He scans the crowd for onlookers, then waves goodbye with his lone middle finger.
I stick in my earbuds and float away with Ed Sheeran as I take the Red Line back to Harvard Square. At South Station an all too familiar face steps through the doors. We make eye contact, sharing mirrored grins.
“You’re haunting me today,” I tug my earbuds out.
Oliver takes the seat next to me. “I could say the same about you.”
“Your obnoxious brother let you off early?”
Oliver laughs. “I didn’t ask. I pretty much decide when I’m done. What’s he going to do? Fire me?” His gaze dips, heating my skin. “So why are you going home so early?”
“Wasn’t really my day to work so I left my friends to clean up the mess and close up shop. Besides, I skipped lunch and I’m starving.”
“You think it’s because you skipped lunch? Or maybe it’s because you left half of your breakfast with me.” Oliver pulls at his chocolate-stained shirt.
“Funny guy, huh? I’m starting to feel less and less badly about this morning’s little incident.”
We both stand as the train stops at Harvard Station. “Come on.” He signals with his head as we step off. “I owe you a doughnut.”
I hesitate as commuters shuffle past us. “That’s a ridiculous comment, but I’m starving so yeah, I’ll let you buy me a doughnut.”
We navigate up the stairs and make our way out to Harvard Square. I hold up a finger and duck into the corner shop returning just a few minutes later. “Here, we’re even.” I toss him a Harvard T-shirt. “Now you can pretend you went to an Ivy League school.”
He shrugs off his shirt leaving me with a gaped-mouth stare as I look around to see if anyone else is watching. Drool-worthy, carved muscles hug his lean frame, and I can’t hide the blush that creeps up my neck as he slips on the new shirt before tossing the old one in the trash.
“What makes you think I didn’t go to Harvard?”
I shrug. “Well, probably the leather work boots. Why? Did you go to Harvard?”
Oliver cruises ahead toward Dunkin’ Donuts. “It’s possible.”
I can feel his smirk as I roll my eyes and jog to catch up.
“After you.” Smirking, Oliver holds open the door.
“Why thank you, Mr. Konrad.”
We order doughnuts and iced coffee then take a seat by the window.
“So, are you?”
“Am I what?” He arches a sly brow.
“A Harvard graduate.”
“Ah, piqued your curiosity, have I?”
“A little.” I remove the lid from my coffee.
He stares into his drink as if he’s waiting for his next words to float to the top. “Yes, I went to Harvard.”
“Cool,” I reply, sticking my finger into the cream-filled hole then licking it off.
With cow eyes, Oliver watches me suck the filling off my finger. He clears his throat. “Yes, I guess it is cool.”
Sticking my finger back in the hole to scoop out more filling, I laugh. “I don’t mean it dismissively, I’m just trying to not make a big deal of it. You’re obviously not using your degree, that is if you received one, so I don’t want to make you feel bad for doing something else in life.”
Sliding my tongue along my cream-covered finger, I wait for his response. He’s staring at my mouth again with his lips parted and he takes an exaggerated swallow when his eyes meet mine.
“Uh, that’s um, an interesting way to eat a doughnut.”
I lick my lips and grin. “I like to savor it. You know, the way some people lick the frosting from the center of an Oreo before eating the cookie part?”
He nods and clears his throat. “I graduated with a degree in Law.”
“Really? Did you ever practice?”
His forehead tenses into valleys of lines, almost looking pained. “For a short while, but … life became too demanding so I had to give it up.” He says each word with slow calculated precision.
“Do you think you’ll ever start practicing again?”
He keeps eye contact, but his gaze becomes glazed. “A few years ago I would have said no, but now I hope I find my way back.”
“Sounds like you’re lost.”
Oliver leans back and laces his fingers behind his head. “I think I am.”
I pull the straw from my cup and chew on the end giving thought to his comment. “Lost is a state of mind. You’ll find yourself when you acknowledge you’re exactly where you need to be in this moment.”
He laughs. “At Dunkin’ Donuts?”
“Nope, just alive.” I smile but it falters as I watch the color drain from Oliver’s face. “Did I say something wrong?”
The legs of his chair screech along the floor as he stands. “No, I just should get going.”
I grab my drink, shoving the straw back into it, and stand. “Okay, well, thanks for the late afternoon treat.”
“Yeah, sure. So I’ll see you around.” He doesn’t wait for me and before I can say anymore he’s out the door.
Now who’s scampering away with their tail between their legs? What the hell just happened? How can Chance be so transparent, as in, “I’d do you in the back of my pickup,” but Oliver such an enigma? I climb the front stairs to my building while fetching my keys.
“Hey, Oliver, how’s it going?”
I whip around and see Oliver waving toward an open window of a condo across the street, then he digs his keys out of one pocket while holding a paper grocery sack with the other. He unlocks the door next to the one with the open window, enters, and closes it without a single glance in my direction.
No way! Oliver is my neighbor?
I have nothing to offer this tall sexy man, yet I feel compelled to march across the street like the welcome wagon with a chip on her shoulder.
Knock knock knock!
He opens his door and his brows sink into a scowl. “Did you follow me?”
I make a fist and point my thumb over my shoulder. “See that red door?”
He nods.
“That’s where I live. I heard your neighbor greet you as I was getting ready to unlock my door. How long have you lived here and why did you drop me like burnt toast then run out of the doughnut joint?”
He jerks his head back. “Um, two months and I didn’t drop you like burnt toast, I had to get going.”
Crossing my arms over my chest I widen my stance, jutting my hip out. “How have I not seen you coming or going? And yes, you did drop me like burnt toast, and then you ran out the door with your tail between your legs.”
He rests his free hand on his hip and bends down to my eye level. “I don’t exactly have a front yard or porch swing to lounge in, so it’s not a big surprise that we haven’t run into each other. And I didn’t run out with my tail between my legs.”
“Well … whatever. Welcome to the neighborhood.”
Turning on my heels, I sally forth down the stairs.
“Wait!”
I stop, keeping my back to him.
“Thank you for the shirt. You said something that hit a little too close to home and I didn’t know how to react so … I left. It was a dick move and … I’m sorry.”
I nod once and continue across the street.
“Hey! Do you want to come in for a drink or something?”
“Not today.”
“Are we good?” he yells.
Unlocking my door without looking back, I flash him the A-OK sign with my left hand.
Oliver
I pour myself a scotch and collapse on my back deck. Normally I wouldn’t turn to hard liquor before five o’clock, but the black magic my new neighbor across the street weaves requires something stronger than a Sam Adams. I had the upper hand when she nearly choked on her own saliva as I shrugged off my shirt in the middle of Harvard Square. It was completely unnecessary, but I wanted to see how she’d react. I’m not sure why, since I have no intention of acting on any of my dick brain impulses. The impulses she feeds like blood to sharks. The crazy part is I honestly don’t think she has a clue what she does to me and probably every other straight guy she encounters. Seriously, what was that today? Finger fucking her doughnut then sucking it off like she was giving a tutorial on blow jobs?