Gabriel pointed over to the door by the stairs. I tried to catch Hollie’s eye to see if she wanted me to go with her, but she’d already turned to go. She’d been so adamant she didn’t want me going into the party before her, I wasn’t sure if she was okay to be on her own. “You think I should go?” I asked Stella.
She frowned. “No. She would have asked you to help her with her hat if she hadn’t wanted to go by herself.”
I nodded. “Yeah, hadn’t thought of that.”
“But it’s very sweet that you’re considering her feelings. You’re very . . . touchy with each other,” she said.
“We’re not,” I said. Yes, I was holding her hand when we came in, and perhaps I’d given her a reassuring back stroke. But I wanted Hollie to feel comfortable. And it was rare for there to be so many people surrounding us. I just wanted her to know that I was . . . here. “No more than you and Beck.”
“Yeah, Beck and I are very touchy. It’s not a criticism. It’s nice to see you like that with a woman.”
I was about to defend myself and say how it was no different from any other girlfriend, but there was no point. I’d never had the same desire to touch a woman every moment the way I did with Hollie, and although I’d not thought about it consciously before, no doubt that was obvious from someone like Stella’s point of view.
“But you know the thing that makes me sure she’s a winner?” Stella asked.
“Go on,” I said, making clear from my tone that I didn’t want to know.
“Her costume.”
I laughed. “You think Hollie is my perfect match because she’s dressed as a Dr. Seuss character?”
“Absolutely. She could have come as Wonder Woman or Catgirl. Or Princess Leia in that bloody gold bikini. But she came in a onesie. I like the lack of vanity. She’d be completely entitled to come as some super-sexy character, but I like that she didn’t. It proves there’s more to her than the pretty face. She’s quirky.”
“She’s not that quirky,” I said defensively. I didn’t want Stella to think Hollie was some kind of novelty. “She’s just . . .”
I couldn’t find the right word because Hollie deserved more than a throwaway phrase to describe her. She was more interesting than that.
“You like her.”
“Of course I like her or I wouldn’t be hanging out with her.” I could feel myself falling into the same old argument I had with all my friends—how yes, she was a nice girl but how she wasn’t Bridget. Only this time, I stopped myself. “But yes, I really like her.”
Beck interrupted us. “What are you two gossiping about? Hollie? I like her outfit. Thank God she didn’t wear that Princess Leia bikini or you would be competing with Tristan.”
Women who flirted with my friends to get my attention didn’t last long. “No, I don’t think I would,” I said. “Hollie’s not like that.”
I didn’t miss the nudge Stella gave Beck. It was to be expected, I guessed. I liked Hollie a lot, and it was only in the context of the outside world that it was so obvious.
“I like her outfit,” Beck said. “Shows she’s a woman with her own mind.”
“That’s what I said,” Stella replied.
And that was what Hollie was for me—unlike anyone else I’d ever met. She was just . . . Hollie.
Twenty
Hollie
“Today is Friday,” Dexter announced from where he was lying in his bed, watching me scrabble about, collecting bits of clothing from where they were strewn last night.
“Honestly, Dexter, I think we need to get you in for some lab tests. You’re beyond smart,” I replied. “What other nuggets of wisdom do you have? Grass is green? I’m American?”
I glanced up to find him grinning at me.
“I really like you,” he said, sliding one hand behind his head. The sheets shifted to reveal more of that hard torso that felt so very, very good under my hands. Darn, he was distracting.
“I’m naturally very charming,” I replied, trying to stay focused.
“And now, you’re picking up all your stuff so you can go back to your place after work before turning right back around and coming here tonight. Just like you did yesterday, and the day before. Only today is Friday.”
I was going to be late if I didn’t get a move on. “Do you have a point or are you just running through what my day is going to look like? My boss is a real asshole, and if I’m late, there’s no telling what he might do.”
“I’m serious, Hollie,” he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and padding into the bathroom. He was acting like he made any kind of sense. “What’s the point in you going home every morning? Like now, for example. Why don’t you have a shower here? If you don’t want to drive into work with me, fine, but there’s no point in leaving at six just so you can shower on the other side of town. It’s crazy.”