Only Oscar (Wattys 2022 Shortlist!)

Chapter Eight

Oscar flagged a cab, hopeful the short travel time to Callie's place would help clear his head.

He'd almost kissed her.

Not a friendly peck on the cheek or an amicable brush of his mouth over the corner of hers. A full on, no holds barred, 'I want you, let's-have-sex-soon' kiss.

The realization hit him with the force of a wrecking ball, demolishing his perception of their relationship.

One minute they were dancing and having fun like they always did and in the next, he had a raging hard on and was fantasizing about taking her clothes off so he could kiss her everywhere. The invisible door in his mind had swung wide open, revealing everything he'd kept hidden from himself and now he couldn't get the damn thing shut again.

He knew how the curves of her body fitted into his, could still feel the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips and smell the floral shampoo in her hair. It didn't help there was no way in hell she was wearing a bra under that blouse or that his imagination convinced him that he could feel her nipples beaded against his chest.

To make matters worse, he realized it wasn't the first time he'd noticed the things a friend would have ignored. They were familiar to him, indelibly imprinted on his mind.

He'd simply chosen to forget them.

As far as his heart was concerned, that he loved her had never been in doubt. She was Callie and his reaction to the prospect of a life without her said it all. He would do everything possible to protect what they had. But what if he was the threat?

Unless he'd misinterpreted how she looked at him - the darkening awareness in her big brown eyes and the way she focused on his mouth - he wasn't the only one who felt something ignite between them. But what if was he was wrong? What if he made a move before she was ready? What if he was the one who pushed them apart?

A few blocks from her apartment, Callie said she wanted to walk the rest of the way. Was the sexual tension getting to her, too? Could she feel it crackling in the air between them, magnified within the confines of the cab? Maybe she didn't feel anything at all. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on his behalf.

Despite the humidity outside, she shivered after a few steps.

Oscar automatically took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. "One of these days you'll remember to bring your own jacket."

She shrugged. "Didn't need one 'til now."

It was the same explanation he got every time. Callie traveled light; her credit card, a couple of bills folded around it in case she needed cash, keys, her phone, and she was good to go. The only other thing she ever carried was a lipstick. She wasn't one hundred percent tomboy or girly-girl. She was a mixture of both.

During their teens, it was a combo which made it difficult for her to fit in. But from Oscar's point of view, it made her perfect for him. They were misfits together. It was them against the world. And for more than a decade, neither one of them had been hard to find. He was at her house or she was at his.

Apart from one little bump along the way, they'd been inseparable.

The thought of tainting all the precious memories they'd made together by making a pass at her, particularly if he was rejected...

"One of the biggest clichés out there is when a guy gives a girl his jacket," he mock complained, attempting to put them back on more familiar ground.

"I think it's sweet."

"Great," he said dryly. "Next you'll call me cute."

"Are you fishing for a compliment, Mr. Levinson?"