“
Well, we can watch movies, or paint and draw
I brought my stuff by earlier today. Listen to music. Talk. I bought some groceries, so I was thinking I could try to make us lunch–
”
“
Olivia Holland
cooks
?
”
“
Olivia Holland will
try
to,
”
I respond.
“
But there are a ton of quick restaurants around here if I screw up too badly.
”
“
I bet we
’
ll do okay together.
”
“
Jon Scott
cooks
?
”
“
I microwave masterfully.
”
“
I didn
’
t know that was a thing. I mean, who doesn
’
t?
”
“
Hey, do you want my help or not?
”
“
I do,
”
I tell him with a smile.
“
You look nice, by the way. I like your hair like that.
”
It
’
s spiky and messy, but styled to be that way.
“
Thanks. I got it cut. It kept getting in my eyes.
”
“
I like it when it gets in your eyes, too. It
’
s cute.
”
“
Cute, yes. Just the adjective I
’
m going for.
”
“
Hot. Sexy. What was it... libidinous?
”
“
Look at you,
”
he says with a laugh.
“
I
’
m smart, remember?
”
I whisper, sidling up next to him and clasping my hands behind his back. I blink at him innocently.
“
How could I forget that?
”
He stares at me, as if he
’
s contemplating something. Suddenly, he picks me up and carries me across the room.
“
Put me down!
”
I squeal.
“
Demanding one, aren
’
t you?
”
“
Please put me down! I
’
ll hurt you!
”
“
Ouch, yeah,
”
he says as he settles me gently on a couch.
“
You
’
ll hurt my ego. What, am I weak?
”
“
Yeah, so weak,
”
I taunt him. He hovers over me, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his eyes challenging mine playfully.
“
You mentioned music, little girl. Where is it?
”
“
Don
’
t call me that,
”
I instruct him, my voice lilting, as I throw a pillow at him.
“
My iPod
’
s on that dock over there.
”
“
Oh,
your
music. I was hoping for a better selection.
”
“
Hey!
”
He wanders over to my music player but starts rummaging through some CDs sitting next to it. He sets a few aside, making comments to himself that I can
’
t quite hear.
“
Let
’
s check this out,
”
he says, opening up the jewel case and putting it in the CD player of a large stereo system. Granna went all out to make sure this place was perfectly livable. Mellow guitar music starts to ring out from the surround-sound speakers.
“
What is it?
”
He shrugs.
“
It simply says
‘
demo
’
on it,
”
he tells me. The lyrics begin, the man
’
s voice velvety smooth and perfectly on pitch.
“
Not bad. Wonder if this guy
’
s made it big by now. It
’
s act–
”
“
Shhh.
”
I stand up and move closer to the speakers, recognizing the words of the chorus.
“
Holy hell, it
’
s Nate.
”
“
No. Really?
”
“
Yeah. That poem is in his
sketchbook
. Look.
”
I run quickly to my bag in the guest room and pull the leather-bound book out, flipping to one of the first pages I
’
d studied. I start to follow along with the words as he sings them, pointing out each line to Jon, who
’
s watching over my shoulder.
“
Wow, what a find,
”
he says.
“
It
’
s beautiful. I wonder if Mom has heard it before.
”
“
You think it was for her?
”
“
I know it was.
”
I
’
m mesmerized.
“
I want to be loved like that.
”
I hadn
’
t meant to say it out loud, but I did. My cheeks flush bright pink as Jon moves toward me. I sit down on the guest bed, and he kneels in front of me.
“
What makes you think you aren
’
t?
”
“
You
’
ve never written me a song,
”
I say, shrugging my shoulders bashfully.
“
Is that the mark of true love?
”
He teases me.
“
Is that the only real proof that a man loves a woman? He has to put it in song?
”
“
It doesn
’
t hurt,
”
I tell him, but I
’
m not really serious. Just to have a man bare his soul to me like Nate did to my mother; that
’
s all I want. It wouldn
’
t have to be in song, but a poem, a painting, a photo, a letter...
Why would Mom choose my dad over Nate? What could he possibly offer that Nate couldn
’
t? Just then, I think of the ways my dad has shown his love. Gifts. Diamonds. Affection.
A toast.
Vows.
Still, I can
’
t even begin to compare him to the romantic that Nate obviously is. Or rather,
was
.
Jon picks up my left hand and presses the pads of his fingers against the red spots.
“
Are these the marks of true love?
”
he asks. It sounds like he
’
s teasing, but I know that there
’
s real curiosity behind his question.
“
No,
”
I laugh, trying to brush him off.
“
Are these for him? For Nate?
”
I don
’
t look him in the eye when I shake my head.
“
Of course not.
”
We
’
re both silent for a minute or two, listening to Nate
’
s song, and I can feel his doubt hanging in the air above me, but he doesn
’
t press for more information.
“
Note to self: write a song for the woman I love.
”
I
’
m thankful he
’
s changed the subject back.
“
You don
’
t have to,
”
I explain.
“
I was kidding.
”
“
I
’
m not. You know I like a challenge.
”
“
Have you ever picked up a musical instrument?
”
“
Picked up? Sure. Will plays the tuba.
”
I start giggling.
“
That
’
s going to be a lovely song.
”
“
The best tuba love song you ever heard.
”
“
The only one–
”
“
And wouldn
’
t that be special?
”
He jokes with me.
“
Yes, of course, dear.
”
I stand up and playfully tap the top of his head with the sketch book, walking past him. He follows me into the main room.
“
So I
’
m taking the SAT next month.
”
“
Really?
”
he asks as we both take a seat.
“
Yeah. My parents want to see where I stand so we can take a look at college options.
”
“
I thought you were set on Parsons.
”
“
I think I am. They
’
re not. They want Ivy League.
”
“
It
’
s your decision.
”
“
I
’
m just humoring them. But you know, it wouldn
’
t be too bad to go to Columbia with you.
”
“
I wouldn
’
t mind, but you should choose the school that suits you best for what they offer. Don
’
t just go for me.
”
“
It
’
s just something I started thinking about. But with the SATs, I
’
m really just curious how I
’
ll do.
”
“
I
’
m curious, as well. Your PSAT scores were ridiculously high–
”
“
I test well when I know the material.
”
“
I know. And if you want help with some prep work, we can start working on that on Tuesdays. Not today, though.
”
“
Definitely not today. And actually, I
’
m working with one of my teachers over my study hall period to prep. I
’
ve been doing it since the beginning of the year.
”
“
Look at you. You
’
re phasing me out,
”
he teases.
“
Is he cute?
”
“
Shut up.
”
I push against his chest.
“
But, yeah, me and the other four girls in my class do think he
’
s pretty hot.
”
“
Really?
”
“
Yeah.
”
“
I think I
’
m feeling a little jealous,
”
he says.
“
Tell me about him.
”
“
He
’
s twenty-five–
”
“
Way too old.
”
“
By whose standards?
”
I smile at him innocently.
“
What else?
”
“
Well, he
’
s obviously really smart. He wears these cute, nerdy glasses–
”
“
Oh, one of
those
guys.
”
“
What does that mean?
”
“
I
’
m just messing with you, Olivia. I
’
m not threatened. You
’
re wearing my ring, not his.
”
He wraps his arms around me and leans me back into the couch.