Chapter 21 - Don't Go ♡︎

The night had finally begun to slow, the music fading behind Olive as she stepped out into the crisp night air. Her heels clicked softly against the pavement while the laughter from the gym echoed faintly in the distance. The cool breeze brushed against her skin, carrying the faint scent of bonfire smoke and cheap perfume from the dance. Grace and Skylar walked beside her, both chatting animatedly about the night—about the decorations, the songs, and who danced with who. Olive smiled politely, though her mind kept drifting elsewhere—to Cole, to the fight, to the way he'd looked at her before leaving with Jackie and Alex.

When they finally reached the Walters' truck parked by the curb, Danny and Isaac were already waiting, leaning against the side and talking quietly. "Took you girls long enough," Danny teased, pushing off the truck as they approached.

"Sorry," Grace said with a grin. "Some of us were busy having a good time."

Isaac smirked. "Yeah, sure. You just didn't want to leave before the last slow song."

Grace gasped in mock offense. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said dramatically, tossing her hair. Olive giggled softly at their banter, her nerves finally starting to fade.

The drive back to the Walter house was calm. The radio hummed softly, and Olive sat between Grace and Skylar in the backseat, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The others talked lightly about the dance, about classes next week, and about how Dylan was probably going to have a black eye from Cole tomorrow. Olive tried not to think about that part, her stomach twisting slightly every time someone mentioned it.

When they arrived home, the big house was quiet and dark, the warm porch light casting a glow over the front steps. Everyone seemed a little tired now, the adrenaline from the night fading into drowsy smiles and yawns.

"Thanks for the ride," Grace said as they climbed out of the truck.

"Yeah, thanks," Skylar added, stretching. "I needed tonight. It was actually fun."

Olive smiled shyly and nodded. "Me too," she said softly. "Thank you both... for staying with me."

Grace turned to her and pulled Olive into a hug. "Of course, Olive. You were amazing tonight. I'm proud of you."

Olive blinked in surprise but hugged her back, warmth spreading through her chest. "Thank you," she whispered, her cheeks pink.

After saying their goodnights, Grace and Skylar headed toward their cars to drive home, leaving Olive standing by the door with the Walter boys. Danny, Isaac, Jordan, and Nathan all mumbled tired goodnights as they trudged upstairs, their suits wrinkled and ties loosened. The house fell quiet again, only the soft hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock filling the space.

Olive stood in the kitchen for a moment, her hands resting on the counter as she exhaled deeply. The night had been so full—of dancing, laughter, nerves, and emotions she didn't fully understand. She smiled faintly, thinking about how she'd actually danced with Cole earlier. How he'd looked at her under the lights, how close they'd been. Her heart gave a nervous flutter at the memory.

"Get a grip, Olive," she whispered to herself, shaking her head lightly. She started to head upstairs, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood, when suddenly—

"Tiny."

Olive jumped, letting out a small squeak as she nearly dropped her clutch. Her wide eyes darted up—and there he was. Cole.

He was leaning against the doorway to the living room, his hands shoved casually into the pockets of his dark suit pants. His jacket was off, his shirt slightly unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His green eyes caught the soft glow of the kitchen light, and his hair was slightly messy, like he'd been running his hands through it all night.

"C-Cole?" Olive stammered, her hand pressed to her chest as her heartbeat raced. "You scared me."

He smirked, clearly amused. "Didn't mean to, tiny. You just looked lost in thought."

"I—I wasn't," Olive said quickly, her cheeks burning. "I was just... thinking about... um..." She fidgeted, realizing she had no idea how to finish that sentence.

Cole raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by her nervousness. "About what?" he asked, stepping closer, his tone teasing but softer than usual.

Olive took a step back instinctively, bumping lightly against the kitchen island. "Just... tonight," she murmured. "It was... nice."

He studied her face for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded slightly. "You did good out there," he said quietly. "You looked like you actually had fun for once."

Olive smiled faintly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I did," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you... for asking me to dance."

Cole's smirk softened into something warmer, more genuine. "Anytime, tiny."

There was a small pause—quiet but charged with unspoken things. Olive looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the edge of her clutch. "Um... I should probably go upstairs," she said softly. "It's late."

Cole nodded slowly but didn't move aside right away. "Yeah," he said, his voice low. "Get some rest."

As Olive slipped past him to head up the stairs, she could feel his gaze following her—steady, quiet, thoughtful.___

Olive stood in front of her dresser, brushing out her hair with soft, tired motions. Her pastel pajamas — the ones patterned with tiny white bunnies — made her look more like a child playing pretend than a college student who'd just been to her first dance. Her cheeks still held the faintest trace of blush from the night, and the memory of Cole and Dylan arguing kept looping in her mind like a song she couldn't turn off.

She was halfway through turning down her blankets when a sudden creak from behind made her jump. Her head snapped toward the door — and there he was.

Cole leaned against her doorframe, his dark suit jacket gone, shirt sleeves rolled up, and that same unreadable look on his face.

"Cole!" Olive squeaked, clutching her blanket to her chest. "What are you doing here? You can't just—"

"Shh," he interrupted softly, holding up a hand. "Relax, tiny. It's just me."

Olive blinked, her heart racing. "That doesn't make it okay!" she whispered, glancing toward the hallway. "If Jackie sees you—"

"She won't," he said, his tone calm but heavy. "Everyone's asleep."

Olive fidgeted nervously with her sleeve. "You should go, Cole. Please."

He tilted his head, studying her. "I will," he said, "as soon as you tell me you're not going on that date with Dylan."

Her eyes widened. "What? Cole—"

"I'm serious," he said, his voice low, almost a growl beneath his breath. "You're not going out with him."

Olive took a step back, hugging her blanket tighter. "You don't get to decide that," she said, trying to sound brave, though her voice trembled. "I can go out with whoever I want."

Cole exhaled slowly, his frustration visible in the way his hand moved through his hair. "You don't know what he's like," he muttered. "He's not the guy you think he is, tiny. He's—"

"He's nice," she cut in quickly. "He was kind to me. You were the one who started fighting him."

His jaw clenched, his green eyes darkening with something raw — guilt, maybe, or jealousy he didn't want to admit. "Because he was looking at you like—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "Forget it."

Olive's voice softened. "Why do you even care?"

Cole looked at her for a long moment, the silence between them stretching, heavy and electric. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, rough around the edges. "Because I do," he said simply.

Olive's breath caught. Her heart felt like it skipped a beat. "You don't even make sense," she whispered.

Cole took a slow step forward, his gaze never leaving hers. The space between them shrank until Olive could feel the warmth radiating from him. He wasn't touching her, but he was close enough that she had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes.

"Don't go out with him, tiny," he murmured. His voice wasn't demanding now—it was softer, almost pleading, though his eyes were still burning with intensity. "I don't want you to."

Olive's breath caught. Her fingers twisted together, and she looked away, unable to handle the weight of his gaze. "I... I don't know," she managed to say. "I'll think about it."

For a moment, neither of them moved. Cole's shoulders eased just a little, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He lifted a hand, slow and uncertain, and let his fingertips brush against her cheek in the lightest, most fleeting touch—just enough to make her shiver.

"Good," he said softly. "That's all I wanted to hear."

Olive's cheeks flushed pink, and she swallowed hard. "You're something else," she whispered.

Cole gave a quiet, breathy chuckle. "So I've been told."

Then, without another word, he turned toward the door. Olive watched him leave, her pulse still racing, her mind spinning with the echo of his voice and the lingering warmth of his touch. When the door clicked softly shut behind him, she stood there for a long moment, pressing her fingers to her cheek where his hand had been, wondering why her heart suddenly fluttered all at once.___

The morning light spilling across the campus felt far too bright for Olive's eyes. Her head was heavy, and though she'd spent most of the night staring up at her ceiling, she couldn't remember a single thing she'd actually thought about. Her chest had been full—too full—ever since Cole left her room. It wasn't just the words he'd said or the nearness of him, it was the way his voice had lingered, quiet but demanding, the kind that stayed in your mind no matter how much you wanted to forget.

At the coffee stand near the quad, Jackie and Grace sat with her, both watching as Olive stirred her drink without taking a single sip. Grace was chatting about the dance and how wild it had been, but even she could tell Olive wasn't really listening. Her friend's soft, dazed expression and tired eyes gave her away completely.

Jackie tilted her head, resting her chin in her palm as she studied Olive with a mixture of concern and suspicion. "You didn't sleep, did you?" she asked gently. Olive blinked, as if pulled out of her thoughts, and gave a small, guilty shake of her head.

Grace leaned forward eagerly. "Oh no—did something happen after we left? You look like you've been hit by a train, but, like, a cute train."

Olive managed a weak laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "No, no, I just... couldn't sleep, that's all."

Jackie frowned. "Is it because of the fight? Between Cole and Dylan?" Her voice softened as she leaned closer. "You've been tense since last night."

Olive hesitated, her fingers tightening around her cup. "No," she said quickly, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's not that."

Jackie's brow furrowed, her instincts immediately on alert. She knew Olive too well—knew that tone, that flutter in her words, the way she couldn't quite meet her eyes. "Ollie," she said carefully, "you're not telling me something."

Grace's eyes widened with intrigue, her gaze bouncing between them. "Wait, is there something? Because if there's something, I want to know."

Olive's cheeks went pink almost instantly. "There's nothing," she insisted, clutching her drink as if it could somehow save her. "Really. I just didn't sleep well. That's it."

Jackie raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Mhm," she murmured, the sound low and knowing. She let it drop for now, but her eyes said everything—she didn't buy a word of it.

Grace sighed dramatically, sipping her iced coffee. "Well, if it's not about Dylan or Cole, then I have no idea what it could be," she said, even though she looked like she was dying to keep prying.

Olive forced a small, tired smile and tried to shift the conversation, asking about the next student council meeting. But even as Grace began chattering again, Jackie didn't stop watching Olive. Her friend's shy, fidgety movements, her pink cheeks, and the way she'd been avoiding looking toward the table where Cole usually sat said more than words ever could.