Read Online Olivia Christakos and Her Second First Time by Dani Irons - Free Book Online
Authors: Dani Irons
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because he says, “All right, kitten number two, let’s go help your mother with lunch.”
Natalie opens her mouth to protest, but Dion tickles her into a serious bout of laughter. He closes the door behind them.
I fling the covers off the best I can with one working arm—grateful for the meds keeping the rib pain at bay—and sit at the edge of the bed. “I thought we had a deal.”
His face hardens. “You’re not the only one in some kind of pain. It’s hard for me, too. To be away from you, it’s—”
“How hard it is for
you
?” The boiling anger inside me steams. “Are you serious? Have you even thought for a second about how hard all this is on
me
? How I don’t even know my own name but I’m supposed to put up with a clingy boyfriend who likes to wear brown wool socks up to his knees and being lectured by strangers claiming to know what’s best for me? This body...it isn’t mine. This mind...isn’t mine. I have nothing in this world right now. Nothing. And yet you’re going to stand there and complain when all I’ve asked for is a little space?”
He clenches his jaw, but doesn’t reply. I push him some more. “Have we had sex?”
He takes a deep breath. “No.”
I laugh. “So you’re telling me in five years nothing has happened between us? That seems impossible.”
He shrugs. “You’re Greek Orthodox. You kind of wanted to wait until you’re married.”
I gasp. I’m a twenty-year-old
virgin?
I shake my head. His words don’t feel right. They can’t be right.
Wyatt’s eyes drop from mine and he studies the carpet. When he’s looking away from me, I take him all in. He’s good-looking, in a nerdy way, which is supposed to be sexy...isn’t it? His brown hair is cut long and curls all over the place. He’s tall and on the skinny side, dorky, but like, a doable dorky.
Is this my type
? I wonder.
Really
?
“Tell me something about me that only you would know,” I say.
“What? Like what?”
I shrug. “You tell me. At the hospital, my parents were required to show a birth certificate and mail with my name on it to prove I’m theirs. The only person not verified is you.”
“Verified?”
I nod. I know I sound cold, but it shouldn’t be too much to ask of a person I don’t remember to prove that they know me. I mean, I know my standby emotion right now is suspicion, but if we’ve been together for five years, he should have no problem coming up with something. “Do you have pictures of us together?”
He hesitates.
“You do, don’t you?”
He pulls his phone from his pocket, taps a few things and hands it to me. “This one’s the most recent.” He actually sounds proud of himself.
It’s a horrible picture. I’m sweating, red, and smiling lopsidedly—obviously super drunk. My eyelids are at half-mast. Wyatt’s cheek is pressed to mine, but he isn’t smiling.
“Why do you look so pissed? Because I was drunk?”
He shrugs. “I guess.”
I hand him back the phone. “That’s not enough. Tell me something only I would know.”
“How am I supposed to do that when you don’t even remember your own name?”
“Figure something out. Until then, we’re broken up.”
The sudden look of shock on his face surprises me. He doesn’t like my declaration at all. He sets his jaw, suddenly looking much older. “You rarely wear pants,” he says. “You think your butt looks better in skirts, especially short skirts. You’ve always kind of wanted a boob job, but don’t have the guts to go under the knife. You get goose bumps when you’re nervous and you shaved the underside of your hair in high school. To this day, your parents don’t know.”
He pauses, a cocky smile playing on his face.
I shake my head. “No. Not good enough. A friend of the family or someone I went to school with could know those things. I mean,
prove
it.”
He walks over, grabs my face, and leans down as if to kiss me. I rip away from his grasp, surprised as hell. My body pulses in
Natalie opens her mouth to protest, but Dion tickles her into a serious bout of laughter. He closes the door behind them.
I fling the covers off the best I can with one working arm—grateful for the meds keeping the rib pain at bay—and sit at the edge of the bed. “I thought we had a deal.”
His face hardens. “You’re not the only one in some kind of pain. It’s hard for me, too. To be away from you, it’s—”
“How hard it is for
you
?” The boiling anger inside me steams. “Are you serious? Have you even thought for a second about how hard all this is on
me
? How I don’t even know my own name but I’m supposed to put up with a clingy boyfriend who likes to wear brown wool socks up to his knees and being lectured by strangers claiming to know what’s best for me? This body...it isn’t mine. This mind...isn’t mine. I have nothing in this world right now. Nothing. And yet you’re going to stand there and complain when all I’ve asked for is a little space?”
He clenches his jaw, but doesn’t reply. I push him some more. “Have we had sex?”
He takes a deep breath. “No.”
I laugh. “So you’re telling me in five years nothing has happened between us? That seems impossible.”
He shrugs. “You’re Greek Orthodox. You kind of wanted to wait until you’re married.”
I gasp. I’m a twenty-year-old
virgin?
I shake my head. His words don’t feel right. They can’t be right.
Wyatt’s eyes drop from mine and he studies the carpet. When he’s looking away from me, I take him all in. He’s good-looking, in a nerdy way, which is supposed to be sexy...isn’t it? His brown hair is cut long and curls all over the place. He’s tall and on the skinny side, dorky, but like, a doable dorky.
Is this my type
? I wonder.
Really
?
“Tell me something about me that only you would know,” I say.
“What? Like what?”
I shrug. “You tell me. At the hospital, my parents were required to show a birth certificate and mail with my name on it to prove I’m theirs. The only person not verified is you.”
“Verified?”
I nod. I know I sound cold, but it shouldn’t be too much to ask of a person I don’t remember to prove that they know me. I mean, I know my standby emotion right now is suspicion, but if we’ve been together for five years, he should have no problem coming up with something. “Do you have pictures of us together?”
He hesitates.
“You do, don’t you?”
He pulls his phone from his pocket, taps a few things and hands it to me. “This one’s the most recent.” He actually sounds proud of himself.
It’s a horrible picture. I’m sweating, red, and smiling lopsidedly—obviously super drunk. My eyelids are at half-mast. Wyatt’s cheek is pressed to mine, but he isn’t smiling.
“Why do you look so pissed? Because I was drunk?”
He shrugs. “I guess.”
I hand him back the phone. “That’s not enough. Tell me something only I would know.”
“How am I supposed to do that when you don’t even remember your own name?”
“Figure something out. Until then, we’re broken up.”
The sudden look of shock on his face surprises me. He doesn’t like my declaration at all. He sets his jaw, suddenly looking much older. “You rarely wear pants,” he says. “You think your butt looks better in skirts, especially short skirts. You’ve always kind of wanted a boob job, but don’t have the guts to go under the knife. You get goose bumps when you’re nervous and you shaved the underside of your hair in high school. To this day, your parents don’t know.”
He pauses, a cocky smile playing on his face.
I shake my head. “No. Not good enough. A friend of the family or someone I went to school with could know those things. I mean,
prove
it.”
He walks over, grabs my face, and leans down as if to kiss me. I rip away from his grasp, surprised as hell. My body pulses in
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