A Bird in the Oven - Kata Cuic Page 0,18

spend a second of time with you.”

A tiny smidge of satisfaction pings in my brain. Jealousy overrides it. “Oh. Huh. Just like all those women you were with didn’t deserve you. At least you didn’t have to spend hours making yourself attractive to them.”

“This is why I am angry,” he explains.

“I’ve spent years being angry, so welcome to the club.”

“That does not make any sense. You do not need to be angry on my behalf. You just said I did not have to spend hours making myself attractive to women.”

“That’s exactly why I’m angry!”

His expression is a snarled tangle of confusion and frustration. “I do not understand what you are telling me! Those women found me attractive without any…primping on my part. They were aroused by the sight of my face and my hair and my body and the way I pleasured them in bed. Why would it take hours for you to achieve the same level of attraction for men? You are beautiful all the time, Olivia! I might be weird, but those guys were obviously blind!”

All my anger vanishes in a puff of smoke. “You think I’m beautiful?”

He hoists the box against his hip then points to his glasses. “Not blind!”

“I didn’t know, Ollie,” I murmur. “You never told me.”

“After hours of primping for those idiots, they better have told you,” he mutters, striding away with the box.

Some of them did. But none so beautifully as Ollie.

8

Oliver

This is not my first date. To be clear, it is my first date with Olivia. I have been on many dates with many other women. The script is usually straight-forward. Open their car door for them, give them my elbow to escort them inside, pull out their chair and seat them, offer them a compliment about their appearance, order our food, mind my manners, engage in meaningless small talk, then be rewarded with an orgasm afterward if I have played my part well enough.

I have mastered my script for interactions with Olivia, too. As friends. I have never had to concern myself with winning an orgasm provided by her. The prize was always continued friendship. This is strange, new territory, complicated by the fact that she gave me an orgasm last night without me having to do anything to earn that reward. In fact, she refused my attempts at even trying to maintain a reverse order of events.

I am out of my element. Combine that sense of unease with the fact that the restaurant is overly crowded, our reservations were not abided by in a timely fashion, and we have been waiting twenty-two minutes and fifty-seven seconds for even a greeting from our server. I also failed to account for how much I detest the smell of seafood.

“We don’t have to stay, Ollie,” she murmurs, staring out the wall of windows at the glittering view of the city sprawled out below us.

She looks so captivated even as she says words that do not match her expression. This is another of my favorite looks on her. I do not want it to go away.

“We will stay. I promised to date the hell out of you.”

A hint of a smile tips her lips upward at the corners, but she maintains her gaze where it has been since I helped her into her seat. “It’s so beautiful up here.”

“The view is very beautiful.” I am still angry that the men Liv has been with before did not appreciate it. Was I upset when her first boyfriend asked her to Homecoming before I could? Yes. Yes, I was. But she was happy, so I was happy for her. That is part of being a good friend. If I had known all those guys were not treating her as well as she deserves to be treated, I would have told my teen transition counselor to shove his advice where the sun does not shine. I did not know then what I know now, so I followed his directives to the letter.

Now, I am picturing burning a paper letter to ash, but I have a very different script to replace it with. One that has never applied to Liv before.

I suppose the only thing I can do is show Olivia how those other guys should have treated her. I can do that. It is still an applicable set of rules.

I take her hand in mine and bring it to my lips.

Her gaze darts in my direction, then she pulls her hand away. “You don’t like kissing, Ollie.”

“I