7. Olivia
Chapter seven
Olivia
This is it. The end. Nothing anyone says or does will change my mind, not even the sound of my brother pounding on my bedroom door for nearly twenty minutes.
"Ollie, you're being childish," Daniel groans from the other side, his voice muffled but full of frustration. "I can hear you moving around in there."
"I'm not going to any more wedding planning meetings, Daniel. Not until you find another best man," I shout back, my voice thick with defiance. For a moment, I think about holding my ground, but then I throw open the door, letting him in.
His face is haggard, like he’s just come out of a war zone—dark circles under his eyes, his blond hair sticking up like he hasn’t slept in days. But none of it is enough to sway me this time. My brother isn’t going to guilt-trip me into another meeting with Elliot, especially after the trainwreck the last one was.
Daniel flops down on my bed, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Ollie, it’s just weeks until my wedding. I can’t exactly put up a sign that says 'Best Man Needed Urgently,' or find a website with best men for hire. Do you know anyone?"
"Of course I don’t know any websites like that. This isn’t some Hollywood rom-com." I cross my arms, my voice thick with irritation. "But I’m still not going through that again. Not with Elliot."
Daniel opens his mouth, likely to argue, then shuts it again, clearly at a loss for words. My eyes scan his faded orange shirt, stopping at the patch of dried coffee on it. I can’t imagine how many cups he’s had today, but the fact that he’s still standing after all that caffeine is impressive—or maybe just sad.
Finally, he stands up, stepping closer, and wraps his arms around me from behind. It’s a gesture of comfort, but it’s also a subtle plea for me to back down. And for a moment, I feel the walls I’ve been building over the past few days crack just a little.
“Don’t do that, Dee. You’re not going to change my mind,” I say, my voice softer than I intend.
He sighs, resting his chin on my shoulder. "Was the fight really that bad this time? Julia told me you threw a bag of flour at him. I mean, turning my best friend into an abominable snowman should be enough revenge, right?"
There’s a slight smile on his face, but I can see the worry behind it. It’s as if he’s trying to make light of the situation, but the tension is still there. And, of course, once again, my brother wins this round.
I know he’s right. The flour—no matter how satisfying in the moment—won’t undo what’s been said or done. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to let it go just yet. Not with Elliot. Not with how everything’s changed.
The thought of the flour incident still makes me laugh, especially the look of utter shock on Elliot’s face as the flour exploded all over him. But, as satisfying as it was in the moment, it doesn’t change the hurtful things he said.
"He called me delusional and said a bunch of other mean things, so no, I don’t feel satisfied," I protest, catching the faint hint of laughter in my brother’s voice.
"But you are a little delusional, Ollie. Everyone knows that," Daniel starts, clearly trying to keep things light, but I elbow him hard in the belly before he can finish.
"Ouch!" he yelps, rubbing the spot where I jabbed him.
"You do this every time, Dee. You always side with Elliot! When stuff like this happens, you should be on my side," I groan, feeling the sting of unshed tears behind my eyes.
Before I can say more, Daniel pulls me into a tight hug, squeezing me hard. "I’m not taking sides, Ollie," he says softly. "I just wish the two people I care about would stop making this wedding a hell of a lot harder than it already is with their constant bickering."
I sigh, knowing he’s right. From trying to give Julia the wedding of her dreams to the tug-of-war between me and Elliot, Daniel’s been stretched thin, and I can see it weighing on him.
"You look a mess," I mutter, hugging him back, yielding to the comfort he’s offering.
Daniel pulls away, sniffing his shirt with a dramatic gag. "You saying I look a mess is the nicest way to put it. Julia says I look like I’ve been run over by a truck and refuses to even look at me until I clean up," he says, gesturing to his disheveled appearance with a theatrical sweep of his hand.
I laugh—a real laugh for the first time since the flour incident with Elliot. "I think she's right. You might want to see a stylist, and who knows, maybe I'll attend the next meeting."
Daniel plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek. "Thanks, kiddo. You're the best sister ever."
As he heads for the door, I call out, stopping him just as his fingers wrap around the knob. "Hey, Dee—between me and Elliot, who do you love more?"
His face scrunches like I’ve just hit him with an SAT question. With a dramatic sigh of defeat, he mumbles, "Well, I love Julia," and rushes out of the room.
"I knew it! You love Elliot more. Loser!" I shout after him, still smiling.
With Daniel gone, I survey my bedroom. It’s a total disaster—clothes and books strewn everywhere, just like my thoughts. I’m no better, really, considering I’ve been wearing the same purple joggers and socks for two days straight. But in my defense, I have showered, and at least I don’t have coffee stains like Daniel.
As I start picking up books, my gaze lands on one I’d almost forgotten about. My fingers trail over the dusted cover: Sleeping Beauty . I don’t need to open it to remember the ending—a prince wakes the sleeping beauty with a kiss, and they live happily ever after.
Every little girl grows up knowing that story, dreaming of their own prince. But now, staring at the book, I wonder if Elliot is right about me being delusional. I mean, falling in love after one kiss? It sounds ridiculous, right?
Still, I know love exists—maybe not the fairy tale version, but real love, like Daniel and Julia's. They went from awkward fifteen-year-olds in book club to walking down the aisle in just a few weeks. Maybe Elliot’s right that it’s stupid or unrealistic, but that’s the thing about love—it happens in the most unexpected ways, and often with the people we least expect.
I keep tidying up, hoping to finish in time for a quick walk. But by the time I’ve showered, the sun has already set, leaving a soft, dim glow in the sky. I slip into a pair of jeans and a hoodie, deciding that a walk to the beach is just what I need, even if it means risking an encounter with Elliot.
As I tiptoe down the stairs, I spot Daniel and Julia snuggled together on the couch, fast asleep with the TV still on. Smiling to myself, I quietly slip out the door. The cool breeze greets me, and I’m grateful for the hoodie. The salty scent of the ocean fills the air as I walk toward the beach, passing a few townies out walking their dogs.
This could be the inspiration I need for a new blog post. Writing has been tough ever since the fight with Elliot—I blame my fragile heart for letting his words sting so deeply. But tonight, under the bright moon, with the waves crashing against the rocks, there’s a sense of peace that settles over me.
"This is it, Ollie," I whisper to myself as music plays softly through my Air Pods. "This calmness... this is the kind of life you want."
I finally understand why some people never leave Honey Grove, why Daniel is choosing to stay. This town isn't a cage—it’s home. I’d convinced myself that it was holding me back, but after years of wandering, I still found my way back here.
Of course, my thoughts drift to Elliot. He always tenses up at the mention of love. His family is a mystery, but everyone in town knows about his father leaving after an affair when Elliot was sixteen. That’s probably when he started to change.
I’d like to pretend he’s always been this cold, but he wasn’t. I remember the first time he came over, the way he smiled at me, the silly jokes, how he helped me set up my dollhouse. That smile disappeared not long after, but it was real once. Maybe it still exists somewhere beneath all that hurt, but it’s not my job to find it.
"Elliot's a jerk now," I remind myself firmly. "That’s all I need to know."
I glance at my phone and realize how much time has passed. Inspiration for a blog post still eludes me, but at least I got to enjoy the ocean. Maybe I’ll end up with a cold, too, but it was worth it.
As I turn to head back, I hear rustling from the bushes. Before I have time to panic, a small, hairy creature darts out and barrels into me, sending me tumbling into the water.
"Hold on!" I squeal, but it’s too late. I land with a splash, soaking wet.
"Maximus!" A familiar voice calls out, and I don’t even need to see his face to recognize it. Elliot Sharp.
As he rushes toward me, I clutch the excited dog to my chest. He helps me up, and Maximus shakes off the water all over both of us.
"Ollie?" Elliot asks, sounding genuinely surprised as he finally registers it’s me.
I yank my hands away from his. "Great. Just what I needed to end the night."
Elliot doesn’t say anything as he shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around me. His touch lingers for a second too long, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—remorse, maybe?
"Can you let go of me now?" I mutter, my voice barely steady.
"I’m not holding you," he replies, sounding confused.
I glance over my shoulder, realizing he’s already stepped away. So why do I still feel the warmth of his touch on my skin?