Oliver
There are rose petals on Sofie's doorstep.
I don't know why that bothers me, but it does.
It's no joke that I shouldn't have waited this long to check in on Sofie. I should have called, but that's not really my thing. Neither is texting. Or any manner of checking in at all.
Maybe I'm just spoiled rotten at this point, but normally, the women I fuck are the ones that get back to me. Not the other way around.
It's not like I've been sitting around staring at my phone for week, expecting Sofie to text: Oh, Oliver, I'm just devastated by the absence of your massive cock in my ass! Or, Please, Oliver, you've ruined me for other men!
Nah. I'm not that kind of guy.
But at the same time, had Sofie Carson sent me something like that…well, a man wouldn't complain.
The real problem here is that I've failed to account for the fact that it's not just my ginger ass chasing after this brilliant beauty. Elijah and Lucas are solidly in the running too, and they have no problem chasing down the women they want.
I just fucking hope that it's one of them who's left these rose petals on her welcome mat. I prefer knowing the competition.
I raise my fist to the door and knock on it. Three times. Simple. Casual. Nice and firm.
It’s unbelievable what Sofie Carson's absence can make me do. Normally, I slip down to my lab before my dates wake up in the morning and stay down there until they're gone. No small talk. No mess.
Now, I've been reduced to the kind of man who shows up on a girl's doorstep with a bottle of wine, a hardcover novel and a few remaining shreds of hope.
For a long time, there's no answer. Which is an answer in itself, really. I'm making an ass out of myself for being here. Sofie is either not home, or she's so fucking busy banging whatever dude bought her roses that she doesn't have time to come to the door.
But hey. I'm not an optimist for nothing.
I give it one last go. Knock. Knock. Knock.
That's when I hear it: Sofie Carson's beautiful, angelic voice.
"Greg, you snide little son of a bitch, if you knock on my door one more fucking time I'm going to feed you your own goddamn chode!"
Well. It's not a hello, but it's not exactly a goodbye either.
"Sofie?" I call through the door, furrowing my brow. "It's Oliver. Open up. I brought provisions."
I hear the shuffle of tiny Sofie feet, and then lo and behold, the door opens.
Sofie frames herself in the doorway, looking a little unhinged—but nonetheless happy to see me.
I hold the wine and the book up like a peace flag just in time for Sofie to grab me by the collar and pull me down to her level for a passionate lip lock.
"Oliver," she laughs against my lips. "God, I thought maybe I'd scared you off or something."
"Just promise that you won't…how did you put it?"
"Feed you your own chode? Not likely," she giggles. "Your dick is too big and too long to fit into that level of penis classification system. Come in!"
"Sounds like Greg is dealing with some kind of Phallus minimus situation," I joke, letting Sofie tug me into her apartment by my necktie. Red looks gorgeous beneath her French-manicured fingertips—even if it does look like she's been biting her nails. "Has he been getting on your nerves again lately?"
"Him and a million different other things," Sofie admits. She throws herself down on the couch in the living room, not bothering to move what looks like an entire semester's worth of Biology notes. "I had an exam this week, and then Greg showed up with roses demanding his date again, and it's just like—"
Suddenly, Sofie stops talking, shuts her mouth and begins to blush.
"What's wrong," I say, sitting down on the arm of the couch.
"I'm stress-babbling," she giggles. "Sorry. Everything's just been a lot lately, and I got so excited to see you, and—"
She looks so damn sweet like this. She's wearing these tiny little terry cloth shorts, a Colombia t-shirt, thigh high socks and—if I'm not mistaken—a scrunchie in her hair. This isn't the ultra-fox that I remember from our date. It's something even better.
Sofie Carson in her natural environment. What a thing to behold.
"God, I did it again! Forgive me," she says, burying her face in her hands. "I think I just didn't expect to see you again."
"It's been a week," I laugh. "And you're not exactly a forgettable woman, I'm afraid."
"I'm glad." Sofie licks her lips as she moves her hands away from her face, and my heart skips a fucking beat.
"Do you want the honest truth?" I ask.
"Always."
"I was waiting for you to come to me. I hate chasing down women—makes me feel like a predator," I admit. Then, smooth guy I am, I toss her the book. "But apparently, you're my kind of prey."
Sofie studies the book with an intensity that I recognize well. It's the same look I've seen on my own face in pictures. So focused that the rest of the world washes away. It's incredible to see that look reflected on a face as beautiful as hers. This girl is really something else.
"The Wasp That Brainwashed the Caterpillar," Sofie reads off the cover. "Evolution's Most Unbelievable Solutions to Life's Biggest Problems. Is this for me?"
"It's interesting, I swear," I say, preparing to reassure her that I didn't just gift her the most boring textbook ever. But to my surprise, Sofie flips open the front cover and starts digging in.
"I believe you," she giggles. "Maybe evolution can solve my Greg problem. What do you think?"
"I think no woman in her right mind would breed with that glorified Cro-Magnon anyway," I chuckle. "I'm still not sure how he managed to land you in the first place."
Sofie rolls her eyes like she's cursing her past self and I don't blame her. If you were to rank all the shady dudes of history, Greg would land somewhere between Jack the Ripper and Kevin Spacey.
"I used to be a fucking idiot, is how," Sofie confesses. "I didn't have the most money growing up, you know? When I met Chloe, she whisked me off into this magical world and me, being a dumbass…"
"You're not a dumbass," I reassure her. Because she's not. From what I know of Sofie Carson, dumbass is the furthest thing from the truth there is. "It's easy to get caught up in it all. Sometimes you feel like…"
"Like you don't really belong in their world," Sofie says, smiling softly.
"Something like that, yeah," I agree. "You just have to remember that the money doesn't make anyone any better than you, and it absolutely doesn't give them the right to walk all over you or demand whatever they want."
"God," Sofie moans. "Where were you when I met that asshole?"
"Waiting for a pretty co-ed with a Bio major to put herself up for auction, I guess." I bite my lip, studying her face carefully. "If I would've gotten to you first, that idiot's face would be caved in by now."
"Hey, I'm not stopping you," Sofie says. "Wanna open the wine? I have this documentary series, Planet Earth, on Blu-ray, and Chloe won't watch it with me, but maybe you…"
Sofie reaches for the bottle and I pull it away just in time, catching her wrist in my hand instead.
"Actually," I tell her. Our bodies are close now, and I can feel the warmth radiating off her skin. "I think you've been a little too busy lately."
"Have I?"
"You have. Too much studying. It'll melt your brain. And besides…" I make a big show of sniffing the air. "Smells like Greg in here."
Sofie sniffs the air too. I'm close enough, I can see the way her nostrils twitch. Like a bunny rabbit's nose when it's near fresh grass. Unbearably adorable. It makes me want to kiss her. But if I kiss her, we'll be in this Greg-infested apartment all night.
"You know," Sofie says with a mischievous little smile. "I think you're right. Your place?"
"Thought you'd never ask."
I stand and pull her up with me. Her mouth is so damn close to mine that it's going to drive me insane if I don't kiss her right now. So I do. Just a little kiss. Sweet. Charming. Soft.
But then a little kiss turns into a bigger one, and then our tongues collide, and she smells so fucking good—
"Do I need to, uh…change?" When Sofie's lips move, they brush against mine. Like butterfly kisses. The look in her eyes is one of absolute longing.
It's a look that says ‘we could have a lot of fun right now if I took my clothes off.’
But no. Sofie's been through a roller coaster of emotions this week, and there's something special about her that makes me want to treat her right outside of bed before I get her back into one.
"You look cute as is," I reassure her. "You just need to come with me."