Under Pressure

Lya

The silence was strained in Oliver’s Land Cruiser. I sat with my arms folded across my chest, refusing to look at him.

'There’s no harm in enjoying the view,' Tala insisted.

I rolled my eyes. Oliver was, unfortunately, exactly my type. The dark and broody mountain man looked like he was chiseled from stone. I wondered if Michelangelo was jealous. I settled for studying the tattoos down his right arm.

Oliver kept glancing over at me. He looked like he was trying to come up with something to say while I was trying to put off vibes that discouraged interaction.

'He’s not the one you’re angry with,' Tala reminded me. She may be right, but I wanted to be angry with him, too.

“Have you been feeling better?” Oliver finally asked as we pulled into the parking lot.

I nodded, still not wanting to talk.

“That’s good,” he nodded. I hopped out of the SUV, and Oliver fell in stride beside me. “You haven’t really come out of your room - have you been bored?”

“I found a book to read.