Dancer's Body

Chapter 16

She pressed herself against the hallway wall to let the movers pass. Wyatt's new building seemed strangely grown-up, with neighbors carrying babies and no whiteboards plastered to the doors. It smelled of new paint, and she was sure nobody left their doors unlocked.

"Last one," she said, setting the box of condiments and spices on the counter.

"Thanks," Wyatt said, turning back to one of the movers and signing off on the completed job.

Olivia looked at her watch. It was past noon, and she was slick with sweat. One of those rare, hot Portland days had snuck up on her and she was dressed in too many layers. Her jeans were damp and her long-sleeved tee-shirt was rolled above her elbows.

She grabbed a water bottle out of the otherwise barren fridge and waved to the movers as they left. "Oh, my God," she said to Wyatt. "What a day to move."

"At least there's air conditioning," he said. "Or there will be soon, when maintenance gets here tomorrow." He looked towards the brand-new unit, which apparently wasn't installed correctly.

"Yeah, but that's not really helpful right now."

He shrugged. "Come on," he said, taking her hand and leading her to the couch. He pulled a bottle of red wine and two glasses out of one of the boxes.

"Did you plan to have that ready?" she asked.

"Kind of," he said. "Although, I have to admit I got lucky that I didn't misplace this particular box. See? I put an O on it." He pointed to the circle and she smiled. It was like the early days.

Wyatt popped the cork and poured them both a glass. "Here's to the next step," he said. "And just think—the next time you drink, you'll probably be legal."

She giggled. Olivia had forgotten all about her impending birthday.

"So," he said, taking a sip. "Have you thought any more about moving in?"

She cradled the glass in her hand. "Wyatt ..."

"You know what? Never mind. We don't need to make those kinds of decisions this second. There's still some time before the end of the month."

She smiled at him, grateful. As he began to recount the anxiety of waiting to hear who he got placed with, she looked around. The high ceilings, orange peel beige walls and intentionally frameless windows lent a contemporary, metro vibe to the apartment. Wyatt held up the bottle when her glass was empty, but she shook her head. "Just a little more," he said, and she let him re-fill the glass.

By the time she'd finished the second glass, she was solidly buzzed.

"Hey, come here, let me show you something," he said. He took her hand again and pulled her up.

In his new bedroom, the curtain-less windows displayed the city below. The Willamette River was even visible, with the dragon boats docked on the east side. "It's beautiful," she said, fingering the delicate stem of the wine glass. So, this is what it feels like to be a grownup.

"You're beautiful," he said lowly, circling his arms around her waist from behind. She relaxed, bathed in the compliment, and leaned her head back against his chest. "Hey," he said.

"Hmm?"

He reached in front of her, took the empty glass, and set it on the windowsill. Turning her around, she faced the bare mattress. "Let's break this in," he said into her ear.

"Wyatt, no," she said, trying to move away from him, but his grip was firm. "Let me go!" she said, trying to unclench his arms. She felt a hardness swell against her thigh.