MY FRIEND DATE with Oliver ends up falling on a Saturday. We’ve only seen each other in passing since our last text message-slash-phone conversation, and I’ve mainly been focusing on painting the rooms with Micah and Dallas.
Oliver gave me three rules for our date: no short dresses, wear comfortable shoes, and no lipstick. I had to outright laugh at the last rule, and of course, I didn’t abide by it. I dressed in jeans, low black boots, and a frilly, white tank top with a dark green jacket over it in case it gets cold later. I left my hair down and straightened it, and put on my make-up—dark red lipstick included. As I looked in the mirror, I smiled at my reflection. Before I met Wyatt, I never wore lipstick. He was the one who suggested it, along with more grown-up clothing. I liked the change. He was older than me and more knowledgeable. He’d lived a fuller life, so any time he made a suggestion, I took it to heart.
Before Wyatt, I dressed however I wanted—short dresses, tight skirts, big heels, you name it. He slowly got me away from those things and into more, what he would call “adult clothes.” Mia thought I was an idiot. She said that, because we were only twenty-one, we could (and should) show off our assets.
“Especially you, with your dancer’s body,” she’d say.
I still wore Chucks and Doc Martens, and I got my nose pierced once. I just no longer walked around showing off too much leg or too much cleavage, and there was nothing wrong with that. I’m thankful for Wyatt and everything he gave me, but I decided I wouldn’t change who I was for anybody again—especially a man.
I stomp down the stairs and grab a water bottle, drinking it as I flitter around looking for a snack.
“You look nice,” Vic says as he opens the fridge.
I turn around and smile. “Thanks.”
“Going on a date this early?”
I look at the time, it’s ten, and Oliver should be here any minute now. And suddenly I start getting nervous. The whole reality of it slowly begins to sink in—Oliver will be picking me up for a friend date at my brother’s house—his best friend’s house. Clearly, we hadn’t thought this through as much as we should have. I’m twenty-five. I’m not a child anymore, but to Victor, this is the ultimate no-no. I know because I’ve heard it time and time again. I know it because as much as he loves Oliver, and even goes as far as introducing him as his brother whenever they’re together, he wouldn’t like the idea of him dating me.
“Not really a date,” I say. “I’m going out with Bean for a little while.”
Victor frowns as he searches my face but nods slowly. “You guys seem to be bonding over the hospital thing?” He poses it as a question. A very curious question. Too curious coming from my attorney brother. I give him a tight smile and nod in response. The doorbell rings before he gets a chance to say anything else, and I practically sprint toward it.
“See you later,” I call out over my shoulder as I grab my purse and open the door. I step outside without even looking up at Oliver, who’s standing so close, the smell of his cologne hits me like a wall. I need to lock the door before I acknowledge him though. We need to get far away from here before Victor comes out and says something that would make us forget about this friend thing, forever.
“In a rush?” Oliver says with a chuckle as I sort through the million keys on my ring. My eyes snap to his dark jeans and trail up slowly to his narrow waist and to the burgundy polo clinging to his lean body. I glance at his face, flitting across the scruff that sort of hides his dimples, and the way his long hair brushes his high cheekbones. Those amazing green eyes are lit up in amusement. Fuck. He looks too good for a friend date. His eyes stay glued to my lips when I part them to respond, and he opens his mouth to say something at the same time, but before either of us can speak, the door opens and Victor peeks out.
“Huh. I thought you were kidding,” he says, looking at Oliver.
“About?” I ask.
“What’s up, man?” Oliver says at the same time, bumping his fist with Vic’s.
“She said she was going out with you, but she was acting like she was hiding something from me, so I assumed she was lying.”
My heart threatens to jump out of my chest, so I look away, focusing on the mountains in the distance.
“I’m not a child, Victor,” I snap, as Oliver makes his own response.
“Why would she be hiding something?” Oliver says, his voice full of confusion. “Are you hiding something from us, Elle?”
My head jerks up to glare at him. “Are we going somewhere, or are you guys going to start grilling me? This is beyond ridiculous.” I turn my glare to Vic, who laughs, shakes his head, and steps back inside the house.
“Have fun with Miss Grouchy Pants,” he shoots over his shoulder.
I flash him my middle finger, which makes him laugh harder, and I stomp down the steps and head to Oliver’s black Cadillac. I pull on the handle when I hear his footsteps approach, but the door remains locked. He stops beside me, and I see the keys in his hand, a thumb hovering over the unlock button.
“I’m not really into starting dates—friend or otherwise—on a bad foot,” he says, beckoning me to look at his handsome, serious face.
“I’m not really into starting friend dates by getting grilled by both my brother and the dater.”
His lips twitch. “The dater?”
“You know what I mean,” I mutter.
Oliver smiles, a full-on devastating event. “I don’t. I’d rather you clarify, so I don’t get any funny ideas.”
“Oliver.”
“Estelle.”
“You know the rules—no kissing, no touching, no funny business.”
“And you know mine. No short dresses, no lipstick . . . yet here you are wearing red lipstick. Red. Total date color, by the way.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing, but fail. “Red is a date color?”
“On those lips it is.”
He holds my eyes for a moment—a really electrifying moment, where a current zips along my pulse—before he unlocks the car and reaches to open my door. I slip inside and wait for him to go around.
“Nice car,” I say when he gets in and revs it up.
“Thanks. It was a med school graduation present from my dad.”
I nod. “How is he?”
I only met his dad once, in passing, but have heard enough about him to know he’s still feeling the effects of the strokes he’d had.
“He’s . . . fine. Remarried. He seems happy, and his wife is nice, too. She stays on top of his health, so that’s good.”
“How are your mom and Sophie?”
He flashes me a quick smile before turning his attention to the road ahead. “They’re doing really well. Sophie’s pregnant again, and Sander is getting bigger by the minute. Mom’s good too, she’s so over the moon with them, that she cut back on work and stays home to help Soph.”