Chapter 11 – Ellie
The bathroom is colder than the hallway.
I push the door open with my shoulder, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly above me. The air smells like cheap lavender soap and the sharp bite of disinfectant — too clean, too bright, too quiet. I just need a second. A breath. A place where no one is looking at me.
I slip into the far stall, lock it, and press my back against the metal door. My heartbeat is still a little too fast from rushing across campus. I close my eyes and inhale slowly, letting the silence settle around me.
But then… The silence breaks.
A voice — soft, annoyed, familiar — drifts in from the sinks.
Francesca.
“I’m telling you, Josh, she’s clueless,” she says, her tone sharp in a way I’ve never heard from her. “You just have to push a little more. They’re already cracking.”
My breath catches.
I freeze, hand hovering over the toilet paper dispenser.
Francesca lowers her voice, but the bathroom echoes everything. “No, listen — if we separate them now, it’ll be easier. She doesn’t even love him. You said that yourself.”
My stomach drops.
Separate… who?
I lean forward just slightly, careful not to make a sound. My pulse thuds in my ears, loud enough that I’m scared she’ll hear it.
Josh’s name hits me again like a slap.
Josh. Francesca. Separating a couple.
My mind flashes back to Oliver’s voice the other night — the conversation he had with Josh, the weird tension he didn’t want to talk about. The way Josh brushed it off like nothing.
A cold feeling spreads through my chest.
Francesca sighs. “Just trust me. We’ll handle it. You’ll get what you want.”
What he wants?
My fingers tremble.
I don’t know who they’re talking about. I don’t know what they’re planning. But every instinct in me whispers the same thing:
Something is wrong.
The faucet turns on. Water rushes. A paper towel crinkles. Then the bathroom door swings open, and her footsteps fade down the hall.
I stay frozen for a moment, staring at the stall door like it might tell me what to do.
Should I tell Oliver? Would he even believe me? Would I sound dramatic? Wrong? Crazy?
I swallow hard.
I don’t know.
Not yet.
But the weird feeling in my chest doesn’t go away.
It grows.
By the time I slip into my next class, my hands still feel cold.
I sit near the window, hoping the sunlight will warm me up, but it doesn’t. My mind keeps replaying the same words over and over — Francesca’s voice echoing in that too-bright bathroom.
“If we separate them now, it’ll be easier.”
“You’ll get what you want.”
I try to focus on the lecture, but the professor’s voice sounds like it’s underwater. My pen hovers over my notebook, unmoving. Everyone around me is taking notes, flipping pages, whispering quietly.
And I’m just… stuck.
My stomach twists every time I think about Josh’s name in that conversation.
Josh.
The goofy, harmless, always-smiling Josh.
Why would he be involved in something like that?
And who were they talking about?
A couple?
I swallow hard.
I shouldn’t assume anything. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. But the weird feeling in my chest won’t go away.
When class finally ends, I pack my things slowly, hoping the uneasiness will fade if I move gently enough. It doesn’t.
The hallway is loud and crowded, but somehow, I feel like I’m walking through fog. My thoughts are too loud, too tangled.
Then I see him.
Oliver.
He’s leaning against the wall outside my classroom, hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly like he’s been waiting. The moment his eyes meet mine, something in my chest loosens — just a little.
His expression softens instantly. “Hey,” he says, voice soft, warm.
I try to smile, but it feels shaky. “Hi.”
Before he can say anything else, someone appears beside him.
Josh.
Of course.
He’s grinning, bouncing on his heels like always, acting like the world is sunshine and jokes and nothing else.
“Ellie, Oliver!” he says, waving dramatically.
My stomach tightens.
He has no idea I heard anything. He has no idea I’m looking at him differently now. He has no idea something feels… off.
I force a small smile. “Hey.”
Josh laughs at something Oliver says — something I don’t even catch — and for a moment, I just watch him. The way he talks. The way he gestures. The way he pretends everything is normal.
And the whole time, Francesca’s voice echoes in my head.
“You’ll get what you want.”
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry.
Josh eventually checks his phone. “Alright, I gotta run. See you guys tomorrow!”
He gives us a playful salute and disappears into the crowd.
The second he’s gone, the hallway feels quieter.
Oliver looks at me, eyebrows pulling together. “You okay?”
I nod too quickly. “Yeah. Just… tired.”
He studies me for a moment, like he can see the truth hiding behind my eyes. Then he steps a little closer, lowering his voice.
“C’mon let’s skip class,” he says softly. “Let me take you somewhere I’m sure you’ll love.”
My breath catches.
The tension in my chest loosens — not completely, but enough to breathe again.
“Where?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
He smiles — that soft, gentle smile that makes everything feel lighter.
“You’ll see, beautiful.”
Beautiful.
The word lands in my chest like a warm hand pressing gently over my heart.
He says it so casually, like it’s the most natural thing in the world — like calling me beautiful is just… part of the way he breathes. And every time he says it, something inside me melts a little more.
I look up at him, and he’s already watching me with that soft, steady gaze that makes everything else fade. My cheeks warm instantly, and I have to look away for a second just to breathe.
Oliver always calls me beautiful. Not in a loud way. Not in a show-off way. Just… softly. Like he means it. Like he sees something in me I’m still learning to see in myself.
And God, it warms my heart every single time.
His lips curve into the gentlest smile — the kind that makes my stomach flutter — and for a moment, the weird feeling from earlier fades into the background.
Oliver walks me to the parking lot, our shoulders brushing every few steps. Every time we get close, my heart does that stupid little flip it always does around him. I try to hide it, but I’m pretty sure he notices — he always notices.
He opens the passenger door for me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Hop in, beautiful.”
There it is again.
That word.
Soft.
Effortless.
Like he doesn’t even think twice before saying it.
I slide into the seat, and the moment the door closes, the world outside feels quieter. Safer. Warmer.
Oliver gets in on his side, starts the engine, and the soft hum of the car fills the silence. He glances at me before pulling out of the parking spot — that small, gentle glance he always gives me, like he’s checking if I’m okay without actually asking.
As we drive, the sun dips lower, painting the sky in soft golds and pinks. The windows are cracked open just enough for the breeze to slip in, warm and sweet, carrying the smell of pine and summer grass.
Oliver taps the steering wheel lightly with his fingers, matching the rhythm of the music playing — something soft, something slow, something that makes the whole car feel like a warm blanket.
I watch him for a moment — the way his jaw relaxes, the way his eyes soften when he looks at the road, the way the sunset reflects off his skin. He looks peaceful. He looks… happy.
And that makes me feel something I can’t quite name.
He glances at me again, catching me staring. A tiny smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“What?” he asks, voice teasing but gentle.
“Nothing,” I say quickly, looking out the window even though my cheeks are burning.
He laughs under his breath — that soft, warm laugh that makes my stomach flutter.
The road curves, leading us out of town and toward the trees. The air gets cooler, the sky brighter, the world quieter. I can feel the tension from earlier slowly slipping off my shoulders, piece by piece.
With Oliver, everything feels like a movie.
A romance movie.
He reaches over and rests his hand on the center console, palm up — not grabbing mine, not forcing anything — just offering.
My heart stumbles.
I place my hand in his.
His fingers curl around mine instantly, warm and steady, like he’s been waiting for this exact moment.
“Almost there,” he says softly.
The trees open up before I even realize we’ve reached the edge of town. The road curves one last time, and suddenly the world widens — the lake stretching out in front of us like a sheet of glass catching the last colors of the sky.
Soft pinks.
Warm golds.
A little lavender melting into the horizon.
It’s beautiful.
Almost unreal.
Oliver slows the car, pulling into a small gravel clearing shaded by tall pines. The engine quiets, and for a moment, all I hear is the soft ticking of the cooling hood and the distant sound of water brushing against the shore.
He turns to me, that gentle smile already forming. “We’re here.”
My heart does that stupid flutter again.
I open the door, and the air hits me — cool, fresh, smelling like pine and lake water and something sweet I can’t name. The breeze lifts my hair, brushing it across my cheek, and I tuck it behind my ear as I take in the view.
The lake glows under the fading sun, ripples catching the light like tiny diamonds. Ducks float lazily near the shore, dipping their heads into the water. The grass is soft and wild, swaying gently with the wind.
It feels like stepping into a dream.
Oliver walks around the car and stops beside me. He doesn’t say anything at first — he just watches my face, like my reaction is the view he brought me here to see.
“You like it?” he asks softly.
I nod, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face. “It’s… beautiful.”
He looks at me for a second too long. Then, quietly — almost under his breath — he says:
“So are you.”