Olivia Read Online Free PDF Page A

we’ve just been
talking about.
    “ I just wanted to ask. They’re just
clothes. Clothes don’t define you.”
    “ Why do you wear dresses all the
time now?”
    “ I’m a girl,” I answer him, giving
him an equally simplistic response.
    “ You used to hate them.”
    “ Yes, but Jon likes
them.”
    “ Does Jon wear–”
    “ Trey, just shut up with the
questions and watch the man in the dress on TV, okay? Jon likes me in dresses. And I like it when Jon
likes me.”
    “ Is he coming over
tonight?”
    “ I hope so.”
    “ I hope so, too. I need help with
my puzzle.”
    “ I can help,” I offer.
    “ I want Jon to help,” he says,
considering him the expert on anything that needs to be assembled
in any way. He’d even brushed off Dad a few times, which I could
tell hurt my father’s feelings. It made me feel like Jon was more a
part of the family.
    I like the way it feels.
    It’s obvious my father does not . He comes home a few minutes after the show ends,
rejoining us both on the couch as we start to watch another episode
of the marathon of my designer competition. “You have fans,” he
tells me.
    “ Great,” I say with a frown. “Not
the fans I want.”
    “ You’d have to do some more
painting to get the fans you want.”
    I don’t respond to his assumption. It’s the first
time Dad has said anything about my lack of painting, but it’s not
something I care to talk about. “What did they want?”
    “ A glimpse of you. Your autograph
on one of their blown-up pictures of you on the beach.” He sighs,
annoyed. I hated the pictures that had been printed from our summer
vacation just as much as he did, and neither of us liked to discuss
them. “Why is that man wearing a dress?” Dad asks. I have to laugh
to myself a little. My brother is certainly my father’s
son.

    As
soon
as we hear the front door open a few hours later, Dad and Trey race
one another up the stairs to meet my mom. I stay on the couch,
having become used to the routine by now. Over the summer, my
parents had come to trust me and Jon a little more, allowing us to
spend time with one another in the basement. My bedroom was still
completely off-limits–not that we’d do anything in there anyway.
Had I painted at all over the summer, he probably would have been
allowed in the studio side of my room, but that opportunity never
presented itself since I hadn’t picked up a paintbrush in
months.
    Jon sets his heavy bag on the ground by the coffee
table and kicks off his sneakers, leaning over to kiss me in the
process. It’s familiar and comfortable.
    “ Hi,” he says when we
part.
    “ I’m sorry,” I tell him. He nods
understandingly and sits down.
    “ You could have called
me.”
    “ I was on my way out the door, but
I just... couldn’t.”
    “ I know. Jack said he tried to
convince you to go.”
    “ He said that, huh?” That’s not at
all what happened. It wouldn’t surprise me if Dad took advantage of
my reluctance to go to the Art Room to keep me away from Jon. That
knowledge almost makes me want to go next week, just to spite him,
but I know myself better than that. I don’t think I’ll be able to
go then, either.
    “ He did when he came by to handle
the crowd. You missed the paparazzi.”
    “ I wouldn’t say I missed them.” He laughs a little. “So maybe it’s a
good thing I didn’t come.”
    “ Good for whom?” he asks quickly.
“For the kids? For you? Certainly not for me.” He leans into the
billowy back cushions of the sofa, closing his eyes as he relaxes.
He doesn’t flinch at all when I touch my cold fingers to his
forehead and run them through his hair. I kneel up and kiss his
cheek, feeling his arm wrap around my back.
    “ Did you miss me?” I
ask.
    “ Yeah,” he admits, opening his
tired eyes. “It’s one of the nights we get to spend together... and
beginning next week, when school starts again, we’ll have much less
time together, you know?”
    “ I know, but you get to come