Dancer's Body

Chapter 13

She's sweeping her hair up into a loose ponytail when her phone vibrates on the bathroom counter. Oh my God, Wyatt, calm down. He'd been blowing up her phone all morning, desperately worried about the plan for graduation. He'd told her countless times what time his parents were picking her up, the dress he wanted her to wear, and even questions to ask his older brothers.

"I do hope your night wasn't ruined." It was a strange number, a New York area code, and she knew immediately who it was. Her body responded instantly, a wave of heat flooding her.

She picked up the phone and toyed with it. Hannah would tell her to wait to respond. Make him wonder, ponder. In an ideal world, he'd even text a second time, concerned that perhaps he'd said something wrong. But the phone remained still and silent. Roman wouldn't indulge in such games. "Not at all," she replied, resisting the urge to put a smiley face.

Olivia watched the ellipses pulse as she looked in the mirror and pulled the tie out of her hair. You look quite lovely with your hair down. "Plans today?"

She stared at her phone. Was he asking her out? Asking her to come into work? She wasn't sure how to respond.

"It's graduation," she tapped into her phone, then backtracked. "It's Wyatt's graduation." Finally, as much as she hated to, she plugged in, "It's my bf's graduation." He likely wouldn't remember Wyatt's name, and yet typing out the full "boyfriend" made her feel like she was ambushing herself.

"And?" She leaned against the counter and ran her thumb across the screen. If this was a game, it was one she was unfamiliar with. Olivia looked up and held her own reflection. As she considered a reply, she dug through Hannah's makeup bag and pulled out the red lipstick.

"And I have to go to commencement and lunch with his family," she replied, swiping the tube against her lips. It was the final pop of color she needed to complement the floral dress showcasing red roses that Wyatt loved. He used to tell her it made her look like a 1950s housewife "in a good way."

For the next hour, she played mouse to his cat. Sitting on her bed, it annoyed her when the occasional text from Wyatt would break through their volleying. Roman never once asked about the internship, and she became confident that these exchanges were far outside the realm of work.

"What are you wearing?" Roman asked when she told him about the upscale post-commencement activities. Somehow, he managed to leave the intrigue in such a common pickup line without it seeming overused or obtuse. The complete lack of non-sexual cues was driving her crazy.

"Floral dress," she said, resisting the urge to say more. She looked towards her nightstand and slid the drawer open. The vibrator was prominently displayed. Olivia ran her fingers across the cool metal, instantly being brought back to the last—and first—time she'd used it.

"Sounds lovely," he replied. There was that word again. Olivia picked up the vibrator and rolled it in her palm.

"Five minutes away," Wyatt texted. His nerves were evident, even through the phone. "Where are you?" God, he acted like she couldn't be trusted to do anything.

"Waiting for you in my bedroom," she replied, her fingers whip-fast. She threw her phone down on the bed and tossed the vibrator back in the drawer. Get it together.

Exhaling deeply, she stood up, tucked her hair behind her ears and dove into the depths of her closet for her strappy heels. The phone buzzed insistently on her bed. Calm down, I'm coming!

The New York number was displayed as the incoming call—and she saw in the glowing text history that she'd texted her comment about waiting in her bedroom to Roman. Fuck.