Only Oscar (Wattys 2022 Shortlist!)

Chapter Four

The next time Callie saw Talia, she was going to kick her ass. 

She couldn't believe she'd looked at Oscar's crotch. Who did that? And to make matters worse, he saw her look.  To say things had been awkward between them since they left her apartment would be a massive understatement. It was only a matter of time before he demanded an explanation and he had a right to one, too. She'd practically assaulted him with her eyes. He probably felt the need to go and scrub himself down.

Trying to avoid the subject for as long as possible as they exited the subway station and walked towards Macy's, she casually inquired, "Have you heard from Princess Perky?"

"No," he replied a little absentmindedly. "Why?"

"Do you miss her?"

"I'm not crying into my pillow at night if that's what you're worried about." He shot her a glance from the corner of his eye. "Why?"

Callie shrugged a shoulder. "Just curious."

They continued walking, the lack of their usual ease with each other making her more aware of his presence than usual. He wasn't much taller than her when she wore heels, but in sneakers the extra five inches was more noticeable. She was more aware of his proportions, too. The width of his shoulders, the breadth of his chest. Oscar was always solid rather than chunky but now he looked lean. Had he lost weight?

"You didn't like her," he said.

"Doesn't matter what I thought."

"That's not true and you know it."

"I never pay any attention to what you think about the guys I date," she countered.

"And look where it's got you."

Ouch.

The next time she glanced at him, he had his head tilted back and was focused on the strip of cloudless sky between the tall buildings in a way which suggested he was pleading for patience from above. He drew in a long breath which lifted his chest beneath the material of his charcoal sweater while the light enhanced the vivid blue of his eyes and made the contrast with his thick, dark lashes more noticeable.

She'd always thought he had nice eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said. "That was harsh."

"True, though."

The silence returned as they continued walking, adopting the typical New Yorker attitude of sticking to a straight line, forcing everyone else to get out of the way. Places to go, people to see, no time to stop and take in any of the iconic sights. It was an indication of how far they'd come since they moved to the city.

After another couple of minutes, Oscar sighed heavily. "You gonna tell me what's going on at any point or are we spending the rest of the day trying to avoid it?"

"There's not –" She made the mistake of looking at him again and, in doing so, missed what was right in front of her.

Oscar's automatic reaction was to reach out and lay a palm on the inward curve of her spine to guide her around the obstacle. She barely noticed what it was – a pushchair, perhaps? – as her increased awareness of him added weight and warmth to his touch. She jumped as the latter seeped through her T-Shirt and into her veins, and the tell-tale action made her startled gaze fly to his as they both stilled.

His arm dropped to his side. Then he frowned and turned towards her.

"Okay, that's it," he said firmly. "We're not moving from here 'til you tell me what's going on."