Chapter 17 - You're Perfect ♡︎

Jackie's room was scattered with fabric and shimmer, as though someone had opened a treasure chest and spilled its contents across the bed. Each dress was carefully laid out on the quilt, not just as outfits but as pieces of memory, the kind Jackie guarded carefully because they had been made by her late mother. Every thread, every seam, carried a part of her mother's artistry, and it showed. The dresses didn't look like something store-bought or mass-produced; they looked like magic carefully woven into fabric.

Olive stood near the bed with her hands clasped together, staring down at them like she was too afraid to even touch them. Her wide brown eyes flickered over each one—there was a deep emerald satin dress with a sweetheart neckline, a flowing blush chiffon that seemed to float even while resting still, and a striking midnight blue gown that shimmered faintly in the light of Jackie's lamp.

Jackie stood tall at the foot of the bed, her sharp eyes narrowing as though she were assessing Olive as a canvas and deciding which piece of art would suit her best. She wasn't just tossing a dress at Olive and telling her to wear it. This was her mother's work, her mother's legacy, and Jackie wanted Olive to feel the importance of it.

"Every single one of these was hand-stitched," Jackie said quietly, her tone softened in a way Olive rarely heard from her. "She put her heart into them, and she always told me dresses weren't about the fabric—they were about the person wearing them. The dress only shines if the person believes in themselves." Jackie's eyes flicked up to Olive's, and though her voice was firm, her gaze was gentle. "So, don't say you can't wear one of these. You can. You just need to decide which one feels like you."

Olive shifted nervously, her fingers twisting together as she shook her head a little. "I... I don't know if I can make something like this look good," she whispered, her voice small and shaky. She looked almost guilty, like she was unworthy of the dresses, as if she'd ruin them just by putting them on.

Grace, who had been lounging in Jackie's desk chair spinning lazily from side to side, suddenly jumped up with an exaggerated groan. "Oh my god, Olive, are you kidding me? You could wear a potato sack and still look adorable. But in these?" She gestured dramatically to the bed. "You're going to make everyone at that dance completely lose their minds." She grabbed the blush chiffon dress and held it up under Olive's chin with a mischievous grin. "This one screams first dance. It's soft, it's sweet, it's you."

Olive's cheeks turned pink at Grace's words, her lips parting like she wanted to argue but couldn't find the words. The fabric of the dress was light against her skin, and she imagined herself walking into a room full of strangers in it, imagined everyone's eyes on her. The thought made her stomach tighten and her hands tremble. "I... I don't know if I could pull it off," she stammered, glancing away quickly, her gaze finding safety in the carpet instead of their faces.

Jackie sighed, setting down the midnight blue gown she had been holding. She walked closer to Olive and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Ollie, listen. You've been through so much change lately—new house, new school, new people everywhere. But this dance isn't about everyone else. It's about you feeling like you belong. And you do."

Her words were firm, resolute, the kind of truth Jackie always carried in her tone. "My mom would've wanted these dresses to be worn, not just tucked away in a closet. And I want one of them to be worn by you tonight. You're my best friend, and you deserve to feel beautiful."

Olive blinked up at her, her eyes glassy with emotion, and for a moment she couldn't find her voice. Grace, of course, broke the heavy moment with her usual dramatic flair. "And let's be real—Cole is going to die when he sees you."

At the mention of his name, Olive's entire face flushed crimson. She ducked her head and fiddled nervously with her sleeves, her heart racing at the thought. She didn't even want to admit that part of her was curious—what would Cole say if he saw her in one of these dresses?

Jackie rolled her eyes at Grace's comment, but Olive had already gone silent, caught up in her own thoughts, her blush giving her away completely. Jackie picked up the blush chiffon again and handed it carefully to Olive. "Start with this one," she said, her voice soft but insistent. "It'll feel the most comfortable, and I think it's perfect for you. Try it on. Trust me."

Olive hesitated, her fingers brushing the smooth fabric as though it were fragile glass, but finally nodded shyly. "Okay," she whispered, her heart pounding in her chest as she slipped toward Jackie's bathroom to change.

The bathroom door creaked open slowly, and Olive stepped out with hesitant, tiny movements, almost as though she were afraid she might trip over her own feet. The blush chiffon dress draped down her figure in a way that made her look softer, more delicate than she already was. The fabric caught the light, glowing faintly as it swayed with each cautious step she took into Jackie's room. Her hands fidgeted at her sides, and her head stayed lowered, too nervous to meet the eyes of her friends. But when she finally glanced up through her lashes, Grace let out a dramatic gasp so loud it made Olive freeze in her tracks.

"Oh my god! You look gorgeous!" Grace exclaimed, clasping her hands together as though she were about to faint. She darted forward, circling Olive like she was inspecting a work of art in a museum. "I knew it! I knew this was the one! Jackie, are you seeing this?!" Grace reached out and lightly fluffed the chiffon layers, her grin growing wider by the second. "Olive, you look like you just stepped out of a fairytale. People are going to lose it when you walk in tonight."

Jackie, though far less dramatic than Grace, stood by the bed with her arms crossed, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. Her eyes softened as she took in the sight of Olive, the way the dress framed her shoulders, the way the color seemed to bring out a natural glow in her skin. For a moment, Jackie didn't see the shy, timid girl who always fidgeted with her sleeves or lowered her gaze—she saw someone beginning to bloom. "You really do look beautiful," Jackie said sincerely, her tone quieter but no less powerful. "Mom would have loved to see this."

Olive's cheeks flushed a deep pink that matched the dress, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. "R-really?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. Compliments were hard for her to accept, and hearing both of them say it so directly made her heart race. She didn't feel beautiful—she felt like a girl trying too hard to fit into a world that wasn't hers. But seeing Grace's excitement and Jackie's soft smile made her want to believe it, even if just for tonight.

Grace clapped her hands together like an impatient director. "Okay, okay, enough staring. We've got work to do! The dance isn't going to wait for us." She grabbed Jackie's arm and dragged her toward the vanity while Jackie shot her an exasperated look. Soon enough, the room was filled with the sound of laughter, chatter, and the clinking of makeup brushes against palettes as Grace and Jackie began to get ready themselves.

Jackie slipped into a sleek, form-fitting dress of her own, a dark red number that had boldness written all over it, while Grace opted for a playful, glittering silver dress that shimmered with every move. They teased each other about shoes, accessories, and who would get the most stares, filling the room with warmth and excitement. Olive sat quietly on the edge of the bed, watching them in awe, her fingers brushing against the chiffon of her own dress, still feeling out of place but slowly easing into the energy around her.

When Jackie and Grace were both mostly ready, Jackie turned her focus back to Olive. "Alright, your turn," she said firmly, pulling out her makeup bag and motioning for Olive to sit at the desk chair. Olive obeyed shyly, clutching the skirt of her dress as she sat down, her heart hammering in her chest. She had never really worn makeup before, not more than lip balm or the occasional swipe of mascara, so the thought of Jackie painting her face for the dance was almost overwhelming.

Jackie worked with steady, practiced hands, brushing light foundation across Olive's skin, adding a soft pink flush to her cheeks, and dusting just a hint of shimmer across her eyelids. She kept it subtle—nothing that would make Olive feel hidden beneath layers, but enough to highlight her natural features. "You don't need much," Jackie said softly as she leaned back to inspect her work. "You're already pretty without it. This is just... a little extra."

Grace, of course, stood behind Jackie, bouncing on her toes as she observed like an overexcited cheerleader. "She looks adorable! Honestly, if Cole doesn't faint tonight, I'll lose all respect for him."

Olive's face turned crimson at the mention of Cole again, and she quickly ducked her head to hide her blush. Jackie rolled her eyes at Grace's teasing but didn't argue.

Once Olive's makeup was finished and her hair brushed into soft waves, the three of them stood together in front of Jackie's mirror, looking like a trio of sisters ready to take on the night. Grace linked arms with both of them, beaming. "We're going to light up that dance floor."

Just then, a knock sounded on the door, followed by Katherine's warm but firm voice calling up the stairs. "Girls? Are you ready? The guys and George are waiting for you downstairs."

Jackie exchanged a quick look with Olive and Grace, then smiled faintly. "Showtime."___

Downstairs, the Walters' usually chaotic living room had been transformed into a runway of sorts. Nathan tugged at the cuffs of his suit jacket, looking uncomfortable but handsome, his hair pushed back neatly. Skylar, standing confidently at his side with Nathan's hand in his, adjusted his tie with ease—he looked like he'd been born for nights like this. Danny leaned casually against the banister, smirking as he straightened his bow tie, while Isaac and Jordan, their cousin duo, were already mock-punching each other in the arm and arguing about who looked better in their suits. George, sitting back in one of the worn leather chairs, looked over them all with quiet pride and the occasional chuckle, shaking his head at how grown-up his boys looked tonight.

And then, there was Cole. Standing a little apart from the others, his posture relaxed but his presence commanding, he looked sharp in a dark suit tailored to his broad shoulders and long frame. His green eyes were sharper than usual, his hair just slightly mussed in that effortless way only Cole could pull off. He had his hands tucked in his pockets, as though he wasn't trying, but every single person in the room knew Cole Walter in a suit was a dangerous sight.

The sound of heels clicking against the stairs pulled everyone's attention upward. Jackie descended first, her deep red dress catching the light as she moved with a natural grace. Alex, who had just joined them, immediately whistled and rushed to meet her at the bottom of the staircase, kissing her cheek as the others clapped and teased. Grace followed right behind, sparkling in silver, twirling dramatically just to make sure everyone saw her glitter under the light. The boys erupted in playful cheers, teasing both girls about how they were going to make everyone at the dance jealous.

But when the laughter died down and the room settled, all eyes drifted back to the top of the stairs. They were waiting. Waiting for the last girl to appear.

Olive.

She stood just beyond the curve of the stairwell, out of sight, clutching at the chiffon skirt of her blush dress with trembling fingers. Her heart raced like a drum in her chest, the idea of walking down into a room filled with the Walter boys in sharp suits making her want to melt into the floorboards. She peeked down the staircase, saw how everyone's heads were turned expectantly, and quickly retreated, pressing her back against the wall.

"I-I can't," she whispered to herself, her voice trembling.

The seconds ticked by, stretching into minutes. The murmurs downstairs grew louder. Grace called up teasingly, "Olive! Don't leave us hanging!" Jackie frowned, glancing back up the stairs, worried. But Olive's feet remained frozen to the carpet, her body refusing to move.

Finally, a sigh broke through the room, and heavy footsteps started up the stairs. Cole.

"Come on, tiny," his voice carried casually up the staircase, though there was a gentleness in it that wasn't lost on Jackie or Grace. "You can't possibly look that bad if you're taking this long." His tone was teasing, but as he reached the top step and turned the corner, his words faltered into silence.

His eyes landed on her.

For a split second, Cole forgot how to breathe. Olive stood there, head bowed slightly, her hair falling in soft waves around her face, the blush chiffon hugging her frame in the most delicate way. She looked like something out of a dream, almost too fragile, too ethereal for the world around her. Her big eyes peeked up at him nervously, catching the way his lips parted ever so slightly, the sharp inhale he couldn't suppress.

Olive whimpered softly, her voice breaking in the quiet space between them. "I-I don't think I can go down there," she admitted, her cheeks burning hot. She fiddled with her sleeves as though she could hide herself in the fabric, her whole body language screaming that she wanted to disappear.

Cole blinked slowly, regaining himself, though his chest still felt tight. He leaned against the banister casually, but the green in his eyes was burning. "Are you kidding me, tiny?" he said softly, his usual smirk tugging at his lips, but it was softer than usual. "You're... you're perfect." The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Olive's breath caught, her face flooding red as she stumbled over her words. "N-no... I'm not... I-I look silly—"

"Sil—" Cole cut her off with a low laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "Tiny, if you saw yourself right now the way I see you, you wouldn't be hiding up here." His voice dropped quieter, rougher, almost as though it was only meant for her.

She blinked up at him, her eyes wide and watery from nerves, and for a long moment neither of them moved. It was Cole who finally reached out, holding his hand out to her palm-up, patient, steady. "Come on, Tiny," he murmured. "I've got you."

Olive hesitated, fidgeting, but slowly her trembling hand slipped into his, small and soft against his calloused palm. Cole's fingers curled around hers, anchoring her as though the rest of the world downstairs didn't matter.