The space is all clean lines and soft light, polished enough to make me feel like I've stepped into somebody else's life by accident. A long cream-colored couch sits against one wall, flanked by matching chairs and a glass coffee table that looks like it's never had a single fingerprint on it. Framed photos hang neatly above the mantle, every one of them straight. There are no loose cords, no crooked rugs, no chipped corners, no clutter. Everything has a place. Everything has been chosen on purpose.
It smells faintly like lemon cleaner and something warm from the kitchen, maybe cinnamon or vanilla. A lamp in the corner casts a soft yellow glow over the room, making it feel lived in without making it feel messy. There's a bookshelf near the far wall packed with hardcovers and a few family photos tucked between them, like the whole room is trying very hard to look calm and ordinary.
I stand there for half a second too long, taking it in, and the size of it hits me all over again. This room alone might be bigger than our entire trailer. Bigger than the kitchen, the living room, my bedroom, all of it stacked together.
"Thank you for watching out for her last night," Will says, pulling me from my trance.
"It was nothing. People are creepy and unpredictable."
"You've got that right."
Then I feel it.
A presence behind me.
I turn.
And there she is.
I gasp loud enough that her dad lets out a low chuckle.
Olivia is wearing a light green dress threaded with glitter, and it hugs her body like it was made for her. Her hips, her thighs, the warm olive tone of her skin. All of it hits me at once. Her hair is pinned up in a loose bun, soft strands falling around her face.
"Hi," she says, awkward in a way that somehow makes her even prettier.
I lose my voice completely.
All I can do is wave like an idiot.
She puts me out of my misery by hugging her dad and announcing that we have to leave.
Her father walks us to the door, and then watches as I open the car door for Olivia. He nods his head and gives a gentle wave before closing the front door.
I turn my car on and Jack Harlow rattles my subs. I instinctively turn the music down, hyperaware of my surroundings and feeling entirely out of place.
"Why did you turn it down?" Olivia giggles.
"I… I actually don't know," I tell her honestly.
"Then, may I?"
I nod, haphazardly.
She turns the volume up, immediately getting into the music. Singing off-key to "First Class," she makes my heart dance. She's so fucking pretty, I bet she makes a killing in tips bartending.
I don't speak a word the entire drive, but my eyes keep pulling back to her. It's a struggle to keep them on the road with this curvy goddess next to me. Maybe driving her wasn't a good idea after all.
"Oh! Turn right here!" she announces.
We pull into the parking lot of a dimly lit venue. It looks like a rundown bingo hall.
She turns to me, as if she can feel my glare and read my mind.
"It's a 50th birthday," she tries to explain. "They were regulars at my old bar."
"Oh hell yeah. So just a little party?"
"Something like that," she giggles.