18
DON’T GO BACON MY HEART
Olivia
YOU PROBABLY THINK THERE’S NO reason one would need to kiss their partner during a twelfth grade gym class, but you’d be wrong.
Just shy of eighteen years old and they’ve got a better love life than me.
“Aw, c’mon.” I hike a brow as the kissing turns into an aggressive game of tonsil hockey. “Okay, ladies, that’s enough.”
I prop my sts on my hips as Lucy and Jean ignore me. It’s my own fault; I’m way too friendly and lenient with my students, and it sometimes backres. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve broken apart public displays of aection.
“Nope. Nope, nope, nope, nope.” I clap my hands ve hundred times until they stop. “Here’s an idea: wait until class ends.”
They break away with a laugh, and Lucy tosses her arm around my shoulders.
“Sorry, Miss Parker. You’re the only cool teacher at this school.”
“Don’t try to butter me up with that cool teacher bullshit.” I shove a set of pylons into her hands. “Set these up along the red line, please.”
“Aw, man.” Jean groans. “Not shuttle sprints.”
“Yes, shuttle sprints. This is a tness class, Miss Ross. You joined it of your own volition.”
She crosses her arms and frowns, scung at the oor. “Lucy made me.”
“Oh, the things we do for love.”
Lucy jogs back over after setting out the pylons. “You okay, Miss Parker? You seem a little, I dunno…” She waves a hand around my face. “Sad, lately.”
“Me? Sad? No, I’m totally ne. Super-duper ne.” Super-duper fine, ladies and gentlemen.
Paul swaggers over, dropping his elbow to Lucy’s shoulder. “Yeah, what gives? You’ve barely laughed at any of my jokes.”
“Maybe you need to work on your material.”
“Please. I’m funny as fu—” He pauses at my arched brow. “Frick. Funny as frick.”
“Right, well—” The gym doors burst open, and I clap a hand over my eyes and sigh as a gorgeous, leggy blonde sweeps into the space, all eyes on her as she tears o her oversized sunglasses. “For shit’s sake. Cara! You can’t just barge in
here! I’m in the middle of a class!”
She icks her wrist. “Class dismissed.”
“What? No! No, class isn’t dismissed.” I point at my students, all twenty-one sets of eyes bouncing between me and Cara. “Stay!”
Cara slumps theatrically. “C’mon, Miss Parker. It’s the last class of the day.
Let these kids have some fun. Be cool.”
“I’m cool! I’m fun! We have lots of fun here!” I look around for validation, pinning my arms across my chest when I don’t get it. “Fine. Go. But anyone who’s late tomorrow is doing burpees.”
Tapping my foot, I watch as my students high-ve my best friend. This isn’t the rst time this has happened, and it won’t be the last. Cara works on nobody’s schedule but her own, and my principal has a crush on her, so she strolls through those gym doors way too often.
Cara ashes me what I’m sure she thinks is a charming grin before gesturing to my oce. “Step into my oce, Miss Parker.”
“It’s my oce,” I hu, then dash forward in an unsuccessful attempt to beat her there.
She sinks to my chair, twisting back and forth, ngers steepled at her chin.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“You are so incredibly irritating, you know that?”
She grins. “I really do, but I gured we were overdue for a work visit. Plus, those kids love me.”
“Because they get a free period every time you show up.”
“I’d make a great teacher.” Her eyes sparkle, and the way they linger on me unnerves me. Cara’s always had a way of seeing right through me. “What’s your plan for this weekend? You can’t avoid him, you know. He’s going to be there.”
I op down to the chair across from my desk, legs over the armrest. “Who the hell manages to throw together such an extravagant engagement party only two weeks after the engagement?” I don’t touch on the fact that tomorrow night was supposed to be mine and Carter’s movie date.
“I have my connections.”
Her connections are that she owns her own event planning business, is absolutely unstoppable in party-planning mode, and when she needs something she doesn’t have—like, say, a venue on such short notice—she knows how to be persuasive. And I don’t mean irty; I mean utterly terrifying.
“In fact, he’s the best man, so you’re gonna be walking down the aisle together at the wedding.”
The noises I make are not a coherent response. They’re mostly a string of grumbled curse words that make Cara grin.
“C’mon. What’s going through your mind? You’re keeping so much bottled up. I need you to talk to me.”
I tug on the sleeves of my sweater. “I know he didn’t do anything with that Sandie girl, and he’s allowed to be with whoever he wants; I’m the one that walked away. But it’s still scary, you know? He meant to hook up with her. It was his rst knee-jerk reaction.” I look away. “I can’t help but wonder if he’ll always try to hurt me when he’s angry with me, but at the same time, I know I hurt him rst.”
“Sounds like you’ve both made some decisions recently based out of fear.”
“It feels like this vicious circle. Like a carousel that won’t stop. I want to climb o, but I don’t know how to get it to slow down.”
“Yes, you do. You need to decide to leave it all where it is or move forward.”
She walks to the whiteboard that hangs on the wall, picking up a marker. “So here’s what we’re gonna do.” She scrawls Carter Beckett across the top of the board, underlines it three times, then draws a stick gure with a giant penis. I’m going to need to erase this immediately. She nishes with a heart on the left and a frowny face on the right.
“We are not making a pros and cons list.”
“Think of it as a list of likes and dislikes.” She taps the frowny face. “Now,
things you don’t—”
“He’s a playboy.”
“Previous… fear… of… commitment,” she scribes, which is not at all what I said.
“He’s arrogant, cocky, and ashy.” Except the second the marker touches the board, I stop her. “Wait. I think I kinda like that. He’s… proud. Charismatic.
Condent. I think they’re good qualities. I wish I was as sure of myself as he is.”
Then we likely wouldn’t be in this mess.
“Hm. Interesting.” She adds them below the heart. “You’re obviously very physically attracted to him.”
“Duh. I wanna tap that man like a maple tree.”
“And he’s funny.”
I nod, running the tip of my ngernail across my lower lip. “He makes me laugh a lot, and he’s kind of a big goofball. He makes me feel good about myself.
He’s painfully honest, and I like the way he smells and the way he plays with my hair. And when he looks at me… when he looks at me, it’s like it’s only me and him. I like the way he looks at me. I like that his house is his escape, that he likes to stare at the stars and the mountains and forget the noise. He has the prettiest smile and the best dimples, and he was so sweet with the kids at the fundraiser and such a good sport at taking pies to the face, and he’s a good friend, and—”
My heart patters so fast, I stop, laying my hand over it. Through it all, Cara
watches me with a soft smile.
“Bet he’s a good snuggler.”
Warmth spreads from my belly and up into my chest as memories play over in my head. The way Carter hauled me against him after each round, his face in the crook of my neck as his lips painted my skin, his hand on my throat as he kept me right where he wanted me, one arm wrapped around me so tight, like he was afraid I might slip away.
Cara touches the hockey skate charm hanging from my lanyard, smiling before gesturing at the board. It’s full below the heart, a stark contrast to the frowny face. “Looks like you have your answer.”
I wring my hands, my throat tight. “I know I do. But that doesn’t make it less scary. His past was his present only a month ago. My fears are logical and warranted, aren’t they?”
“I understand, Liv. It’s impossible to ignore the caution signs, especially when they’re constantly being thrust in your face everywhere you turn. Carter’s never shied away from his decisions, or from them being splashed about so publicly. It’s unnerving, and of course it’s going to make you question his intentions. At the end of the day, though, you’re letting fear of the unknown dictate your life.” She reaches forward, giving my ponytail a little tug. “So are your fears warranted? Absolutely. But it’s up to you to rise above them, to step outside your comfort zone and put yourself out there, if you want to explore this thing with Carter. What do you think?”
I sink down to the chair, my cheek propped on my st. “I can’t stop thinking about him. Everything feels natural with him, and he pushes me to open up. For someone so assertive, he’s always been incredibly patient with me. I think… I think I’d really like for both of us to give this a chance, if he still wants that.”
Cara snorts and pulls out her phone, showing me a text thread with a contact labeled World’s Most Annoying Man. is ollie ok? i don’t want her 2 be upset about that girl. does she hate me? do u think she wants to talk maybe 1 day soon? maybe i could send her flowers???? roses? sunflowers? seems like a bright flower
kinda girl. i think i miss her, care. this sucks.
“Safe to say he still wants to give it a shot, Liv.” She leans against my desk, nudging the toe of my shoe with hers. “I’m proud of you. Going after what you want sounds easy, but sometimes it’s just fucking scary. I think leaving when you did gave you the chance to step back and gain some clarity on the intensity of your feelings and what you wanted.”
The school bell rings, and Cara slings her purse over her shoulder and tosses my things at me.
“Did you get your dress sorted for Saturday?”
I groan as we slip out the gym doors. “I’ve been to the mall twice this week and I can’t nd anything.”
“All right, o to the mall we go. You need my expertise.”
“I don’t have time for a Cara-sized trip to the mall. I’ve gotta be home by ve.
Jeremy’s dropping Alannah o.”
“Oh, sweet Livvie. We’ll be in and out in a half hour. I promise you.”
WE’RE IN AND OUT IN seventeen minutes.
Cara towed me into a store, waltzed up to a rack, picked a dress in nine seconds, shoved me into the change room, and then made every single employee come look at how “fucktacular” I looked. Truthfully, I couldn’t disagree, hence the seventeen-minute trip.
Now she’s invited herself over for dinner, hell-bent on getting my niece riled up before bed. Alannah’s sleeping over because tomorrow is Take Your Kid to Work Day, and she begged me to come to school with me so she could boss around the big kids.
“I’ll be quick,” Cara promises as she pulls into her driveway. “Just need to grab something. Why don’t you come in and say hi to Em?”
“If you’re going to be qu—”
She slams the door, gesturing through the windshield for me to follow her, and with a sigh, I follow my bossy best friend.
I should’ve known it was a trap.
Because when she shoves me toward the kitchen, instead of only Emmett, I get the impossibly large frame of Mr. Beckett, frozen while he stares at me from halfway inside the opened fridge, jaw dangling.
“Hey! Hi! Olivia!” He’s yelling; I don’t know if he realizes. “G-good,” he sputters. “You look good!” Still yelling. He slams the fridge door and drops his elbow to the countertop, nearly missing his chin when he tries to prop it up in his palm.
I look down at my outt. I’m in my running shoes, a pair of leggings, and a hoodie with my niece’s hockey team’s logo on it. My hair’s in a messy, low ponytail, tucked beneath a toque, and I look like I spent the day teaching tness,
which is exactly what I did. Carter looks like he spent the day lounging on the couch and still belongs on the cover of GQ. His charcoal sweatpants hang low on his hips, highlighting what I know to be an entirely too-impressive package, and his Vipers shirt clings to his awlessly sculpted torso.
“Oops!” Cara sashays into the room. “Carter! Totally forgot you were here!”
“Uh-huh,” Emmett muses. “Forgot.” His air quotes are perfectly placed.
“We’re gonna order pizza. You ladies staying?”
“Can’t,” Cara tells him, which is good, because I certainly can’t speak. “Send some to Liv’s. We’re eating there.”
Carter and I are having an epic stare down. I can’t look away, nor do I really want to.
Until Cara takes my hand, dragging me toward the door.
My mouth quirks, and I give Carter a tiny wave. “Bye,” I whisper.
His entire face shatters with a cheek-splitting grin.
“Wait!” Both hands come up as his body does this weird rock-swivel thing, like he has no idea what he’s looking for. Then he launches into the living room and returns a moment later, sliding across the oor in his socks, two cookies in his hand. With a shaky grip, he holds them up to me. “Oreos.”
My God, he’s freaking adorable.
It’s impossible to ignore the zing that passes from his ngers to mine when we touch. This man is a live wire and my entire body sizzles when he’s around.
He dashes ahead in his socks, now sure to be soaked from the snow, and pries open the passenger door for me. As we back out of the driveway, he watches us from the front porch, that ridiculous, over-the-top grin never waning.
“Man’s in love,” Cara mutters, and the whole way home I can’t help wondering if that might be our future someday.
We’re not in my house for two minutes when the front door swings open, a gangly brunette inging her sleepover bag into the wall when she sweeps her arms out with an extravagant ourish.
“I’m here, baby!” Alannah twirls, stopping with wiggling ngers in the air.
“Jazz hands? Really?”
Her giggle lls my small house, and she bounds over to me, leaping into my arms and tackling me into the wall. It’s short-lived, thank God, because when
she spots Cara, it’s game over.
My brother nally makes it through the door, looking from them to me.
“Alannah and Cara? Good fucking luck to you.” He sighs as his daughter sticks her hand in his face, because she’s his human swear jar.
Alannah tucks her money away. “Mummy and Daddy said they’re gonna take a nap tonight after Jemmy goes to bed since I’m not gonna be home, since, ya know, I stay up way later than him.” Jemmy is her little brother Jeremy. Yes, my brother named his son after himself. I call my nephew Jem, and most of the time, my brother Asshole.
Cara lifts her brow. “A nap, Jer? You sure you’re not trying to make a third?”
“Fuck no.” Another sigh, another dollar for his daughter. “I forgot how hard
babies were. I’m done.”
“You should get snipped.”
He claps a hand over his crotch. “Don’t threaten my boys.”
A teenager appears at my door, two pizza boxes in his arms. “Uh, Cara…” He clears his throat when Cara appears behind me. “There’s a message here… it says he, uh… can’t wait to destroy your kitty when you get home.”
Cara smiles, taking the pizzas. “Romance is alive and well,” she boasts happily, disappearing into the kitchen with Alannah.
Jeremy takes another step inside, frowning when his shoulders shake. “It’s freezing in here, Ol. Furnace broken again?”
“Guess so,” I murmur, moving to the thermostat. Fifty-ve. I press at the buttons, waiting for that sound that lets me know the furnace is whirring to life, but it never comes, so I smash on them some more, giving my brother an awkward grin when nothing happens. This thing is broken 80 percent of the time, he’s xed it for me at least three times, and I’ve had it professionally xed four times. My cheeks burn. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
I rub my arm and look down at my feet. “Because it’s freezing in here and Alannah’s staying over. It was working when I left for work this morning, I promise.”
Jeremy rolls his eyes and tugs on my hoodie. “Load her up in your ratty sweats before you go to bed. She won’t break.”
“I’m tough as nails, Auntie Ollie.” Alannah peeks out from the kitchen, exing her biceps and growling like a bear, a slice of pizza between her teeth.
I follow Jeremy down to the basement, nibbling my thumbnail as he plays around with the furnace. When he sighs, I know the verdict isn’t good.
“Hate to tell you this, Ol, but this thing is toast. You need to replace it.”
Fantastic. Obviously a furnace is on the list of things I can aord right now.
“Kris and I can help you out.”
I shake my head. He’s bailed me out before; a new furnace is where I draw the line. “I have some emergency money saved up,” I lie.
His brows quirk, and I think he believes me. Then he pulls me in for a hug on his way out the door, and whispers, “You’re a terrible fucking liar.”
I nd Cara and Alannah spread out on the living room oor, pizza covering the coee table as they ip through Netix.
“There’s a special pizza for you,” Cara tells me.
I pad into the kitchen and lift the lid on the box, hung a laugh at the single topping. Bacon. Real bacon. An unholy amount; curly, crispy edges, tiny bubbles of grease, and a smoky aroma that overloads my senses in the best way.
My phone vibrates in the pocket of my hoodie, and I press play on the video from Emmett.
It’s of Carter, loading up a plate with pizza while he sings.
“Don’t go bacon my heart! Mmm, mmm! I won’t go bacon your heart! So, oooh, oooh! Don’t go bacon my heart!” He ops onto the couch with a sigh. “You think Ollie likes the extra-extra bacon pizza I ordered her? I bet she found the most bacon-y slice.” He chuckles, dropping half a slice of pizza into his mouth.
“I can’t wait to see her at the party Saturday. Maybe I’ll line my pockets with bacon.”
The video goes black at the same moment realization hits, and my heart races at the knowledge that I’m already well in over my head.
“You look scared again.”
I glance over my shoulder and see Cara leaning against the door frame. “I’m
terried,” I whisper.
“What scares you the most?”
“That I’m going to fall in love with him.”
Cara laughs, one of those irritating, mocking laughs. “Oh, Ollie.” She strolls over, stealing a slice of my extra-extra bacon pizza, taking a bite. “I hate to tell you this, but if you’re scared of falling in love with him… you’re already halfway there.”
Her words take root in my head, and I keep turning them over late into the night. When Alannah and I are on the way out the door the next morning, I haven’t stopped thinking of them, or of Carter.
My phone buzzes, and I tap on Emmett’s text as I head down the steps.
Emmett: Theater 4, row L, seats 10 & 11. Tonight at 7:30.
Emmett: He’s still going.
The frigid January air warms as I reread the details, the seats Carter meticulously picked for our movie date while we curled up by the re on his
balcony—last row, dead center.
He’s still going.
A strange but welcome calm unfurls in my belly, climbing into my chest, allowing my shoulders to unstack. I feel lighter somehow, like a weight has been lifted. The weight of my fear, maybe, or my indecisiveness. Both of those things have the power to drag you down like anchors, and I’d been letting them pull me under since the rst time that man gave me butteries.
Alannah tugs on my hand. “Why are you smiling so big, Auntie Ollie?”
I x the Vipers toque on my niece’s head, covering her ears. “I’m just happy, honey.”
She grins up at me. “Happy looks good on you.”
Feels damn good too.
