Chapter 32 #2
Only a few moments later, Oliver’s comically large feet, still in socks, appear next to mine in the kitchen.
I sense him standing beside me, bending over, and mimicking my weird pose.
“Sooooo,” he says, his voice funny as it’s projected straight at the floor.
“I guess I’m coming to Thanksgiving after all? ”
“I’m so sorry,” I whine, straightening up. “I panicked. She was trying to set me up with some random Tech student whose parents they met at church. Fuck, I can’t believe they were about to stoop that low. Is my queerness really that upsetting?”
Oliver mirrors me, then turns around and leans his back against the counter. “Hey, don’t sweat it. I wanted to help, so now I’m helping.”
“You really don’t have to. I can wait until the last minute and tell her you changed your mind, or maybe your family didn’t want you to come.” I gasp. “Oh shit, your family! I’m sure you already have Thanksgiving plans with them, don’t you?”
Oliver shrugs. “Honestly, Thanksgiving has never been that big of a deal to my family, not like Christmas or anything. The most we do for Thanksgiving is have dinner with my stepmom’s parents, Charli and Bella’s grandparents.
My dad’s family still lives in Raleigh, so my paternal grandparents spend Christmas with us, but never Thanksgiving.
I’m sure my family would be fine having dinner the next day or something. ”
I run both hands through my hair, tugging a bit at the roots. “Are you sure?”
Oliver gently reaches out, curling his fingers beneath my chin and tilting my face up to look at him. His eyes are soft, and his lips curve into the most tender smile I’ve ever seen on him. “I’m positive, Jude. Please let me do this for you.”
My skin tingles where we touch, and my heart pounds frantically behind my ribs. Fuck, I love him. I love him so much it hurts. “Okay,” I say, my voice slightly shaky. “Okay, let’s do it.”
Oliver’s smile widens. “Okay, great! What do I need to know?”
I groan again. “Other than the fact that they’re mostly terrible?”
“Come on, they can’t all be terrible! How many kids will be there?”
Oh, fuck, I hadn’t considered that. I don’t necessarily want children, and I prefer to pretend I don’t have internal reproductive organs. Still, I fear my ovaries might explode at the sight of Oliver interacting with my young nieces, nephews, and cousins. “Eight? Yeah, eight.”
“That won’t be so bad!” Oliver says eagerly. “We’ll just pick them over the adults. Easy peasy.”
I sigh, then rub a hand down my face. “Easy peasy.”
Oliver chuckles softly. “Hey, we’ve got weeks before we have to worry about this, okay? Let’s watch a movie or something to take your mind off it. We can figure out the details later.”
He’s right. Stressing about it won’t change anything—it’ll just make me miserable. I manage a small smile. “Yeah, okay.”
Oliver leads the way back to the living room, where he plops down on the right side of the couch.
In one motion, he stretches his left arm over the back of the sofa and extends his legs in front of him, propping his socked feet on the coffee table.
I sit in the center of the couch and prop my feet up next to his.
Once we select one of my comfort movies—Across The Universe, to be specific—Oliver’s left hand brushes against my left shoulder, and I shiver.
The film opens on a man sitting alone on a beach; an eerie swell of strings plays in the background as he looks straight into the camera and begins to sing. My entire body breaks out in chills as the Beatles' lyrics lap over my consciousness like the waves in the scene.
“Is there anybody going to listen to my story? All about the girl who came to stay. She’s the kind of girl you want so much it makes you sorry. Still, you don’t regret a single day.”
“Ooh, are you cold?” Oliver asks, rubbing the goosebumps on my arm. “You’ve got chillbumps!” He gives my whole body a light squeeze, pulling me closer.
I gulp. “Yeah, sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry! It just means we have to cuddle.”
As I’m held in the safety of Oliver’s long, slender arms, breathing in his comforting scent and soaking up his warmth, only one thought echoes through my skull:
God, I’m so fucked.
Monday, November 10, 2025
“Jude, you’ve got to be shitting me,” Celeste exclaims.
“I wish I were,” I reply.
Celeste shakes her head and turns to Max. “Are you hearing this?”
Max’s head is in his hands. “Yeah, I hear it.” He looks up, meeting my gaze, perplexed. “How do you end up in a real-life fake-dating trope? I can’t even get a text back!”
Celeste rolls her eyes. “Max, focus.”
“Sorry.”
“So, what do I do?” I plead.
“You could just say you’re sick,” Max suggests. “Tell your parents you came down with the flu. Covid. Food poisoning. Anything.”
“But Oliver is so excited,” I lament. “And that will just make my parents want to meet him over winter break. Oliver says Christmas is important to his family, so he won’t be available.”
“That sounds like a perfect answer to your problems!” Celeste interjects. “Just tell them you and Oliver broke up after Thanksgiving.”
“Then they’ll try to set me up with a stranger again by Christmas!”
“Jude, you have to stand up for yourself,” Max insists. “Tell them you don’t want that.”
“And risk losing my financial aid? I can’t!”
Celeste lets out a frustrated groan. “Then just dissociate during the matchmaking and be honest with whoever they try to set you up with! There is no easy solution here.”
I rake my fingers through my hair, scraping my scalp with my nails. “Maybe Thanksgiving with Oliver won’t be so bad.”
Max and Celeste stare at me with varying degrees of sympathy and concern.
“Jude, honey,” Max says softly. “He’s ace. If you fall in love with him—”
I feign annoyance at the accusation. “I’m not going to fall—”
“I think that ship has sailed,” Celeste mutters.
My stomach sinks. Am I really that transparent? I guess the Halloween party fiasco and dumping Nikki right after kind of gave me away.
“I still can’t get over the fact that you want to play into your parents’ fucked up expectations,” Celeste continues. “Why would you give them what they want?”
“Because it will work. Oliver’s the perfect fake boyfriend, and nothing between us has to change. It’s the perfect way to keep my parents happy for five more years—”
“You really think you can keep this up with Oliver for five years?” Max asks.
“Yeah, he’s my best friend.”
Max’s frown deepens, but he doesn’t respond.
We sit in silence for several long seconds before Celeste speaks. “We love you, Jude. We hate seeing you get hurt.”
I shake my head. “Oliver would never hurt me.”
“Not intentionally,” Max says. “But he can’t change who he is.”
“I would never want him to,” I insist. “He’s perfect exactly the way he is.”
We’re all quiet again for several moments. Eventually, Celeste places her hand on my shoulder. “Do whatever you need to do. We’re here to support you, no matter what happens.”
Max nods. “Always, honey.”
I try not to cry as they pull me into a group hug. “Thank you.”
Max sniffles as we pull away. “Just keep us posted on everything, okay? Especially if they force you into a ‘only one bed’ scenario. Those tropes usually go hand in hand.”
“Jesus,” Celeste mutters.