A Bird in the Oven - Kata Cuic Page 0,22

not overpowering in the slightest. It is…

“This is the best thing I have ever put in my mouth,” I mumble like a buffoon while still chewing.

Liv laughs, an unmistakably delighted sound that I absolutely want to share. “Right?”

I pick up my own fork then hesitate. Liv and I have never shared food before. I have definitely never wanted to eat half of the dessert offered to me by other women. “Can I really have some?”

“Yes,” she mumbles, motioning for me to dig in with enough enthusiasm for me to believe her.

I am barely able to stop her from licking the plate clean.

“We will have another,” I announce when the server returns to our table with the bill.

“Oh, Ollie, no. That’s not necessary,” Olivia whispers.

I turn to her with what I hope is a very direct gaze. “Do you still want me to be happy?”

“Yes,” she says.

“This would make me very happy.”

She grins.

We finish off another dessert grilled cheese sandwich.

9

Olivia

Oliver unlocks the door and ushers me inside. He hasn’t tried to continue with mindless small talk that bores him, but he hasn’t been exactly quiet either. He can’t stop smiling. A part of his body is always in motion, no matter how small. Tapping his finger against the steering wheel. Bouncing his leg at a stoplight. He’s usually very focused on whatever task he’s doing, and driving is no exception. On our ride home, he glanced over at me more than I can ever remember during a car ride with him.

“Ollie, is everything all right?” I flip on the lights in the living room. “I can make you something else to eat if you’re still hungry.”

“Everything is wonderful,” he says as he closes and locks the door behind us. “I am not hungry. Thank you for an enjoyable first date. I am very happy, so you should be happy, too. We are being happy together, just as you requested.”

He strides into the kitchen, a smile still etched into his face. I watch as he takes his evening vitamins and supplements, tidies the kitchen, starts the dishwasher, then goes all around the first floor, making sure each window and door is locked.

I have never wanted to pry into Oliver’s love life. Mostly for my own protection. I’ve already found out way more than is good for my mental health in the past few years that we’ve shared a bedroom wall. After the revelations of tonight, however, I’m finding it increasingly difficult to hold my tongue. The burning urge to interrogate him about every facet of every date he’s ever been on almost overwhelms me.

I’m not surprised to learn how much he’s given up for those women. Oliver is as selfless as they come—a fact he made crystal clear from the very first day of our friendship. I’m horrified to learn that he hasn’t necessarily enjoyed the full ride of dating. Other than the women who likely rode him to everyone’s satisfaction.

I always hated them. Always knew they were unappreciative users. Always, always, always thought Oliver could do so much better.

He’s so brilliant, yet he consistently chose women who were vapid shells. Very beautiful, very voluptuous shells, but shells nonetheless. They looked like models, smiled at everything, and could not carry on a meaningful conversation to save their lives. They worshipped his good looks and his bank account, gladly accepted his extravagant gifts, then clocked out around the one-month mark.

It never occurred to me why he chose women like that. It should have, but my stubborn need to not think too much about it blinded me to the obvious.

He was using them as much as they were using him.

He needed them to be unobservant. He required them to be attracted to his looks and his above-average joy stick instead of desiring to dig into the innermost recesses of his unaverage brain. Fancy dinner dates filled with mindless small talk were easier and safer than hours-long library dates discussing the neurochemical transmitters responsible for the monogamous coupling found in very few mammalian species.

He’s been protecting himself all along, too.

He stands in front of me, his hands on his hips, a frown replacing the smile that’s been on his face for the past two hours. “You seem displeased. We are not happy together anymore. What is wrong? I have already explained to you that living with me will boost our chances of conception because of the—”

I throw my arms around his waist and bury my face against his hard chest then squeeze him tight in