grabs me by the hips (entirely improper for a public place, mind you) and kisses me until my head starts spinning. His fingers burn against my cheek, my jaw, my neck. His lips trace a pattern down the side of my neck. His pants are rough on the soft parts of my inner thighs, exposed in this dress. When we pull apart, chest heaving, I rest my forehead against his.

“I could get used to this,” he says softly, voice thick. I chuckle, and just like that the spell is broken. I carefully extract myself from his lap and settle once more against him. “I do like you, Eden.” His confession catches me off-guard. The breath hitches in my throat. “I know you want to focus on school, but I’m happy to have you any way I can.”

When we look at each other, I can see the hint of tears in the corner of his dark eyes. I clear my throat awkwardly. This display of emotion is making me feel claustrophobic. Like if we talk about the way we feel, it doesn’t exist on its own anymore. That it becomes too complex, too entangled in our daily lives. And what I have with Oliver I want to protect, keep it my own. Why is kissing so much easier than talking? Oliver must see it on my face, because he leans back and gives my shoulder a good-natured squeeze, his expression unreadable “Now, when do these fireworks begin?”

* * *

Early the next morning we pack our bags and sling them into the back of Oliver’s car, prepared to make the long trek back home to our real lives.

That was all this was, right? A break, a distraction.

Oliver lifts my duffle bag like it weighs nothing, the side of his mouth smirking up as he notices me watching. It’s not always going to be like this, though. I wish it could be. But he’s going to get back to his life and his family and realise that this was nothing but a holiday fling. A bit of fun. Fun that I’ll see every week until my exams.

The reminder of not-so-distant schoolwork is a sobering thought. We’re halfway through this semester. Halfway through until I don’t have an excuse to see Oliver every week. Something dark and heavy settles in my stomach.