Mr. Right Now

Frankie

Oscar now tops my list of people I’ve had the most sleepovers with. My best friend from third grade is a close second with four. My parents were never crazy about me staying at other people’s houses when I was young, and they were too strict for anyone else to want to stay the night at mine.

Something tells me as much as they may have reservations about sleepovers with Oscar, if they knew the circumstances, they’d be okay with it.

I’m more than okay with it, which is the scary thing. It’s not just having him as a bodyguard, either. His presence makes me feel safe, yes, but beyond that, he makes me… happy. Like I can let my guard down a little and enjoy pointless conversation. Blake was right when he told me Oscar can make you laugh harder than anyone, and he will push you beyond what you think you can do.

If my time in Toronto is coming to an end, there’s one thing I never thought I could do that I suddenly have the courage to try. “Do you want to come over for dinner? Like… a date?” I blurt the words as Oscar downs a glass of water, standing in my kitchen in yesterday’s clothes.

He stares at me over the glass, not giving me an answer. My stomach sinks, understanding that no reply is an answer. Somehow, I’ve totally misread the situation, and now I’ve made a fool of myself.

“It’s fine. Never mi—”

“Yeah,” he finally spits out. “Name the day.” His lips turn up in a rare full smile, making my heart flutter.

“Oh. Um… What’s your schedule like this week? I’m finished every day by 4:30.”

“Today is the only night until Saturday I don’t work at the gym. I’m usually done by nine.”

I know the end of the semester is winding down. Last summer, he had big plans, working with his brother and travelling the world. There’s no telling, even if I stay here until the end of exams, that he’s going to stick around after the semester is over. This could be my only chance. And if we crash and burn, at least that will make leaving a little easier.

“How about tonight, then?”

His gorgeous smile never falters as he replies, “It’s a date.”

My stomach is flipping like an elite gymnast, and I’m suddenly lost for words.

Surprisingly, Oscar steps closer and sets his glass on the counter behind me. “My class starts at 8:30, so I have to go. I’ll see you tonight.” Then he leans in and brushes his lips against my cheek, leaving heat in his wake.

Or maybe that’s just because my head is still reeling over him holding me until I fell asleep, rubbing my bare arm with his thumb. Whatever the reason, my face flushes and again, words evade me.

He sends me a wink, pats Brad on the head, then grabs his jacket and stops at the door. “Don’t forget to lock up.”

The amount of care and concern in this man has completely thrown me for a loop. Considering my first impression of him—and second, third, fourth, fifth—he’s nothing like I assumed.

With a level of excitement that completely obliterates the fear the last few days have been plagued with, I reply, “See you tonight.”

Unsurprisingly, I’ve been distracted the entire day. My lab partner, Lynne, was obviously annoyed with my incessant daydreaming. I almost confessed to her that I have a date tonight, but I don’t think she’d care. She’s top of the class and doesn’t seem like the type to socialize. At first, I liked that about her because I was anti-social myself. Now, I just really want to talk to someone.

I walk out of my last lab at 4:20 as my phone buzzes. I pull it out of my bag to find a text from Hollis.

Hollis: How was your cupcake?

Just thinking about that surprise treat brings a smile to my face—which has nothing to do with the dessert itself.

Frankie: Amazing. Thank you.

Hollis: That was all Oscar. He even bought me one as a bribe to go get it. It wasn’t a hardship.

I laugh as I approach my car, realizing too late that I was so distracted by my phone, I didn’t look around the area.

“Hey,” a deep voice says behind me.

I jump and drop my phone in the muddy, patchy grass that has felt the effects of a long winter.

“Sorry,” Oscar says, stepping closer and bending down to grab my phone. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

My heart rate slows as I blow out a breath and take in the handsome, casual confidence of my next-door neighbour. “You did.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats gently, wiping my phone on his pant leg.

“It’s fine. Just… Yeah. Years of being on edge.”

He gifts me with another smile I’ve decided I’ll never get sick of seeing. “My classes ended an hour ago. I was about to leave, but I walked past your car and thought I’d stand watch for a bit. See if he showed.”

“And?” I ask, turning my head from side to side, finally scanning the area.

“If he did, there’d be an unconscious body in your trunk.”

I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. I think he’s kidding, but I can’t be sure. Yet, after the years of torment, I can’t bring myself to hate that possibility. Any sympathy I may have had for this psychopath disappeared when he chased me out of my old life.

“Want a ride?” I nod toward my car, eager to leave.

“Sure.” He passes me my phone before walking around to the passenger side. “We can stop and grab dinner on the way.” He climbs inside without waiting for me to reply.

I follow his lead, sinking into the driver’s seat. Once I lock the doors and turn the car on, I answer, “I was going to cook. Still afraid I’ll poison you?” I pull out of the parking spot, smirking instead of wearing my usual stress-induced scowl I leave with most days.

“No. You proved me wrong when you stayed at my place. I’d just rather enjoy the time we have.”

There’s something ominous about that sentence. On one hand, it’s sweet and reassures me that I haven’t misread what’s happening between us. On the other, it sounds like he’s resigned himself to me leaving. That our time is finite, and he knows it.

So rather than insist on making the shrimp risotto I had planned, I concede, because this could be our first and last date.

“This food is awful. I’m sorry for suggesting it,” Oscar declares, dropping his fork. “My cousin Caleb warned me it was bad, but I thought he was being judgmental because it wasn’t French cuisine.”

I chuckle, sprinkling more salt on my chipotle burrito bowl. It has less flavour than a cucumber. “It’s not awful… but it’s not good.” I drop a piece of chicken on the floor for Brad, and he proceeds to turn his nose up at it. “Okay, it’s awful.”

“I’m not telling Caleb he was right; he’ll gloat.” He stands and grabs his dish, then puts his hand out to take mine. “Don’t torture yourself.”

It really is the worst takeout food I’ve ever eaten. How that place stays open is beyond me.

“Thanks,” I reply, pushing my bowl forward. “I’d offer you dessert, but I only have…” My words trail off as I remember my purchases from yesterday. “Strawberries and whipped cream,” I continue. “You can have the berries. I’ll eat the whipped cream.”

Oscar stands in front of me, holding one dish in each hand, looking like his mind is racing. “Deal.”

He scrapes our uneaten meals into the food waste bin while I pull the whipped cream from the freezer and the berries from the fridge. Honestly, I don’t know how typical dates usually go. Society portrays them as grand, exciting events where two people who barely know each other try to put on their best front in hopes of a second date. Well, maybe they don’t hope for a second, but the entire process seems exhausting.

This, though? Having Oscar in my space, feeling comfortable with him, and knowing at least some of the less-than-ideal parts of each other, is exactly what I wanted. It may also be the exact opposite of what I need, depending on how things go over the next few weeks.

No. I’m not thinking about that right now.

“What’s on your mind?” Oscar asks, sneaking up behind me as I chop the tops off of the washed berries.

It’s not that I want to lie to him, but I don’t want to bring up the one topic of conversation that has driven so many of our interactions thus far. “You poor thing.”

“Me?” He stills behind me, pausing his hand that was reaching for a strawberry.

I spin around to face him, bringing us as close as possible without touching. “You’ll never taste the amazingness of strawberries and whipped cream.” I pop one in my mouth, savouring the combination of tart and sweet.

He brings his hand up, using his thumb to trace my bottom lip. “What if I want to taste it?”

Now I’m the one who freezes, minus the sharp inhale I take, which I’m sure he’s noticed. He drops his hand; his gaze bounces back and forth between my eyes and my lips, seeking permission I give without hesitation.

He leans forward, drawing out each painful second. His warm breath creates a pleasure ripple from my lips to my toes. “Frankie,” he utters, resting his forehead against mine.

I bite my lip, anticipating the contact I truly want, which is abruptly halted by a loud noise outside. A combination of fear and disappointment causes my heart to plummet.

Oscar doesn’t hesitate before he rushes to the door, opens all the locks, and flies out onto the porch. He’s not even wearing shoes, but that doesn’t stop him from running down onto the path, looking in every direction. Brad races out after him, making a quick turn to the right, straight for my garbage bins.

By the time I step out onto the porch, clutching my small strawberry knife, Brad is barking at the recycling bin, jumping up against it.

“You should go inside,” Oscar whispers.

I tilt an eyebrow at him. There’s not much I’d put past this psycho who has dedicated years to tormenting me, but hiding in my almost-full recycling bin is pushing it. I shake my head, then hold up my knife and gesture for him to open it.

He steps forward with his phone flashlight, grabs the handle, and flips open the lid. “A raccoon?”

I peek over the railing, and sure enough, there’s a pair of terrified glowing eyes staring back at me. “Venir,” I instruct Brad.

He walks his wagging butt up the stairs and stops behind me, looking exceptionally proud of himself.

Oscar leaves the lid flipped open and rejoins Brad and me on the porch. “Do you think he wore work boots last time?” he asks, wrapping his arms around me.

I lean my head against his chest. “Wishful thinking.”

Sadly, I know this night is coming to an end, and the super-charged, intense moment we had inside is now gone. This friendly embrace feels like he’s getting ready to leave. Strawberries and whipped cream have been long forgotten.

And despite the endless possibilities I’m faced with thanks to my stalker, I realize not a single one makes me okay with saying goodbye to Oscar.