Chapter 35 - Too Nervous ♡︎

The living room glowed with the soft, cozy light of the Christmas tree, the faint scent of cinnamon and pine drifting through the air. Someone had dimmed the lamps, leaving the room awash in twinkling color—gold, green, red, and silver reflecting off the ornaments that dangled from every branch. Blankets were piled high on the couches, a mess of textures and colors that looked both chaotic and perfect at the same time. Skylar was kneeling by the TV stand, untangling cords with a determined look on her face, while Grace rummaged through a stack of holiday movie DVDs like she was selecting something sacred. Jackie hovered beside her, tossing out suggestions every few seconds—Elf, The Santa Clause, Love Actually—while Grace dramatically vetoed each one until she found something "iconic enough for a last-night movie."

Olive sat on the couch, her legs tucked beneath a thick plaid blanket, but her mind wasn't anywhere near the conversation. The room was buzzing with laughter and movement, but all she could feel was the ghost of warmth still lingering on her skin from the hot tub, the memory looping over and over in her head. Cole's hands, gentle and sure. The way his voice had dropped when he'd said her name. The way the world had seemed to vanish the moment he leaned in.

Her cheeks warmed again just thinking about it. She told herself to focus on the TV, on the noise around her, anything to stop her heart from speeding up every time the thought replayed. But it was useless. Every time she blinked, she saw him again—the steam rising, the faint reflection of Christmas lights on the water, the way he'd looked at her afterward, not like he regretted stopping but like he was quietly proud of himself for not pushing her further.

She tried to steady her breathing and shifted slightly under the blanket, glancing toward him before she could stop herself. Cole was sitting right beside her, just close enough that his arm brushed hers when he reached for his drink. He was talking with Alex, who was teasing him about something—probably the snowball fight earlier, or maybe the way Grace had caught him nearly tripping on the back steps—but Olive barely registered the words. Cole's laugh was easy and low, and when he turned his head toward her for a moment, it felt like the air in her lungs forgot how to move.

He didn't say anything, didn't even need to. Just one look from him was enough to remind her of everything that had happened in the hot tub—the closeness, the heat, the quiet, dizzying feeling of being wanted. Olive quickly looked away, pretending to fix the blanket over her lap as if that could disguise the blush spreading across her face.

Jackie walked past the couch then, balancing a bowl of popcorn almost too full to carry. "Okay, so Grace is apparently the only person alive who doesn't think Elf is a classic," she said with a grin, rolling her eyes. "We might be here all night."

Grace, from across the room, called back, "We're not watching Elf! I want something romantic and Christmassy. Like The Holiday!"

Jackie plopped down on the armchair beside the couch. "You mean the one that makes everyone cry?"

"Exactly," Grace said cheerfully.

Olive smiled faintly, grateful for the distraction, though her thoughts were still tangled. Cole leaned closer just then, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "You okay?"

She glanced at him, startled by how close he was. "Y–yeah," she said quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm fine. Just tired, I guess."

He smirked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You sure? You've been quiet. I can practically hear you thinking."

Olive hesitated, her lips parting slightly before she decided against saying what was really on her mind. "Just... long day," she said instead, her tone shy.

Cole nodded, his expression knowing but kind. "Mhm," he said, leaning back again, though his shoulder still brushed hers lightly. "If you say so."

The warmth that spread through her chest wasn't just from the blanket anymore. She stared down at the bowl of popcorn Grace had just handed her, pretending to focus on it while her thoughts spun in circles. Every time Cole moved, every time his voice dipped low, her heart reacted like it was trying to remind her of everything she was trying not to think about.

The others were still bustling around—Skylar fixing the sound, Grace finally settling on The Holiday, Nathan joking that he'd probably fall asleep halfway through—but Olive barely noticed. When the lights finally dimmed and everyone settled into their spots, Cole shifted slightly, draping part of the blanket over both of their legs without saying a word. It was such a small gesture, simple and quiet, but it made Olive's breath catch again.

She stared at the TV as the opening credits began to play, pretending to pay attention, but her heart was far too loud in her chest. She could feel every inch of awareness between them—his warmth beside her, the faint smell of his cologne, the steady rhythm of his breathing.___

The living room had settled into that familiar hush that came after the first half-hour of a movie—when the popcorn bowls were half-empty, the lights from the tree cast warm patterns across everyone's faces, and the only sounds were soft laughter or the occasional sniffle from Grace, who was already emotionally invested in The Holiday. The fire in the corner crackled softly, throwing little sparks of orange light across the floor. The whole room felt like a postcard version of Christmas—cozy, glowing, safe.

Olive sat still beneath the shared blanket, trying her best to focus on the screen. She kept telling herself to breathe normally, to look casual, to act like her heart wasn't beating faster than the background music playing from the TV. Cole was sitting so close that she could feel the steady warmth radiating from him, their legs touching slightly under the blanket. Every so often, he shifted—his hand brushing her arm, his shoulder pressing lightly against hers—and every tiny bit of contact sent a new wave of nervous electricity rushing through her.

She didn't know when it happened exactly, but at some point, Cole's arm came around her shoulders. It wasn't abrupt or obvious. He moved slowly, like he was testing the moment, gauging her reaction before committing. One second, his arm was just resting behind her, and the next, it was around her, pulling her gently against his side. Olive froze. Her whole body stiffened before she even realized it, her breath catching slightly in her throat.

Cole glanced down at her, his expression calm, maybe even a little amused. "Relax," he whispered, the word soft enough that it barely broke the quiet hum of the movie.

Olive tried to smile, to pretend she wasn't seconds away from combusting from sheer nervous energy. "I am," she whispered back, though her voice came out too quick, too light.

He chuckled under his breath, the sound low and easy. "You're not," he murmured, his breath brushing the side of her temple. "You're sitting like you're waiting for a pop quiz."

Her cheeks flushed instantly. "I just—uh—I don't usually... cuddle," she whispered, the words tumbling awkwardly out before she could stop them.

Cole's arm tightened slightly, steady and patient. "That's okay," he said softly. "You don't have to."

The kindness in his voice made Olive's stomach twist in that fluttery, dizzy way again. She hesitated, her hands gripping the blanket tightly for a moment before she let out a slow breath and allowed herself to lean into him—just barely. The side of her head rested against his shoulder, her hair brushing his shirt, and the closeness made her chest feel too small for all the air she was trying to breathe.

Around them, everyone else seemed completely absorbed in the movie. Jackie and Grace whispered back and forth about Jude Law's character, Skylar had fallen half-asleep with a pillow tucked under his chin, and Nathan occasionally threw popcorn at Alex whenever he laughed too loud. It was the kind of comfortable noise that should have made Olive feel at ease. But she couldn't focus.

She could hear Cole's heartbeat when she leaned close enough, slow and steady against her ear. His fingers absentmindedly brushed against her arm through the blanket, just small movements, nothing deliberate—but every touch made her pulse race faster. She wanted to relax, to sink into the warmth, to stop overthinking every tiny thing, but it was like her mind wouldn't let her.

After a few minutes of trying—and failing—to act normal, she felt Cole shift slightly beside her. He leaned in closer, his voice a whisper just for her. "Hey," he said quietly. "You sure you're okay?"

Olive's eyes flicked up to meet his. Even in the dim light, his expression was soft, concerned. He wasn't teasing now; he was actually checking in.

She nodded quickly, offering a tiny smile. "Yeah," she whispered back. "I'm fine."

Cole searched her face for a second longer, as if trying to decide whether to believe her. Then he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod and leaned back again, his arm still around her but looser now—less of a pull, more of a quiet promise that she could move away anytime she wanted.

For the rest of the movie, neither of them spoke. Every now and then, Cole's thumb brushed lightly against her arm again, a quiet, absentminded movement that made her heart stutter each time. And though Olive couldn't stop the nerves from fluttering in her chest, she didn't pull away.

By the time the movie reached its happy ending, Grace was sniffling loudly into a pillow, Jackie was laughing at her, and someone had started gathering empty mugs of cocoa from the coffee table. The spell of the movie began to fade, replaced by the sound of everyone talking again. ___

Outside, snow had begun to fall again, soft and slow, turning the world into a muted wash of white. It was late—past midnight—and the house had that dreamy, comfortable quiet that only came after hours of laughter and warmth.

Grace was the first to stir, stretching and yawning dramatically before sitting up. "Okay," she said, groaning a little. "As much as I love you all, I need my bed before I pass out on this floor."

Skylar laughed from where he was collecting empty cups near the fireplace. "I don't think my parents would be too thrilled if I woke up to a pile of bodies in the living room anyway," he joked, though her tone was fond.

One by one, everyone began to rise, stretching and murmuring tired goodbyes. Grace hugged Skylar tight, thanking him for hosting "the most chaotic but perfect Christmas party ever." Jackie followed, wrapping her in a quick squeeze and promising to text her tomorrow about something funny that had happened earlier. Alex helped Skylar carry some leftover plates to the kitchen before grabbing his coat, and Nathan stayed behind, insisting he'd help him clean up since he "owed him one" after spilling cocoa earlier in the night when in reality he just wanted time with his boyfriend.

Cole lingered near the door, sliding his jacket on, his hair still slightly damp from the hot tub hours ago. He was quiet, which wasn't unusual, but Olive noticed. She stood beside him, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her scarf, unsure what to say. The memories of the night—of the intense kiss in the hot tub, the way he'd held her during the movie—played on a loop in her mind, leaving her tangled and flustered.

When everyone was finally ready to leave, Skylar hugged Olive last, her voice soft. "Thanks for coming, Olive. It wouldn't have been the same without you."

Olive smiled, the warmth in Skylar's tone easing some of the tension that had been building in her chest. "Thanks for inviting me," she said sincerely. "It was... really fun."

As they stepped outside, the cold hit instantly. The night air was sharp and crisp, the snow crunching softly under their boots. The car headlights painted the driveway in pale gold, and Olive could see their breath rising in the dark as they made their way toward the car. Cole clicked the unlock button, the sound echoing in the quiet, and everyone piled in—Jackie and Olive in the backseat this time, Cole driving, and Alex in the passenger seat.

For the first few minutes of the drive, no one said much. The roads were nearly empty, blanketed in snow that glittered faintly under the streetlights. The hum of the heater filled the silence, and the faint strains of Christmas music played quietly from the radio. Alex was scrolling through his phone, half-mumbling to Cole about directions even though Cole clearly knew where they were going. Jackie was humming softly under her breath, her head tilted back against the seat. And Olive... Olive just stared out the window.

The world outside passed in a blur—soft white fields, dark tree lines, the occasional house glowing with Christmas lights. But Olive barely saw any of it. Her mind was too full, her thoughts looping over everything that had happened that night. The way Cole had kissed her. The way her heart had raced. The way she'd had to tell him to stop because it was all too much, too soon to make out. And then, the way he hadn't gotten mad or distant, just... gentle. Understanding. That was what kept replaying most of all. His voice when he'd said it was okay.

"Hey," Jackie's voice broke through the quiet. Olive blinked, realizing her best friend was turned halfway in her seat, looking at her with that familiar, protective expression that was half curiosity and half concern. "You okay, Ollie?" she asked softly, her tone warm—more like a big sister than just a friend.

Olive blinked again, then forced a small smile. "Yeah," she said quietly, pulling the blanket tighter around her lap. "Just tired."

Jackie tilted her head, not quite convinced but too kind to press. "Alright," she said finally, her smile gentle. "You know you can talk to me, right? About anything."

Olive nodded, her throat tight. "I know," she murmured, and she meant it. But she didn't have the words right now. Not yet.

Jackie gave her hand a quick squeeze before turning back around, humming along to the radio again. The car fell silent once more, except for the steady rhythm of tires against snow and the low hum of the heater. Olive exhaled slowly, trying to calm the jumble of feelings pressing in her chest. She rested her forehead lightly against the cold window, watching the snowflakes streak past in the glow of the headlights.

Cole glanced at her in the rearview mirror. He didn't say anything, didn't even fully turn his head, but she could feel it—the weight of his gaze, the quiet concern behind it. He knew something was off. He always did.

For a brief second, their eyes met in the reflection. His expression was soft, unreadable, but full of quiet understanding. And Olive looked away quickly, her heart giving a tiny, traitorous flutter.

The rest of the drive was quiet, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Just quiet in that way where words weren't needed, where the night itself seemed to hum with something unspoken.