3. Oliver
CHAPTER 3
OLIVER
T he bass thumps against my chest like a second heartbeat as I lean against the wall, plastic cup in hand. It’s supposed to be one of those end-of-year bashes where everyone forgets their looming finals and just lets go for a night. Everyone except me, apparently. I scan the crowd, watching people laugh and dance and spill drinks on each other. A girl with a pixie cut and a neon smile sidles up beside me, her eyes bright and inviting.
“Hey, you’re Oliver, right?” she asks, voice barely audible over the playlist that’s been curated to obliterate conversation. “Anthropology major?”
I nod, but my response is automatic, robotic. “Yeah, that’s me. And you are?”
“Marie,” she beams, leaning closer. “I’ve seen you around. You always look so… focused.”
“Focused” isn’t the word I’d use right now. Distracted, maybe. Because even as Marie chatters on about something — I think she mentioned a summer dig in Peru — all I can do is keep an eye on the door, waiting for Nora to arrive. If she even shows up.
Was it stupid of me to come here? What if she’s made other plans and ditched the party? What if she’s out with another guy?
That last one makes my stomach twist, and for a moment, I think I might actually throw up.
“Oliver?” Marie prompts, and I realize just how checked out of the conversation I’ve been. I have no clue what she’s said for the last few minutes.
“Sorry,” I mumble, feeling like a jerk. “Just a little out of it tonight.”
“Tell me about it.” She laughs, brushing her hair behind her ear. “End of year is so stressful, right?”
But then she follows my gaze to the door, and understanding flickers across her face. “Waiting for someone?”
“Sort of,” I admit, because what’s the point of lying?
“Ah, the elusive Nora,” she says sagely, and I’m surprised she knows. But then again, maybe it’s obvious to anyone who looks at me for longer than a minute.
“Is it that transparent?” I ask, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly.
“Only to someone who pays attention,” she replies with a wink. But before I can respond, the crowd parts like the Red Sea, and there she is.
Nora.
My breath catches, and it’s like I’m seeing her for the first time. She walks in with her cousin Lynn, her usual jeans-and-shirt attire swapped for a dress that hugs every curve. Her hair cascades in waves I’ve never seen it in, and her makeup, usually minimal, now accentuates her lips and eyes, making them pop in a way that sends my heart racing.
“Wow,” escapes from my lips before I can stop it.
Marie chuckles beside me. “I’ll say. Girl cleans up nice.”
“Understatement,” I mutter, pushing away from the wall.
Nora catches my eye and smiles, but it’s not her usual, comfortable grin. It’s laced with nerves, excitement, and vulnerability. I feel my palms start to sweat because suddenly, I don’t know how to talk to my own friend. The distance between us feels like miles instead of feet.
“Go talk to her.” Marie nudges me, pulling me out of my stupor. “Before someone else sweeps her off her feet.”
“Right,” I say, though my feet feel glued to the floor.
Taking a deep breath, I finally manage to move, crossing the room toward Nora and Lynn.
“Hi.” My voice cracks slightly like I’m going through a second puberty. God, could I be more awkward?
“Oliver!” Nora exclaims, and I almost wince at how she lights up for me — no, not for me, for the party, I remind myself. “You made it!”
“Yeah.” I shove my hands in my pocket. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
A new song starts, and Lynn jumps up and down. “Oh my God, I love this song! Let’s dance!”
She wiggles onto the dance floor before we can answer, and Nora raises her eyebrows at me. “Wanna dance?”
“Oh, I don’t… I don’t dance.” I shove my hands deeper into my pockets.
Her face falls — a lance to my heart. I inwardly cringe. Why did I say that? Yeah, I don’t dance, but I can at least fake it for her.
What is wrong with me? Why am I putting obstacles between us when that’s the last thing I want?
“Okay.” She nods. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
She drifts into the middle of the room to join her cousin, our promise to stick together during this party abandoned.
The bass thumps through the floorboards, irritating me more than anything else. I watch Nora as she moves in time with the music, her hair shimmering under the pulsating lights. Lynn’s at her side, matching her rhythm beat for beat. They’re a picture of carefree college life — something I usually feel so detached from.
I should leave. What was I thinking, anyway? I don’t belong at a party like this. I should be getting sleep so that I’m rested for class tomorrow.
But then Nora comes back to me, her hand extended, and it’s like everything else I ever knew falls away. There’s only her.
“Come on,” she beckons, her voice just audible over the music. She’s got a playful glint in her eye that dares me to shed the wallflower act. I hesitate, but then she laughs, a sound that tugs at something deep inside me, urging me forward.
“All right,” I concede, taking a step toward the makeshift dance floor.
On the way there, I grab a liquor bottle off a table and fill a plastic cup. I’m not one for drinking, but right now, I need all the help I can get.
The space between us dissolves as I let the rhythm find my limbs. It’s clumsy at first — me trying to mirror the fluidity of her movements — but after a couple of songs and a few swigs from the red plastic cup in my hand, it doesn’t matter anymore. We’re laughing, spinning, and for a moment, the rest of the party fades away.
“Here, try this,” Nora says during a lull in the music, offering me another drink — a concoction of who-knows-what from a punch bowl.
I take it, our fingers brushing, sending a jolt up my arm. We clink cups and down the contents, the liquid courage warming my insides and loosening my inhibitions.
“Feeling good?” Her eyes sparkle with mischief.
“Better now,” I admit.
And it’s true — around Nora, the anxiety that usually has me wound up tight vanishes. I’m free, floating above all my fears and worries. With the alcohol giving me an additional boost of courage, I feel next to invincible.
We join a group of students gathered around a table playing some raucous drinking game. Someone explains the rules, but I’m more focused on the way Nora’s hand keeps finding mine, how her shoulder brushes against me every time she laughs. It feels natural, like this is where my hand is meant to be — interlocked with hers.
“Your turn, Ollie!” someone calls out, snapping me back to the present.
I take my shot, successfully bouncing the ping pong ball into one of the cups, earning cheers from around the table. Nora beams at me, pride evident in her eyes. It’s a silly thing to feel accomplished about, but her smile makes it seem like I’ve just won a Nobel Prize.
“Look at you, superstar,” she teases, nudging me with her elbow.
“Must be beginner’s luck,” I reply, but I’m riding the high of her praise and the buzzing atmosphere.
The game continues, but Nora and I drift to the edge of the action, our conversation ebbing and flowing naturally.
“Hey,” she says suddenly, stepping closer. Her breath smells sweet, like the punch we’ve been downing, and her proximity sends my heart into a sprint. “You’re… really amazing, you know that?”
I’m about to respond, to brush off the compliment with some self-deprecating quip, but then I see the earnestness in her gaze. My words catch in my throat.
“What do you mean?” I squeak out.
She tilts her head. “Ollie, you’re not like the other guys. You’re smarter, more focused. You’re gonna make something of yourself.”
My chest swells, both from the compliment and her close proximity. She smells so good, and while I’ve wondered a thousand times what it would be like to touch her waist or her neck, not once have I ever believed it could really happen. But here she is, looking at me with big doe eyes.
Heat surges through my body, and I have to work to calm my breathing. “You’re the one who’s really something,” I say. “Nora…”
She leans in, her face inches from mine, her eyes searching. My pulse hammers as I realize what’s happening; we’re teetering on the edge of something new, something thrilling. I want to close that gap, taste the punch on her lips and confirm what’s been simmering between us for so long.
But as her lips part slightly, as I start leaning in too, a voice inside me screams caution. This is Nora, my friend, my confidant. Can I risk it all on a maybe?
And — even worse — can I afford to be distracted? I’ve seen it happen to friends in high school and classmates in college. They fall head over heels for a girl and forget everything else. Their grades drop, they stop volunteering, and their shiny futures start to dim.
Do I really want to be like those guys, or do I want to break the cycle of poverty in my family? Make something unprecedented of myself?
“Sorry,” I blurt, pulling back just enough to break the spell. “I think I need some air.”
Her expression falters, confusion and hurt flashing across her features before she masks it with a small, understanding smile.
“Sure,” she whispers. “I’ll be here.”
I nod, turning away to navigate through the crowd, the cool night breeze calling my name. In the safety of distance, I battle the twisting guilt and longing. What am I doing?
The music from the speakers throbs in my chest, a mocking reminder of the heartbeat I was so acutely aware of mere moments ago. This isn’t me. I don’t get lost in moments, not when there are plans to be made and goals to achieve.
“Ollie, wait!” Her voice cuts through the cacophony, grounding me despite my resolve to leave.
I turn, and there she is, threading her way after me, her eyes a mix of concern and something else — regret?
“Nora,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel, “I can’t do this right now.”
“Can’t do what?” Her forehead creases, and she’s looking at me with that piercing gaze that sees too much.
“Us,” I say, the word feeling foreign on my tongue. “There is no us. With finals coming up, I… I need to focus.”
“Oliver…” She exhales, a strand of hair falling across her face. She brushes it aside, a gesture so familiar it aches. “I know. It’s probably for the best, anyway.” There’s a forced lightness in her tone, but I hear the undercurrent of disappointment. “We’re graduating soon. We’ll be parting ways.”
Her words hit like a punch to the gut. Parting ways. As if our late-night study sessions and shared jokes could be swept away by a change in geography. As if what I feel for her could just dissipate into thin air. But the reality is harsher than the fantasy, and I know that whatever this is — or could be — it’s not worth the risk of derailing everything I’ve worked for.
“Right,” I manage, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “Parting ways.”
She gives me a small, sad smile, and in her eyes, I see the reflection of my own resignation. “Yeah. So… take care, Ollie.”
Wait. What? That’s it? Because we didn’t kiss tonight, she doesn’t want to see me anymore?
Just like that, gone are our study sessions and long walks around campus dreaming about the future. One moment has changed everything, and now she wants nothing to do with me.
My whole body stiffens. I refuse to let her see just how much she’s hurting me. I’m better than this, destined for something greater than a girl at school hurting my feelings.
“Take care, Nora.” The words are automatic, but they feel like a lie. Because caring for Nora has become as natural as breathing, and I don’t know how to stop.
Turning away from her, I push through the door and out into the cool night. The music dulls to a faint pulse behind me, but the ringing in my ears is all too loud. I walk without direction, the impact of what just happened pressing down on me.
I should’ve stayed home, buried in textbooks and lecture notes. Instead, I came here to a party where I never belonged, chasing a dream that was never mine to catch. And now, with the taste of “almost” on my lips and Nora’s disappointed eyes etched into my memory, I wish I’d never come at all.
The campus is quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos inside. I barely register the path back to my dorm, my mind replaying every moment, every misstep. When I finally reach my room, I close the door with a finality that echoes in the empty space.
Alone, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. It’s done. Whatever foolishness tonight brought, it ends now. Tomorrow is another day — a day for studying, for preparing, for moving forward.
And yet, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve left something important behind. Something that, once lost, I might never find again.