Chapter 8
Noah
Holding Ollie is like holding the warm sunshine. One that I’m not ready to let go of. It’s getting late but Ollie has finally relaxed into the night and we chat about her life in Milwaukee.
She may have lived there for the last ten years but still feels like a tourist so she, Caroline, and Savannah made a pact to do one thing a month to make them feel more like Milwaukee natives. Which is ironic because both girls are from big cities.
“Our townhouse is not far from the waterfront and one of my favorite things about the city is the way the sunsets over the water. It gives this perfect reflection of pinks and oranges into the river water that is just so calming and mind-cleansing after a hard day,” she describes.
“That sounds so nice, we spent most of our time in the desert, so the last time I saw the sunset over water was…I don’t even remember,” I reply.
Her face drops, not with sadness but concern for me, and my life overseas.
“Being so close to the parks, bookstores, restaurants, and bars is one of the most convenient things and it is the one thing I’d miss the most if we move outside the city,” Ollie replies with a hint of sadness to her voice.
I stay quiet and continue to look at her as she elaborates “We have talked about moving outside of the city to a house with a yard for Gus, Mason’s dog, but every time it comes up we end up right back at the convenience factor. ”
“Do you want to move out of the city?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“The short answer is no. Not immediately, having forever changing running trails, endless nights of live music, new restaurants, and monthly bookstore trips with Caroline are my entire life. They are the light in the hardest of days. Being able to come home, change, and walk to the park, place the blanket in the soft, vibrant green grass and listen to whatever local indie band is playing is like having a little piece of home it the city,” she answers.
Ollie has always loved being outside, but small-town Wisconsin made it difficult to spend time outside in the winter, which was the majority of the year.
Especially living close to the lake, we get a lot of lake-effect snow, and if it's not winter it’s probably raining so being able to lose yourself in a fantasy world was her favorite way to hide away from the cold and the snow.
Even as a child, when she was fighting with the boys, Penelope, or even her parents she often would “run away,” later to be found on a small wooden swing hanging from a tree in the backyard just staring off into space at the pond.
“It sounds like you guys already know the real answer then,” I say, unsure of why I feel disappointment with her excitement.
“Oh! And there is this really amazing margarita place, they have these skinny girl margs of various flavors. But the spicy cucumber jalapeno is to die for, literally.”
She continues to talk about Mexican food, and girl’s nights full of margaritas but I don’t really hear anything else she says because I can’t help but smile listening to her talk about her favorite city things, seeing how far she has grown since we first became friends in high school orientation.
She has changed in so many ways. She’s more outgoing, sharing her passions instead of sitting in silence, fighting the internal monologue of public speaking and ice breakers; and more beautiful than ever. God, she really is beautiful.
I always thought she was cute but she has changed and matured into this beautiful, independent woman.
Her chestnut hair is long and flowy, but not too long to be annoying.
Her olive skin is permanently tan, but smooth and soft to the touch.
She’s filled out perfectly from that rail-thin soccer player she was in high school.
And she fits snugly into my side with my arm around her.
Ollie’s nose is slightly crooked from when she broke it during a state soccer game but refused to stop playing once the bleeding stopped.
But what gets me are those big hazel eyes and her impeccable smile.
They will light up an entire room upon walking in.
At a few points throughout the night I want to tell her about my orders or lack thereof but, I chicken out each time.
I'm finally getting Ollie back in my life and I don’t want that to change.
I know it will, because after everything, she doesn’t even want to talk about that night.
She’s still hurt and it’s because of me, I feel my heart starting to ache knowing that I’m the reason for that pain.
My phone buzzes and I know that it's either Bec or my mom checking in regarding our ability to drive home, and I quickly shoot a text back that we’re going to stay at the bed and breakfast here.
Ollie’s looking at me confused, like she received a similar text, when I realize they created a group chat. Shit.
“Ollie, neither of us can drive, the bed and breakfast is open and it’s off-season,” I say
“Are we sure that is a good idea?” she replies quietly.
“Yes, trust me,” I say and when she doesn’t reply I ask, “Do you trust me, Ollie?”
There is a brief pause in her response and my heart rate increases, worried that I’ve overstepped the invisible boundary we set tonight.
“Come on, let's get one more drink, I want to hear more about that park you love.”
We continue to talk until we hear the barback yell from the doorway to get moving, and realize it’s already almost 2 a.m and Fishy’s is closing.
It took some coaxing but she finally agreed to stay at the bed and breakfast under one condition.
She needs to be back at her house by nine to help her dad and brothers with something on the farm.
Except it’s already two in the morning and if we have to leave by eight, that means she is getting a maximum of six hours of sleep.
I bet she is going to be a monster in the morning, without at least six or seven hours of sleep.
She always was grouchy in the morning without sleep or a vat of coffee and I don’t think she is going to get either.
Whereas, I’m lucky if I get seven hours of sleep over three days.
We begin walking to the bed and breakfast through the frosted pathway. The walkway from the bar to the bed and breakfast was shoveled yesterday, but there is already a dusting of snow covering the walkway tonight.
The warm orange light coming from the steamed-over front window, paired with the smiling college student on winter break sitting behind the desk, and the welcoming atmosphere is why I’ve always loved coming to the bed and breakfast. The young man’s smile grows when he realizes who we are, a perk of a small town, everyone knows everyone and will greet you with a smile no matter what.
“How can I help you?” he asks kindly, sounding a bit tired. We are likely the only people he’s seen in the last five hours, and I’d be willing to bet he wasn’t expecting anyone to walk in at this hour.
“We need a room with two beds for tonight, please,” I reply, trying to emphasize the two beds part as quietly as possible.
It has been eons since Ollie and I spent the night together, and there is a sudden sense of nervousness and anxiety that rushes over me that I did not expect twenty minutes ago when I suggested staying here.
“Okay, give me one minute to gather some information and we will get you checked in,” he replies with a slight smile on his face.
After a few minutes of entering information, the young man hands us our keys to the room, and yes, they are literal keys.
This house is a historical masterpiece in our timeless town, which means in order to make significant updates it takes a committee, a town vote, and about every step in between making the update not worth the investment.
Ollie unlocks the door swiftly and sneaks past. I push the door open and smack right into the back of Ollie as I walk in.
She stops walking and is just staring into the dimly lit room.
I place both hands on the outsides of her shoulders to ensure I don’t knock her over and glance past her into the room.
One bed.
There is only one bed in the room, the room I specifically asked for two beds.
“I’ll go back to the front…” I start to say realizing now why the kid at the front was smiling when he was checking us in. Ollie unfreezes and continues into the room.
“No,” she whispers, with such sincere hesitation that you would think she is asking a question instead of making a statement.
I slowly follow her farther into the room and notice that it's also only a full-size bed, which is against the wall. Who the heck designs a room with one nightstand and the bed against the wall? Then I realize we are probably in the smallest room in this entire building.
“It’s fine, we’ve slept in the same bed before. What’s one night?” she asks.
“Ollie, I’ll sleep on the floor,” I say. After our hug earlier, I don’t know if I can keep my hands to myself for the entirety of the night if we have to share the bed.
“Noah, it’s a hardwood floor with a cheap old rug with who knows what on it. You’re sleeping in the bed, you can stay on the outside and I’ll take the wall." This is more of a demand than a debate, and I instantly know there is no winning this.
Looking around the room I notice there is a very old hunter-green velvet loveseat that would probably fit my torso and half of a leg, which is probably the “second bed” in the room.
For a second I contemplate offering to sleep on it, but the second Ollie plops down onto it and grunts, I quickly nix that idea.
She pats the spot next to her softly, indicating she wants me to sit next to her.
I can tell she is still feeling the alcohol by the haze in her eyes, the soft giggle she lets out as I sit next to her and the couch creaks as if it's going to collapse beneath us.
Ollie’s quiet giggle fades into a deep, sad sigh. “I'm not ready for tonight to be over.” She sighs as she leans her head against my chest.
I wrap my arms around the top of her shoulders and whisper, “Me neither.”
Little does she know, I want to stay like this forever. Cause even after one night, after all these years, I'm still in love with Olivia Bennett and all I can do is hope she still feels the same.
We move to a more comfortable position on the couch where I’m against one side and she sits criss-cross-applesauce on the other side facing me, and we continue chatting.
I tell her as much as I can about my time overseas, which is mostly just what life was like living in a desert on a cot for so long.
Long story short, a lot of time in the “gym.”
She shows me some houses she and her friends are looking at renting farther outside of the city.
They want a bigger space so the dog has a small yard to run around, but all will miss the downtown lifestyle, which is why they haven’t committed to one yet.
As we continue to talk, Ollie inches closer and closer on the couch so that our shoulders are touching.
She’is curled up, sitting on top of her legs and feet and when she shows me a photo or a video or laughs, she leans in closer, resting her head against me.
“Oh my gosh, it's already four in the morning!” Ollie exclaims in a loud whisper, trying not to wake anyone in the house since the walls are thin. Good thing the only other person here is the kid at the front. “We have to go to bed!”
I feel my shoulders sink, knowing she is right but not ready to be away from her.
There is a huge weight dropped directly onto me knowing this night is coming to an end but also a fear that I will never see her again.
She’ll get up early, and call Cole to come pick her up before I even know what happened.
We haven’t even talked about how long she is home for, or if she wants to get together again, or stay in touch or anything.
If I’m never going to see her again, I at least want the opportunity to say goodbye this time.