Kiss Me Like You Mean It

Hannah’s voice woke us up the next morning. “Seriously, Oliver—in your mum’s house?” I cracked one eye open to see her roll her eyes before leaving his doorway.

I didn’t particularly care if Hannah thought I was a slut, but a weird twinge in my stomach hoped she wouldn’t influence Oliver’s parents into thinking as such.

The thunderstorm outside from the day before had turned into a snowstorm sometime throughout the night, so as I peered outside Oliver’s bedroom window, I was pretty sure his mom wasn’t letting us leave anytime soon because at least six inches had accumulated on the property.

“I’m gonna go wash up,” I declared, patting Oliver’s stomach.

He simply grumbled, “My toothbrush is the blue one,” in response.

I helped myself to a pair of his sweatpants and a tee-shirt before walking to the bathroom and turning the faucet on to the hot side. Thoughts of Oliver and Hannah swarmed my head throughout my entire shower because while a part of me was beginning to come to terms with the fact that maybe I liked him a little more than I was comfortable with, the anger that he would never pick some stranger that he’d known for less than a month over his wife pricked my conscious too much for me to dwell too long on the former.

Once finishing up, I made my way back to his bedroom, and upon entering the doorway, I immediately felt my entire body flood with angered heat and stinging rejection. I knew the whole point of Oliver pretending to date me was so that he could French his wife again, but after actually seeing it happen in his old bedroom, right where he’d done the same to me not too long before, I just didn’t know how he could do it. I figured he would’ve at least had the decency to not do it in a place where I could see it.

He seemed like such a sweet, sensitive person—how could he think it would be okay for me to see that? How could he think that I’d be okay with seeing that?

It was as if someone had shut off my conscious, and I was just walking in a hypnotic state, then. I turned on one heel, went back to the bathroom, and changed back into my dirty dress and black tights. With nothing more, not a word to Oliver’s brother or his parents, I walked out of the house in my black stilettos and black parka, pulled the faux fur hood over my hair, and walked down the street.

After about twenty minutes of walking and completely losing my bearings, I searched my Uber app for a driver near my location, made one call, and waited. By the time an old, silver Ford Taurus pulled up, I was so cold that I was almost starting to feel warm.

My driver’s name was Ryan Samuels; he looked like Jesse Soffer would if the actor lost about twenty pounds and tattooed his entire left arm with Alice In Wonderland characters; and he offered me a friendly smile as I situated myself into the passenger seat.

“Where too, ma’am?” He had an American accent, as if he might’ve been from Texas or Georgia, which just confused me even more than I’d already been in my life.

I just gave him Oliver’s address and sat back quietly. He kept glancing at me, so after about the tenth time he did it, I snapped at him. “What?”

He held one hand up defensively. “You look a bit peeved, that’s all.”

“Yeah, well I’m not.” I folded my arms over my chest indignantly and peered out the window of the passenger side door.

Then, one of the only popular songs on the radio that I knew by name—“Roses” by The Chainsmokers—began playing on the radio, and I swore this Ryan Samuels was fucking with me.

Well I’ll be your daydream; I’ll be your favorite things. We could be beautiful.

“Really?” I demanded, turning back to him.

Say you’ll never let me go.

“Oh,” he droned out, “so it’s a lover-gone-wrong, then, ain’t it?”

I just rolled my eyes, but I didn’t want to change the station. I was at the same point then that I’d been for the first month that Shawn had broken up with me—purposely torturing myself with heartbreakingly relevant songs that pulled on the strings of my heart and made me want to cry.

“Well as far as your looks, then, ma’am, it’s his loss,” Ryan comforted with a smile. “As long as you’re not crazy or nothing, it’s his loss.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, “but the other woman is gorgeous.” I couldn’t believe I had fallen to that level—talking to a complete stranger about my life’s problems.

“Is she crazy?” he asked with a smirk on his face—but I was pretty sure his lips were just permanently curled upward, which did make him kind of cute.

“I don’t think so, but she’s a bitch,” I replied. “I’d bet my entire life savings that she married him for his money. I mean, granted, my life savings isn’t a lot of money, but that’s how sure I am that she’s a gold-digging, conniving, little cu—”

“Whoa, there, little lady,” he interrupted, laughing nervously. “My mama raised me not liking that C-U-next-Tuesday word much, so let’s skip over the name-calling, why don’t we? What happened—he went back to her after playing you?”

I pursed my lips and unfolded my arms. “I can’t even get mad, really. What was supposed to happen is exactly what happened. He was only pretending to like me in that way to win her back—and I wasn’t even expecting to like him that much, but he’s really charming. I don’t know how he does it.” I shook my head, completely mystified at Oliver’s abilities.

“Sounds like you got yourself into a bit of a pickle, little lady.”

“You reiterating what I already know isn’t helping me,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes at him.

He laughed at that. “Well what do you want me to tell you? If you think it could work out, then you march yourself right back to wherever he is and tell him that. Otherwise, you march yourself right back home and forget he ever existed, ma’am—that’s all I can suggest.”

Ryan was right, no matter how much I wanted to admit it—and the only reason I didn’t want to admit it was because I didn’t think it could work out between Oliver and me, and I didn’t want to march myself back to Leeds Bradford Airport alone.

I had to, though.