Chapter 25- Ellie
The final bell rings, and for the first time in days, I don’t rush out of the classroom.
I wait.
Because I know he’ll be there.
And he is.
Oliver leans against the wall outside my lecture hall, backpack slung over one shoulder, hair a little messy from the wind. When he sees me, his whole face softens — that tiny smile he only ever gives me.
My heart does a stupid little flip.
We fall into step together, walking down the hallway and out into the warm afternoon air. The sun feels brighter today. The breeze feels softer. Or maybe it’s just him. Maybe it’s us.
We walk toward the parking lot slowly, like neither of us wants the moment to end. My fingers brush his, and he catches my hand without even thinking about it.
It feels… right.
“So,” he says, glancing at me with that shy-but-not-shy smile, “I was thinking…”
“About what?”
He hesitates for half a second — just long enough to make my stomach flutter — then says:
“Wouldn’t it be cool to get away for a weekend? Just us?”
I stop walking.
My heart does a full somersault.
“A weekend?” I repeat, trying not to sound like I’m about to explode from happiness.
“Yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like… a small trip. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere we can breathe.”
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “That sounds amazing.”
He looks relieved — like he was hoping I’d say that.
“We could go this weekend,” he adds. “Saturday and Sunday. Ask for two days off. Drive somewhere pretty. Maybe… Starlace Hollow?”
My breath catches.
Starlace Hollow.
The place I’ve always wanted to see.
The place with the stars so bright they look painted.
“Oliver,” I whisper, “that sounds perfect.”
He squeezes my hand. “Then let’s do it.”
My cheeks are already warm from smiling, but then Oliver slows his steps, glancing down at me with that thoughtful look he gets when he’s about to say something serious.
“There’s just one thing,” he says.
My heart stutters. “What?”
He squeezes my hand gently. “I want to ask your dad.”
I blink. “Ask him… what?”
“If it’s okay for me to take you,” he says softly. “It’s my responsibility. And I want to do it right.”
My breath catches.
Because he means it.
Because he’s not just saying it to be polite. Because Oliver has always been careful with me — with my heart, with my safety, with my dad’s trust.
“You don’t have to,” I whisper, even though the idea makes my chest warm.
“I know,” he says, brushing his thumb over my knuckles. “But I want to. He’s important to you. And you’re important to me.”
I swear my knees almost give out.
Oliver opens the passenger door for me, and I slide in, still trying to process the fact that this boy — this beautiful, gentle boy — wants to ask my dad for permission to take me on a weekend trip.
He gets in on his side, starts the engine, then looks at me again.
“Let’s go talk to him,” he says. “Together.”
My stomach flips, but in the best way.
I nod, smiling so hard it almost hurts.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s go.”
And as we pull out of the parking lot, excitement bubbles in my chest — not just for the trip, not just for Starlace Hollow, but for the way Oliver and my dad have built something real between them.
Something safe.
Something trusting.
Something that makes me feel like my world is finally coming together.
Before we go to my house, we stop by at Oliver’s house to pick up Moony.
The drive to my house feels shorter than usual. Maybe because my heart is beating too fast. Maybe because Oliver keeps glancing over at me with that soft smile that makes my stomach flip. Maybe because Moony keeps sticking her head between the seats like she’s part of the conversation.
When we pull into the driveway, I swear my palms get sweaty.
Oliver notices. Of course he does.
He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Hey,” he murmurs, “it’s just your dad.”
“I know,” I say, laughing nervously. “That’s the problem.”
He grins, and it calms me more than it should.
We walk up the steps together, Moony trotting ahead like she owns the place. Before we even knock, the door swings open.
And there he is.
My dad.
Smiling.
Not the polite smile he gives strangers. Not the tired smile he gives after work. The real one — the warm, dad smile that reaches his eyes.
“Well, look who it is,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. “My favorite troublemakers.”
I feel my cheeks heat up. “Dad…”
Moony barks once, tail wagging like she’s greeting her second owner. Gregory bends down to pet her, laughing under his breath.
Then he looks up at Oliver.
“Good to see you, son.”
And Oliver… God. He lights up.
Not in a dramatic way — in that quiet, grateful way he gets when someone treats him like he belongs.
“Good to see you too, sir,” he says, voice steady but respectful.
My heart squeezes.
We step inside, and the house feels warmer than usual. Familiar. Safe. Like the universe is lining everything up exactly where it needs to be.
Oliver glances at me once — a silent you ready? — and I nod, even though my stomach is doing cartwheels.
He clears his throat.
“Mr. Vazzola,” he starts, hands in his pockets, shoulders straight, “I wanted to ask you something.”
Dad raises an eyebrow, amused. “Alright. Shoot.”
Oliver takes a breath — the kind you take before saying something important.
“I wanted to ask if it’s okay for me to take Ellie on a small weekend trip. Just Saturday and Sunday. A camping trip. Somewhere quiet. I’ll take care of her. I promise.”
My heart stops.
Dad looks between us — at Oliver’s sincerity, at my hopeful face — and then he smiles again. Softer this time.
“You know,” he says, crossing his arms, “you don’t have to ask.”
Oliver blinks. “I… don’t?”
“No,” Gregory says, shaking his head. “I trust you. Both of you. Just be careful. And have fun.”
I swear I almost burst into tears.
Oliver lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Thank you, sir. Really.”
Dad pats his shoulder. “Go make some memories.”
And just like that, Oliver looks at me — eyes bright, smile wide — and I know we’re both thinking the same thing.
We’re going to Starlace Hollow.
Together.
Dad pats Oliver’s shoulder one more time, then steps back with a grin.
“You two hungry?” he asks, already grabbing his keys from the hook. “I was thinking take-out tonight. Burgers? Fries? Milkshakes?”
My stomach growls at the exact wrong moment, and Oliver laughs under his breath.
“Yes, please,” I say, trying not to sound as excited as I feel.
“Alright,” Daddy chuckles. “I’ll go pick it up. You kids stay here and relax.”
He gives us one last warm smile before heading out the door. The moment it closes, the house falls into that soft, comfortable quiet — the kind that only happens when you’re with someone who makes you feel safe.
Oliver and I settle on the couch, Moony hopping up between us like she’s claiming her spot. I grab the remote and put on The S’mores in the Past , our favorite comedy show. The theme song plays, and Oliver immediately starts laughing at the first joke.
It feels easy.
It feels normal.
It feels like us.
Halfway through the episode, we’re both laughing so hard we can barely breathe. Oliver leans back, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.
“I forgot how funny this show is,” he says, still smiling.
“I know,” I giggle. “We haven’t watched it together in forever.”
He looks at me then — really looks at me — and the laughter softens into something quieter. Warmer. His knee brushes mine, and neither of us moves away.
Moony hops off the couch, wandering toward the kitchen, leaving a small space between us that suddenly feels charged.
Oliver’s voice drops a little. “I missed this.”
My heart flutters. “Me too.”
We’re still smiling, still close, still wrapped in the glow of the TV light when our eyes meet again. And for a moment, the world feels like it slows down.
He leans in just a little.
I lean in too.
Our foreheads almost touch.
It’s soft.
It’s sweet.
It’s the kind of moment that feels like a secret.
His hand brushes mine, fingers gently curling around my own. My breath catches — not in a dramatic way, just in that quiet, fluttery way that happens when someone you love is close enough to feel.
Then—
Headlights sweep across the living room window.
We both freeze.
A beat of silence.
Then we burst into quiet, breathless laughter — the kind that makes your cheeks warm and your heart race.
“Oh my gosh,” I whisper, covering my face.
Oliver grins, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. “Your dad’s home.”
We’re still laughing softly as he stands, smoothing his shirt.
“I’m gonna, uh… freshen up,” he says, pointing toward the hallway.
“Yeah,” I say, still smiling. “Good idea.”
He disappears down the hall, and I sink back into the couch, pressing my hands to my warm cheeks, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach.
Because even though nothing happened… something almost did. And that almost was enough to make my heart feel full.
The front door swings open again, and Dad steps inside balancing two big paper bags that smell like heaven.
“Alright,” he announces, kicking the door shut behind him, “I come bearing gifts.”
Moony’s ears perk up immediately, tail wagging like she’s about to launch into orbit. Dad laughs and sets the bags on the coffee table.
“Okay, okay, calm down,” he tells her, even though she’s already sniffing the air like a detective.
Oliver comes back from the hallway just in time, hair slightly damp from washing his hands, cheeks still a little pink. Dad hands him a burger box without even asking what he wants — he just knows.
We all sit down, and for a moment, nobody says anything.
Not because it’s awkward.
Not because we’re avoiding conversation.
But because we’re starving.
The only sounds are wrappers crinkling, fries being stolen, and Moony’s hopeful little huffs every time someone moves their hand too close to her.
Dad finally breaks the silence with a satisfied sigh. “Nothing hits like greasy food after a long day.”