If It Makes You Happy

by Julie Olivia

He readjusts in his seat with a huff of breath. I don’t bother to pet him. He wouldn’t like it anyway. Hating touch is the one thing we have in common.

I’m the woman who gets things done—not the fun daughter.

He’s so different from me. If I’m autumn, he’s spring. He’s all smiles and glowing warmth.

“Why else would I blindfold you, Michelle?” I can think of a few reasons echoes in my head, and my cheeks instantly heat. His low, husky laugh acknowledges my silence. “Naughty. But we’re not those types of friends.”

“Ah, screw it.” Cliff sinks his hand into my hair, cups my head, and collides his lips with mine.

The last thing I want is to lose her for the two months I have her. I have to forget the kiss if it means I get to keep her. And I need to keep her while I can.

“I’m not much of a drinker,” I answer. Fact is, I don’t like being out of control of my own body.

Same girl same

“Well, yeah, she already knows you and likes you for who you are.”

“Because you mean more to me than just a simple, confusing kiss.”

I’ve touched Michelle in quiet ways for weeks, little bumps or strokes along her knee and forearm, but the freedom to touch wherever I like is like carrying heaven in my palms.

And it hits me. I love this woman. I don’t know when it happened. It slipped over me so softly, like the changing of seasons. The seeping scent of baked bread first thing in the morning. A wistful sigh on a perfect fall day.

“Coming!” I call. “Not yet,” Cliff says, murmuring the innuendo under his breath.