Chapter 7 – Oliver
Two minutes late.
Of course, the bell would ring late today — the one day I actually want time to move.
I tap my pencil against the desk, staring at the clock like I can force it to behave faster.
Six hours and thirty-eight minutes until I see Ellie.
Not that I’m counting.
Except I absolutely am.
I can’t believe Ellie is actually going on a date with me.
I lean back in my chair, trying to look like I’m paying attention while Mr. Hargrove drones on about Reconstruction. I’m not hearing a single word. My brain is too busy replaying her messages.
My chest tightens in that weird, warm way it only does when I think about her lately.
I haven’t felt like this in over a year. I honestly thought I wouldn’t again.
The clock ticks. Loudly. Mockingly.
11:23.
I swear it’s moving slower on purpose.
I glance down at my phone under the desk — just to check the time, not the messages. (Okay, maybe the messages.) Her name sits there at the top of my screen, and I have to stop myself from smiling like an idiot.
Focus, Oliver.
Just get through this class.
Then go home.
Then get ready.
Then… Ellie.
My leg bounces under the desk, and trying to force it still is useless. I’m wired. Completely gone. My mind is already at 6:00 p.m., sitting across from her at The Lantern House, trying not to say something stupid.
The bell finally rings — two minutes late, because of course it does — and I’m out of my seat before the sound even fades.
Today can’t go fast enough for me.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
My heart jumps.
Is it Ellie?
I pull it out so fast I almost drop it.
Nope. It’s Gage.
Of course it is.
I swipe open the message anyway.
Gage: bro, i need you. Like now.
Gage: friday deal is insane.
Gage: and three of our people didn’t show up.
Gage: please tell me you’re not busy.
I sigh, but it’s not an annoyed sigh. It’s the kind of sigh you let out when you already know you’re going to say yes.
Because it’s gage. And because helping him means time moves faster. And because sitting at home thinking about ellie for six hours straight might actually kill me.
I text back:
Me: i’m on my way.
Me: don’t panic .
Me: yet.
He replies instantly.
Gage: THANK YOU. I OWE YOU MY LIFE.
My thumb hesitates for a second before I type:
Me: NO. I owe it to you.
Because if it wasn’t for him — I know for a fact Ellie and I wouldn’t be going on a date.
I lock my phone, shake my head, with a small smile, and push through the crowded hallway toward the parking lot. My backpack feels lighter, my steps faster, like my whole body is buzzing with something I haven’t felt in a long time.
Hope.
I weave through students spilling out of classrooms, everyone talking, laughing, complaining about homework — normal stuff. But today, none of it touches me. My mind is somewhere else entirely.
Ellie.
Her smile.
Her messages.
The way she said I would love to — like she meant it.
I reach my car—and unlock it with a soft beep. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
Six hours and… what, thirty-three minutes now?
I start the engine, the familiar hum settling under my hands. Helping Gage will make the time go faster. And honestly? I need the distraction.
Because if I sit alone with my thoughts for too long, I’m going to drive myself insane imagining every possible way tonight could go wrong… or right.
I pull out of the parking lot, the afternoon sun hitting the windshield, and for the first time in a long time, the future doesn’t feel heavy.
It feels like it’s finally moving toward something good.
By the time I pull into the B&B parking lot, my nerves are buzzing again — but for once, it’s the good kind. The kind that makes my chest feel too small and my hands a little shaky.
I walk inside, and before I can say anything, Gage spots me from behind the counter.
“There he is!” he shouts, throwing his hands up like I’m some kind of hero. “Thank you. Thank you. My savior. My king. My—”
“Stop,” I laugh, tossing my backpack under the counter.
“Actually,” I say quietly, leaning closer so no one else hears, “I should be thanking you.”
Gage pauses mid-pour, eyebrows lifting. “Me? For what?”
I swallow, suddenly feeling stupidly, unexpectedly shy. “For… yesterday. For telling Ellie. For… everything.”
His grin spreads slow and smug. “Oh? Everything, huh?”
I glare at him, but it’s useless — he’s already vibrating with excitement.
“Oliver,” he says, eyes widening, “did something happen?”
I exhale, rubbing the back of my neck. “We… have a date. Tonight.”
Gage freezes.
Then explodes.
“TONIGHT?!” He practically slams the milk pitcher down. “Bro, what?! You didn’t tell me it was TONIGHT!”
“You didn’t ask,” I mutter, cheeks burning.
He grabs my shoulders and shakes me once. “Oliver. You have a DATE. With ELLIE. TONIGHT.”
“I know,” I say, trying not to smile like an idiot. “Trust me. I know.”
Gage lets out a noise that sounds like a squeal and a cough at the same time. “Okay, okay, okay — we’re talking about this while we work. Move. Friday deal is killing me.”
We fall into rhythm — drinks, orders, wiping counters — but every few minutes, Gage shoots me a look like he’s about to combust.
“So, what are you wearing?” “Are you picking her up?” “Do you need cologne? I have cologne.” “Do NOT wear that ugly gray shirt.”
I shove him lightly. “Can you focus?”
“No,” he says. “Absolutely not. My boy is going on a DATE.”
Despite myself, I laugh. It feels good — easy.
Before I know it, the night crew walks in — right on time at 5:00 p.m.
Gage claps me on the back. “Go. Go get ready. And Oliver?”
“Yeah?”
He grins. “Don’t screw it up.”
I shake my head, grabbing my keys. “Thanks for the confidence.”
“Anytime,” he says, winking.
I step outside into the cool evening air, my heart pounding.
Time to get ready.
Time to see her.
Time to breathe.
As I pull up to my driveway, my heart is beating fast enough that I might actually have a heart attack. Time is getting so close.
I rush inside, drop my keys somewhere—I’ll find them later—and head straight to my room. My hands are shaking slightly as I pull off my shirt and toss it onto the bed.
While I get ready, I can’t help it. All I’m thinking about is Ellie.
Her smile.
Her voice.
Her message.
But then the fear creeps in, sharp and sudden.
What if I screw it up? What if I say something stupid? What if she regrets it halfway through the night? What if she realizes I’m… me?
I stare at myself in the mirror, running a hand through my hair for the tenth time. I look like someone who’s trying too hard. Someone who hasn’t been on a date in over a year. I look —
No. Stop. Breathe.
She said yes. She wants to be there. She wants to see me.
I grab a clean shirt—dark blue, the one Gage said doesn’t make me look like a “lost math tutor”—and pull it on. I check the time.
5:42.
My stomach flips.
It’s time.
As I’m walking out of my room, my mom teasingly says, “Where you going, son? Why are you looking like you’re going somewhere special?”
“Mom. Stop.” I nervously laugh, tugging at the hem of my shirt like it’ll magically make me look less obvious.
“Is it a girl?” she asks immediately.
I freeze.
She gasps. Loudly. “OMG. How is she? Is she nice? Does she know how to cook? Tell me everything about her.”
Mom starts firing questions like a rapid fire.
“Mom. I’m going to be late. Love you, see you later.” I say, practically speed-walking through the hallway.
“Love you too! Don’t forget to be a gentleman. Just like Grandpa taught you!” she calls out in that loud-but-loving mom voice.
“Got it, Mom. Thank you,” I say, already halfway out the door.
As I pull out of the driveway, my chest tightens—not bad, but in that overwhelming, hopeful way that makes everything feel too big and too important.
I’m going to see her. I’m going to sit across from her. I’m going to try my hardest not to ruin it.
And God, I hope she smiles when she sees me.
The drive to The Lantern House feels unreal. Every red light feels personal, like it’s mocking me. Every slow car feels like a test of patience I’m failing. My hands keep tightening on the steering wheel, loosening, tightening again.
I pull into the parking lot, heart pounding so hard it feels like it’s echoing in my ears. The restaurant’s warm lights glow against the evening sky, soft and golden.
I park. Turn off the engine. Sit there for a second.
This is happening.
I step out of the car, straighten my shirt, and take a breath that doesn’t help even a little.
Then I walk toward the entrance.
And I wait.
Every car that pulls in makes my heart jump. Every set of footsteps makes me look up.
And then—
I see her.
Ellie.
So beautiful.
So impossibly perfect.