Page 40 of The Time It Takes
I rolled my eyes and nudged him gently with my foot. “No, I mean your soul. Where does it feel like your soul belongs?”
Those forest-green eyes bored into mine, and I suddenly found myself wanting to get closer to him. We were still an arm’s length apart and it felt like different sides of the world. Sometimes it felt like I wouldn’t be satisfied until I wore his skin—not in the literal sense, but I wanted to know everything about him. Every crevice of his soul so I could properly intertwine it with my own.
He shook his head again and before I could give him my unimpressed look he sighed loudly. “Here. My soul belongs here.” He reached out his hand, and the tips of his fingers traced over my chest, close to where my heart thrummed frantically underneath. “I know it does.”
We stared at each other, and something passed between us. It felt a lot like uncharted territory. It was a dangerous line to cross.
There were so many scenarios to consider. Too many what-ifs.
I couldn’t deny that it felt like more than friendship sometimes. Wanting him this way was obliteratively terrifying. Deep down we knew we had only ever been friends, but lately, something had been rising to the surface.
It was moments like this with him that made something else seem possible. Something I knew I’d miss someday if I didn’t grab it now.
Oliver pulled his hand away and turned to look at the TV again. His voice lowered as he said, “Besides, I can wonder all I want about where I could be, but all that matters is where I want to be, which happens to be exactly where I am.”
His hand found my knee and he squeezed it gently. I expected him to let go after that, but he didn’t. He kept his grip firm, and I couldn't help but look at him like a girl who just learned that maybe her best friend was in love with her too.
I watched in fascination as his thumb traced circles over my skin.
“Ollie,” I whispered as I scooted closer to him.
He looked over at me, lifting his arm without hesitation so I could tuck myself underneath it. “Damsel,” he whispered into my hair, placing a quick kiss on the top of my head.
I tilted my head to look up at him. “Tell me a quote.”
His eyes dropped to my mouth as the request fell off my tongue. I barely contained my shiver at the realization of how much I loved it when he looked at me like this.
He smiled to himself as he thought of one. “I’m yours forever—forever and ever. Here I stand, firm as a rock. If you’ll only trust me, how little you’ll be disappointed. Be mine as I am yours.”
It was rare to feel my heartbeat in my fingertips all the way to my toes, but it wasn’t rare for Oliver to be the cause of it. Those words—though not his own, they felt just as meaningful. I wanted to at least pretend they meant something, but I had to remind myself that this was just something we did. It was a game. One I didn’t mind playing with him at all.
I sometimes hoped that it was how we told each other the words we couldn’t find the courage to make up ourselves.
“Henry James,” I breathed as my eyes dropped to his mouth. “The Portrait of a Lady.” It was one of my favorites.
He dipped his chin in confirmation and I wasn’t sure how long we sat like that—staring at one another like our next meal. I barely remembered the moment before we started to drift closer to each other.
His eyebrows knitted together as he bowed his head so that his forehead rested against mine. We were both fighting a battle we prayed for the other to lose.
Nothing else existed at that moment. It was just us, sitting on this couch, letting our souls exist. This was the first moment I realized that I wanted it all to belong to him. Every single part of me.
My nose brushed his and when his lips parted, I knew what he wanted. I knew that he knew that I wanted the same thing.
I place my hand on his chest and he released an uneven breath, his body shaking slightly. I could feel him waiting to see if I’d push him away, but I didn’t. It felt like I had waited for this moment since I was born. Ollie stopped being just any other person a long time ago. He was the place I belonged. He was both an escape and the discovery of everything.
I leaned forward a little more so that my lips were just a hair away from his. We were so close that every breath we took was from each other. I moved the rest of the way causing his lips to ghost mine.
But nothing happened.
Nothing happened because my phone buzzed on the coffee table.
Startled by the abrupt sound, we jerked away from each other, and I felt my cheeks heat. I almost kissed him. If my phone hadn’t interrupted us, I wondered if he would have let me—if he would have kissed me back just as hard.
Without looking at Oliver to see if he was wearing regret on his face, I reached for my phone on the coffee table. I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered it anyway.
“Hello?”
“Willow?” a raspy female voice asked.
