Chapter 30
Olivia
Bed Chem - Sabrina Carpenter
“Are you feeling alright?”
I pause mid-step, spinning to find Nash and Toby standing behind me, both looking at me suspiciously, like I’ve grown a second head.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“You’ve been humming all morning,” Nash says, frowning.
“And whistling,” Toby adds, his brow furrowed like I’ve offended his very soul.
“And?” I blink at them. “Is that illegal now?”
They exchange a look. A full-body look. “We’ve gone all morning,” Nash starts slowly, like he’s afraid to spook me, “without being told off.”
Toby nods solemnly. “Not even once.”
Shit. Maybe I have been humming. And smiling. And—God help me—even letting things slide. My hand goes straight to my hip. “And what exactly is the problem with that?”
“You’re never this nice,” Toby deadpans.
“I am always nice,” I gasp.
Nash raises a brow, and Toby outright snorts.
“Oh, fuck you both.” I huff, waving them off. “I’ve just got a stupid song stuck in my head. So what?”
“Mhm,” they hum in perfect unison.
I narrow my eyes, then clear my throat and clap my hands. “Right. If you two are done psychoanalysing me, maybe go do your actual job?”
They laugh as they walk off, and Toby mutters, “Nice try, but it’s not the same,” just loud enough for me to hear.
I grab an apple from the sack and peg it square between his shoulder blades.
He yelps. Nash loses it.
“Keep talking, and I’ll throw one at you too,” I warn.
They scatter, grinning like idiots, just as Xavier rounds the corner with a coil of rope slung over one shoulder. “Try not to waste the animals’ feed, please,” he says, deadpan. He opens his mouth like he’s about to add something else, but I cut him off.
“Oh, what? Now you’ve suddenly got an issue with me being in a good mood?”
He blinks. “I was coming to ask if you could double-check the inventory in Shed Four.”
Oh.
“Right.” I nod, recovering fast. “Of course. That’s… why you’re here.”
He gives me a long, very suspicious look before turning toward the shed again. “Make sure you tell this special someone we said thank you,” he calls over his shoulder. “He’s done us all a real favour.”
I throw my hands up. “Oh, piss off, Xavier!”
By late afternoon, I’m basically vibrating.
Not even metaphorically. Full-body-buzzing, can’t-sit-still, smiling-at-random-objects kind of vibrating.
It’s been like this lately—this thing in my chest every time I think about Sebastian.
Butterflies. Real ones. Not the fluttery nerves before a job interview kind, but the warm, fuzzy sort that show up when I know I’m about to see him again. And today? Today, I’ve got a secret.
A big, wicker-basket-shaped one sitting quietly in the boot of his car.
When he opens the front door—early finish today, thank Christ—I’m already grinning like a lunatic. “Get changed,” I say, breezing past him with zero context. “You’re driving.”
He blinks. “Well, hi to you too, Trouble.”
“Hi, Bash.” I go to kiss him on the cheek, because, well, I still don’t quite know the boundaries here. Not with Teddy around. Not with whatever this… thing is between us.
But apparently, Sebastian does. Because his hand catches my waist and suddenly his mouth is on mine—quick, deep, breath-stealing.
My knees go a little useless. So much for the cheek.
He pulls back with that look in his eyes, the one that always leaves me flustered, and I practically have to shove him toward the hallway.
“Go. Now. We’ve got places to be.”
He raises a brow as he walks backwards, half-laughing. “And where exactly am I driving to?”
“Somewhere,” I sing-song. “But we need to hurry before the sun disappears. So chop-chop.”
It’s not the first spontaneous adventure I’ve dragged him on lately. First, it was a screening of the new live-action Lilo left here, right there, go past the big gumtree that looks like a man flipping the bird. When we finally pull up, he frowns out the windscreen. “You brought us to a shed in the middle of nowhere?”
I grin. “Oh, shush.”
Teddy giggles in the back as I hop out, open the boot, and reveal the hidden picnic basket.
Sebastian lifts a brow as he pulls Teddy out of the car. “When did you manage to put that in there?”
“Don’t worry.” I wink, slamming it shut. “Follow me.”
We walk past the old tin shed and up the slight incline behind it. The air’s crisp, sweet with the smell of eucalyptus and something else—floral, earthy, like summer cracked open early just for us. And then we reach the top of the hill.
The tulip field unfurls like a secret. Rows upon rows of colour ripple in the breeze—soft pinks, fiery reds, buttery yellows, all blending into a patchwork dream.
Teddy gasps. “Whoa!”
Sebastian doesn’t say anything at first. He just stands there, staring, blinking slowly. “How did you even find this place?” he asks eventually.
I grin, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Hiking. Got lost once, and found this instead. Now it’s my spot.”
“Your spot, huh?” he echoes, one brow lifting.
“Yup. Never seen another soul here, so I’m claiming it. Finder’s keepers.”
He looks at me again, then lets his gaze sweep back over the tulip field. “It’s…” He exhales, like the word got knocked out of him. “Unreal.”
We settle on the soft grass at the edge of the field, the overflowing picnic basket between us.
Teddy’s already gone rogue, scampering around collecting fallen petals.
His gleeful shrieks echo across the field every time a butterfly flutters too close.
I packed his toys and half his car collection, so he’s thriving. Wildly entertained. Zero complaints.
I pass Sebastian a sandwich, and when he takes it, his fingers graze mine—warm, slow, intentional. His eyes meet mine, soft in a way they rarely are, like they’ve forgotten how to be anything else around me. He doesn’t speak, just reaches out and gives my hand the gentlest squeeze. And I melt.
Not outwardly—please, I’ve still got my pride—but inside?
I’m actual goo. So we sit there, not saying much.
Just existing. Me, Sebastian, Teddy, and a whole goddamn tulip field that looks like it was dropped from a dream.
And that’s when it hits me. Why I’ve been humming.
Why I’ve been whistling. Why Nash and Toby thought I was sick this morning.
Because I’m happy.
Not the fleeting kind that fades when shit gets hard—but the deep, anchored kind.
The kind that settles in your bones. That hums behind your ribs like sunlight.
That sneaks up on you when you’re not looking and refuses to leave.
Maybe the sneaking around has helped. The mind-blowing sex?
Obviously contributing. But it’s more than that.
It’s him.
And so, sitting in a tulip field, with the man who is slowly breaking down his walls, and the boy who’s stolen more of my heart than I ever planned to give… Yeah, I’m happy.
“Did you know the sound of E.T. walking was made by someone squishing their hands in jelly?” I say it without looking up. Just toss it into the room like a grenade and wait for the reaction.
Behind me, there’s a pause before Sebastian’s deep voice responds. “What?”
Teddy snorts, and I grin before glancing over at Sebastian, who is sitting at Teddy’s neon-blue plastic play table, looking absolutely ridiculous and unfairly hot. His broad shoulders are hunched, knees splayed wide, making the poor chair groan under all that man.
One of Teddy’s glue sticks is in his hand, and there’s a half-assembled paper plate turtle in front of him, googly eyes sliding to one side. Honestly, it’s obscene how much I want him.
“It’s true,” I say with a shrug, turning back to the paper waves I’m curling around a pencil. “They used jelly. For the footstep sounds.”
He says nothing, but I feel the weight of that look. The why-the-fuck-do-you-know-that kind of stare.
I shrug again. “I read it somewhere.”
“You just… casually research this stuff?”
“Not really.”
He narrows his eyes at me, that sharp, quiet stare he’s mastered. It’s infuriating. And unfairly effective. I flick the pencil off the table. “You wouldn’t get it.”
“Then explain it to me.”
The genuine curiosity in his voice throws me. He’s not teasing. He wants to know. Not in a humouring way either. Like he’s actually waiting.
It’s enough to stall me for a second. “Okay, fine. Some pads, the overnight ones, sometimes have weird facts printed on the back of the wrapper. I read it there once, and it stuck.”
He stills. Slowly, like it’s dawning on him. A smirk twitches at the edge of his mouth. “So, you’re telling me the mystery of this knowledge… is feminine hygiene packaging?”
“Yes, I know. Shocking.”
Sebastian starts shaking his head. Not at me. Just at the absurdity of the moment. Like, this is what his life has become. Crafts and jelly facts and period trivia with me.
“You’re supposed to be making the water,” Teddy’s voice pipes up, not even looking up from the mutant-looking koala he’s drawing. It has six fingers and no ears.
“I am making it,” I sing, twirling the paper. “Look, ocean waves. Ta-da!”
Sebastian snorts. A real one. Deep and unfiltered.