16 NOAHOlivia is always so put together, well dressed in tailored skirts and blouses, manicured from head to toe. It only makes me want to muss her all up and get her dirty. I act like I don’t notice her in her business apparel, but of course it affects me. I’m only a man.
What are we doing? Any normal Friday night, I’d be out with Sterling, having fun. Instead I’m sitting at home in sweatpants with my tablet, doing things I never get to do—like looking up genealogy about my family ancestry and reading random articles on CNN. It’s pleasantly relaxing.
But having Olivia here, in my personal space, in our shared space all the time is getting distractingly difficult. Like right now, she’s perched in a dining chair, legs folded underneath her, a pair of square black-framed glasses balanced o
