Summertime & Butterflies

“Come on,” Harry urged, his cheeky grin successfully distracting Olivia. “Chop, chop, Lollipop,” he teased, tapping his fingers impatiently against the coffee table. She rolled her eyes at him, snickering as his fingers tapped along the corner of the table before finding her hand and tickling her wrist. He snaked his fingers around hers, pulling her to him and smirking against her lips.

After rounds one and two with Harry, Olivia was on cloud nine. After the tension heavy “what are we” discussion, she felt as though the mood of the evening had been set. She had mentally kicked herself – it was their last evening together for who knew how long, and she’d set the pace for it being an incredibly awkward night. That wasn’t what she wanted. One of her favourite things about Harry was how goofy and fun-loving he could be. Lying in bed, swallowing emotional lumps as they wondered what tomorrow would bring wasn’t how either one of them wanted to spend the evening.

So when Harry – clearly feeling the same awkwardness Olivia felt –had off-handedly suggested a game Scrabble, Olivia quickly agreed – certain he was kidding, but hoped he wasn’t. He might have been, considering the surprised look he’d given her when she agreed. But Scrabble was one of her favourite games and while she thoroughly expected to dazzle Harry with her wits, she’d hoped the game would assist in moving past the self-deprecating, emotional part of the evening.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Harry continued, running his hand up her thigh, still working on distracting her. “I’m sure you can think of a word better than Dog. Maybe Tan?” he suggested, sassily teasing Olivia’s previous words.

Olivia scowled at Harry, examining her Scrabble tiles carefully. She started the game with a bang and used all of her tiles on the first word, but since then, she’d been lucky to get Apple on a double word square. Harry was easily pulling ahead, and Olivia couldn’t have that. No matter how adorable he was, she couldn’t let him win. Not when it came to Scrabble.

“Okay, shush,” she told him sternly, rearranging her tiles while he laughed at her seriousness. She had three I’s, an O, an X, a Q and a J – almost the worst hand imaginable. She knew she could put her Q down off of the I in Drift that Harry had put down, but it was a useless square and only got her eleven points. That wouldn’t help her beat the pants off him.

Though she would vehemently deny it, Olivia was a bit of a cheat when it came to board games. She was notorious for sitting on money during Monopoly, and whenever a tally score was required, she found herself adding a few extra tally marks here and there. She was the youngest child, competitive and a perfectionist to a fault. Scrabble was an easy one to cheat on – if someone challenged your word and were wrong, they lost a turn. Most didn’t want to risk it. She decided to use this to her advantage.

Carefully, she placed her J, O and X around the aforementioned I, resulting in the phony word Joix. “Okay, eight and eight, and two, plus double word… thirty-six,” she announced with a grin, scribbling the number on the score sheet and hoping she didn’t look like she was trying to cheat.

Harry furrowed his brow, looking at Olivia doubtfully. “That’s not even a word,” he told her, though she thought he sounded a bit uncertain.

“It’s the name of a plant in New Zealand,” she advised him, forcing herself to maintain eye contact. While normally a terrible liar, she felt as though Harry didn’t know her well enough to pick up on her fib. Still, the thought that he may pick up on her lie intimidated her, and she looked down at the board, carefully straightening the tiles.

Harry laughed loudly as she broke eye contact. “You’re full of shit!” he told her good-naturedly, rubbing her shoulder playfully.

“Challenge me, then,” Olivia told him, doing her best to sound confident. “You lose a turn, but…” She offered Harry a sassy shrug, silently willing him to move on and accept her word. She was a teacher. He should know better than to question her.

Harry was quiet, mulling over the stakes. Finally, he reached over and picked up the tattered Scrabble dictionary. Olivia wrinkled her brow, watching him, and hoping the word was miraculously real. He leafed through the book silently, running his finger down the page. Olivia could see his lips moving as he searched, the action incredibly cute to her. Finally, closed the book and tossed it aside, looking up at Olivia as he ran his thumb and forefinger along the sides of his mouth.

“Are you warm?” he inquired, his face stone.

Olivia gave Harry a weird look. “No, I’m totally fine..?” she assured him curiously, wondering why he was concerned about her temperature when Scrabble points were at stake.

Harry shrugged, clearing his throat. “I just thought that with your pants on fire, you might be getting a touch warm,” he answered, his face breaking into a triumphant grin.

Olivia groaned and exhaled loudly. “Ugh, come on!” she protested with a pout. “It’s in the Canadian book!” she added, still trying to convince him.

“You said it was a word from New Zealand,” Harry reminded her, carefully picking up Olivia’s three tiles and handing them back to her. “It’d be in this book,” he told her proudly, grandiosely gesturing to the cover of his dictionary, where it clearly stated ‘UK Edition’. “Queen’s English. Canada and New Zealand get that,” he added haughtily.

“I meant the US version,” Olivia corrected deceitfully, still attempting to maintain her points.

“Sure, sure,” Harry commented, delicately placing Zilch across the I Olivia had attempted to use, and managing to score thirty-eight unnecessary points. “Can you help me count this?” Harry asked, smiling charmingly at Olivia. “It’s rather high, and I don’t think I can do it by myself.” His cheeky grin normally would have melted Olivia from the inside out, but right now, she wanted to smack the handsome boy sitting beside her.

“Fuck off,” Olivia sighed, crossing her arms across her chest. “I don’t want to play anymore.”

Harry laughed jubilantly at Olivia’s immature pout. “Oh, oh!” he cooed, pretending to have a heart. “My poor sweetheart, being a sore little loser. Awww…” he continued dramatically, leaning over to kiss Olivia’s cheek. She quickly backed away from him, scowling before he could make contact with her.

“Get away from me,” she laughed, placing her hand on his cheek and pushing him away from her. Harry chuckled boastfully, crawling closer to Olivia and managing to plant a sloppy kiss against her cheek.

“It’s not about winning or losing, honey,” he reminded her, only sounding conceited because he was winning.

“Mm-hmm,” Olivia commented with another roll of her eyes, letting her lips find Harry’s and reciprocating his kiss. “I’m just letting you win, though, so…” she murmured against his lips.

“That’s why you haven’t crossed out your cheating points yet, right?” Harry asked smugly, grasping Olivia by the back of her neck and forcing his lips on her again. Olivia scoffed against Harry’s lips, pushing her hands against his chest.

“You’re so annoying!” Olivia pouted as she broke away from Harry, frowning at him as she exaggeratedly scribbled out her precious points, her frown deepening as he cackled proudly at her. She tried to seem annoyed, but truthfully, she was jubilant that they could have an awkward moment, share uncomfortable feelings and move past it. It reminded her of her mother’s favourite quote – mean what you say and say what you mean. If Harry hadn’t pressed Olivia to spill her feelings to him, she would still have the lingering doubts nagging at her for the rest of the evening, and her time with Harry would be spoiled. Was she still hesitant and fearful of the unknown? Without a doubt. But Harry asked her to trust him, so try as she might, she was going to.

“So that means it’s my turn again!” Harry announced, clapping his hands together gleefully. Olivia laughed at his actions; he resembled an excited child and was so adorable, it damn near killed her.

“Look at you, knowing the rules like such a big boy,” Olivia commented, her words teasingly chastising. She patted his hand affectionately, pretending to be proud of his accomplishment.

Harry snickered, taking her hand and pulled it towards his upper thigh. “If I was a dog, I’d make a comment about being a big boy,” he teased. “Good thing I’m a gentleman,” he said suggestively, letting go of Olivia’s hand and letting it drop against his manhood.

“Good thing,” Olivia agreed, laughing as she pressed her palm against him, gently gripping as she pulled herself closer to him. “You’re such a gentleman…” she mused, letting her lips dance across Harry’s. She clambered closer to him, pushing his back firmly against the front of the sofa. She let her lips linger gently against his, letting him get a taste of her before she nudged his lips apart with her tongue. He let out a satisfied moan, his tongue willingly waltzing with hers.

Harry spread his knees apart, allowing Olivia to settle between them. His hands tickled along her lower back, inching her body closer to his. He bit his lip gently, his eyes crinkling as he grinned against Olivia’s mouth.

“You’re just trying to distract me ‘cause you’re losing, aren’t you?” he asked teasingly. “My girl… you’re as transparent as glass.”

“Me?!” asked Olivia incredulously, enjoying the fluttering feeling as Harry pronounced her his girl. “You’re the one who just… forced yourself on me!” she teased him, though not releasing her grasp on him.

“I know you hate it,” Harry told her, attempting to sound sympathetic.

“Totally do,” she agreed, scooting away from him and flashing Harry a cheeky grin. “Best get to playing your next stupid word,” she advised, crossing her arms across her chest teasingly, advising that she was off-limits.

Harry pouted at her, shifting closer. “Maybe I don’t want to play anymore…” he mused, dragging his finger softly across Olivia’s collarbone and down her chest. “I mean… there’s no point, really…” he added, tracing crescents across Olivia’s cleavage. “I’m easily winning, so… you might as well forfeit…” He grinned at her before planting a kiss against Olivia’s dropped jaw.

“Put your freakin’ word down, you goof!” Olivia demanded with a laugh, not believing for one minute that he would let her forfeit the game. It was easy to tell that they were both ridiculously competitive, and while they may have won by default in their childhoods – “Gemma, he’s just little,”… “Stephanie, you can win next time,” – in their adult lives, they wanted to have the glory of winning organically – except Olivia, who would still boastfully accept a win accomplished by cheating.

“Fine!” Harry huffed out, leaning back against the couch and examining his tiles. He rearranged a couple before looking back up at Olivia. “Okay, how about this?” he asked. “The winner… gets to do whatever they want… to the loser… Deal?” he wondered, shooting an exaggerated wink in Olivia’s direction.

“You can’t set the stakes halfway through the game!” she scoffed, before thinking through what he’d offered. “Oh, wait…” She trailed off, replaying his suggestion in her mind, watching his dimpled grin spread across his face. Judging by the scorecard, the stakes were clearly in both of their corners.

“Okay, deal,” Olivia agreed, mimicking Harry’s grin. She stuck her hand out to him. “May the odds be ever in your favour,” she quipped, shaking his hand.

“They already are,” Harry quipped back, placing Kernel across the board, his K conveniently on a double letter score. “Fifteen, sweetheart,” he advised Olivia, tapping the scorecard and intently watching her, ensuring she write the right number down.

Olivia sighed dramatically, adding his score to the sheet, in painfully small penmanship. “You know… on second thought… I don’t think I’m gonna let you do anything to me,” she decided cheekily, knowing full well she would.

Harry snickered, stretching his legs out and enveloping Olivia with his calves. “Sorry, but you have to,” he told her innocently, not sounding sorry at all. “Unless you win, but…” He trailed off as he shrugged, gesturing to the board.

“I still might!” she argued, the fact that she may lose weighing heavily on her. She exhaled loudly as she rearranged her tiles, no decent words coming to her. She painstakingly continued to rearrange them, taking so much time to do so that Harry got up to use the bathroom, refill their drinks and bring out another bowl of the funky tasting veggie chips that Olivia was only eating because they were in front of her.

“Oh, come on,” he groaned loudly as he settled back against the couch, realising she still hadn’t played a word. “Don’t you just want to forfeit, sweetheart?” he wondered, combing his fingers through her hair. “I’ve got good plans for you, loser,” he added teasingly.

Olivia laughed distractedly, still trying to make a miracle happen. Finally, she sighed dejectedly and shrugged at Harry. “I think I have to trade them in,” she confessed sheepishly, pulling her tiles off the rack and laying them in front of her.

Harry echoed Olivia’s sigh, shaking his head disappointedly at her. “If that’s the best you can do…” he told her, holding the bag of tiles in her direction. “But,” he added, pulling the bag back towards him, “you have to put those in first,” he told her, gesturing at her discarded tiles.

Olivia gawked at Harry, shaking her head. “Uhm, no I don’t,” she corrected him. “I lay them face down… so you can’t see them… and I pick new ones… and then put them in!”

“Says who?”

Snickering in disbelief, Olivia gestured manically at the Scrabble board. “Uhm… like, all of the rules!” she exclaimed to him.

“No!” Harry countered, shaking his head defiantly at Olivia. “It’s the risk you take, putting them back in the bag!”

“The risk is no points, not the tiles I pull!” Olivia argued, scowling at Harry. She could handle someone calling her out on something when she was knowingly cheating – albeit with a bit of sass – but she knew she was right, and he was wrong, and she would fight it to the death.

“Stop trying to cheat,” Harry teased Olivia, bumping her leg playfully with his own. “It’s, uh… what’d you say earlier? A fruitless labour?”

“Shut up,” Olivia sighed, embarrassed at the comment though secretly pleased he remembered her rhetoric from earlier. “I’m not cheating! It’s the rules!”

“I’m sure it is,” he told her soothingly, grinning as he taunted her. “Honey, just call it. I want to give you your prize,” he added, smirking seductively as he grabbed Olivia’s hand and squeezing it.

As much as she wanted her loser consolation prize from Harry, she shook her head at him, pulling her hand away and grabbing her phone. “Nope!” she determined, her fingers flying across the screen. “You’re wrong! Just wait…” she mused, thumbing through the Google results.

Harry laughed, bemused by her attempts. “Are we having our first domestic over Scrabble?” he wondered, letting his hand softly graze Olivia’s back – in his mind, she’d already lost the game.

“Well, we wouldn’t be if you just knew the rules,” Olivia countered, pausing as she read one of the results. “A-ha!” she proclaimed triumphantly after a few moments, holding her phone out for Harry to see. “Hmm… can you help me read that, darling?” she gibed teasingly. “I can’t quite make out what it says… and you’re so smart, I’m sure you’ll get it,” she added, tickled that she found proof that she was right and Harry was wrong. It was almost as good as winning the game.

Harry read the text on the phone, scowling as he realised he was wrong. He sighed, gently pushing Olivia’s arm away from him. “Pick your stupid tiles, then,” he told her grudgingly, clearly not enjoying being proven wrong.

“With pleasure!” Olivia answered with a giddy grin. She carefully selected seven more tiles, and while they weren’t great, they were better than her last tiles. She managed to get a couple more double-digit point words, but when Harry used her discarded Q to play Niqab on a triple word tile, she was regretting discarding the tile.

“Well, shit…” Olivia commented after a solid effort, sighing as Harry used up the last of his tiles, leaving her with eight points on her rack. Not that it mattered – he was at least thirty points ahead of her. She sighed again, dramatically blowing her lips into a raspberry.

“Fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms against her chest. “You win. Gloat away,” she told him, gesturing to the Scrabble board.

Harry grinned at her, picking up the score sheet. “I think I should get this framed,” he determined, chucking at Olivia’s pout. “Maybe blown up… It’d look good above the fire place, wouldn’t it?” He asked, enjoying taunting her.

“It’d look better in the fire place,” Olivia corrected, her pout still across her face. She abhorred losing.

Harry chuckled, balancing his weight on his knees as he leaned over Olivia. “Come here, loser,” he cooed, tugging on her dress strap. “Let me give you your silver metal…”

Notes