Chapter 22 - Erin's Fire ♡︎

By the time lunch rolled around, Olive felt like she'd already lived through an entire day. Her classes had passed in a blur of half-heard lectures and scribbled notes that barely made sense. Every time she blinked, she saw Cole in her mind again—his eyes, his voice, the way he'd cornered her in her room the night before. It was enough to make her chest feel heavy all over again, though she tried her hardest to pretend everything was normal.

Now, she sat at the usual table with Jackie, Grace, Alex, Nathan, and Skylar. The air buzzed with lunchtime chatter and clinking trays. Grace was telling some ridiculous story about one of their professors, her hands flying through the air dramatically, and even Alex chuckled as he reached for his drink. Jackie smiled a little at Grace's enthusiasm, but every few moments, her eyes flicked toward Olive, who was pushing her salad around more than she was eating it.

"Ollie," Jackie said softly, her voice breaking through the noise. "You okay? You've barely touched your food."

Olive blinked, startled out of her daze. "Oh," she murmured, forcing a small, tired smile. "I'm just... not really hungry."

Skylar frowned. "You sure? You look like you haven't slept in days."

Grace nodded, leaning in. "She's probably still thinking about last night."

Olive's cheeks flushed, and she opened her mouth to deny it—but before she could speak, the sound of heels clicking across the cafeteria floor interrupted them. The group turned their heads just as Erin approached the table, her arms crossed and her expression already sharp.

"Well, isn't this cute," Erin drawled, her tone dripping with sarcasm. Her eyes landed on Olive, and the smirk that followed made Jackie's blood boil instantly. "Didn't expect to see you here, Olive."

Olive stiffened, her fingers tightening around her fork. "H-Hi, Erin..." she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Erin tilted her head. "You know, I've been meaning to ask—who told you it was okay to dance with Cole last night?" Her words were venomous, loud enough for nearby tables to hear. "Because last I checked, you looked pretty out of place on that dance floor. And that dress you wore?" She let out a cruel laugh. "God, it looked like something out of a kid's closet."

Jackie's eyes went wide in disbelief, and Grace slammed her hand down on the table. "Erin, what is your problem?" she snapped, glaring up at her.

Erin ignored her completely, her attention locked on Olive, who sat frozen in place. Olive's lip trembled, her eyes glistening as she tried to swallow the lump forming in her throat. "I—" she started, her voice shaking. "I didn't mean—"

"Oh, of course you didn't," Erin cut in with a fake smile. "You never mean anything, do you? You just... stumble around and let people pity you. Guess that's why Cole feels bad enough to hang around."

That was the final straw. Olive's chair scraped loudly against the floor as she stood up, her eyes full of tears. Everyone at the table fell silent, their anger sharp but useless in the moment. Olive pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, unable to hold it in anymore, and then she turned and bolted out of the cafeteria, tears slipping down her cheeks.

"Erin!" Jackie shouted, standing up so fast her chair nearly tipped over. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Erin just shrugged, though a flicker of uncertainty crossed her face. "What? I'm just telling the truth."

Alex stood next, his expression dark. "You need to leave. Now."

Grace's hands curled into fists, and Skylar muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse. Jackie's glare could have burned through steel.

Across the cafeteria, Cole had been sitting with his football friends, half-listening to the conversation at his table while keeping an eye on Olive from afar—like he always did. When he saw Erin walk up, he knew it wasn't going to end well. But the moment Olive stood and ran, crying, his heart lurched. He didn't think twice.

Pushing back from the table, Cole stood abruptly. "Cole?" one of his teammates asked, but he didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on the cafeteria doors, already moving toward them.

He didn't care that people were staring or whispering. All he cared about was finding Olive.

And when he burst out into the hallway, he could still hear the faint sound of her sobs echoing down the corridor.

Cole's voice echoed down the empty hallway, urgent and low. "Olive! Stop running!" His tone wasn't angry—it was desperate, almost pleading—but the sound of his voice only made Olive's pulse quicken. Her small frame darted around the corner, her shoes scuffing against the polished floor as she tried to get away. She didn't want him to see her like this, didn't want him to see her eyes red from crying or hear the quiet, broken sobs escaping her lips. She just wanted to be left alone, to disappear for a little while, but Cole wasn't the kind of person who let things go. Not when it came to her.

"Tiny, please," he called again, his footsteps growing louder, closer, faster. And then, before she could even make it to the next corridor, a hand caught her wrist from behind. She gasped, her body jerking to a stop, but Cole's grip was steady—firm yet careful, like he was afraid she'd slip through his fingers if he held her any looser.

"Hey," he breathed, slightly out of breath but calm, his voice softening instantly. "Stop. Just stop for a second."

Olive froze, trembling from both exhaustion and emotion. She didn't turn around. Her head hung low, her hair falling over her face as she tried to wipe her tears away with the back of her hand. "Let go," she whimpered, her voice small and cracked. "Please, Cole. I just want to be alone."

He didn't answer right away. He just looked at her—the way her shoulders shook, the way her fingers fidgeted nervously against her sleeves—and it broke something inside him. Slowly, he stepped closer, still holding her wrist but not restraining her anymore. "You really think I'm just going to leave you like this?" he said quietly. "You're crying.  You look like you haven't slept in days. I can't just... walk away from that."

Olive shook her head, sniffling hard, still refusing to face him. "You don't understand," she whispered, her words trembling. "Everyone always thinks they do, but they don't."

Cole sighed deeply, the sound full of patience and something heavier—something almost protective. He lifted his hand and gently touched her arm, guiding her to turn around. "Then make me understand," he said softly. "Look at me, tiny."

The nickname made her chest ache, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, she turned to face him, her wide, tear-filled eyes meeting his deep green ones. Cole's expression softened instantly. She looked so small, so fragile, her lips trembling, her face blotchy and tired. He'd seen her shy before, scared before, but this was different—this was heartbreak and exhaustion all tangled together.

"Hey," he murmured, brushing his thumb gently across her cheek to wipe away a tear. "You're okay. You hear me? You're okay."

Olive's chin quivered. "No, I'm not," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Everyone keeps saying that, but I'm not."

Cole's chest tightened, and before he even thought about it, he pulled her closer. It was steady, grounding, like he was trying to anchor her to the present. "Then let me make it better," he said quietly. "Just for now. You're exhausted, tiny. You look like you're about to fall over."

"I'm fine," she muttered weakly, her words muffled against his shirt.

"No, you're not," he said gently, shaking his head. He leaned back just enough to look at her, his hand still resting lightly on her arm. "You haven't slept, have you?"

Olive blinked slowly, her eyes glassy and unfocused. "No," she whispered after a moment. "I... I couldn't."

Cole sighed again, the kind of sigh that came from deep inside, the kind that carried worry and guilt all at once. "That's what I thought." He glanced around the quiet hallway, then back at her, lowering his voice. "You need to get out of here, tiny. Away from the noise, from the people, from... all of this."

Olive sniffled and frowned, confused. "What?" she asked softly.

"I mean it," Cole said, brushing her hair back gently. "You're half-asleep on your feet. You've been through enough today." He looked down at her, his tone steady and protective. "Let's get out of here for a while. Just me and you. Somewhere quiet, yeah?"

Olive blinked up at him, startled. "Cole... I can't," she murmured, shaking her head. "We're at school. Jackie will—"

"I'll deal with Jackie," he cut in, his tone calm but firm. "You just need a break."

Olive hesitated, her lips parting as if to argue, but when she looked into his eyes—those soft, concerned green eyes—she felt the fight drain out of her. She was so tired, so emotionally drained that the thought of leaving, of just escaping for a while, didn't sound so bad.

Cole saw her hesitation and gave a faint smile, brushing his thumb against her wrist again. "Come on," he said quietly. "You trust me, don't you?"

Olive hesitated again, then nodded slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Last time you said that you got me drunk at a party... but, yes." she said, her eyes still glistening.

"Good," Cole murmured, his hand lingering on her arm for a moment longer before he nodded toward the exit. "Then let's go."___

Cole didn't say much on the drive—he didn't need to. The hum of the engine and the quiet country road ahead said enough. Olive sat in the passenger seat, her hands clasped nervously in her lap, her eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. Every now and then, she'd glance at him, at his hand resting on the steering wheel, at the way his green eyes softened whenever he looked her way. The silence between them wasn't awkward—it was calm, steady, like the world had finally slowed down after a day that felt too heavy for either of them.

After a while, the paved road gave way to a narrow dirt path lined with trees, their branches arching above the truck like a canopy. Olive frowned softly, curiosity flickering through her tired eyes. "Where are we going?" she asked, her voice still small and fragile.

Cole just gave a quiet chuckle. "You'll see," he said, glancing at her with a faint smile. "It's somewhere I go when I need to breathe for a bit."

Olive didn't push for more. She leaned her head against the window, watching the world blur past in shades of green and gold. The afternoon sun cast a warm glow over everything, and for the first time that day, she felt her chest ease just a little.

Finally, Cole slowed the truck to a stop. "We're here," he said softly.

Olive blinked, lifting her head. When she looked out the window, her breath caught. They were surrounded by a wide-open field blanketed in wildflowers—lavender, daisies, and little bursts of yellow and pink scattered like paint across a green canvas. The gentle breeze made them sway, and the faint scent of flowers drifted through the open windows. It was quiet—peaceful in a way that felt unreal compared to the noise of the world they'd left behind.

Cole turned off the engine and looked at her, the sunlight catching in his hair. "Come on," he said quietly.

Olive stepped out of the truck, her shoes sinking slightly into the soft grass. The air smelled sweet and clean, and the only sound was the distant chirping of birds. She turned in a slow circle, taking it all in, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she smiled. "It's beautiful," she murmured, her voice full of awe.

Cole came around to stand beside her, his hands tucked into his pockets. He watched her for a moment, then said softly, "Yeah. It is." He gave a small grin. "I come here when I need to get away from everyone. It's kind of my secret spot."

Olive tilted her head toward him, her eyes curious. "Why here?" she asked quietly.

Cole glanced out over the field, his expression thoughtful. "Because it's quiet," he said after a moment. "No noise, no pressure. Out here, it's just... simple. You can think, or not think at all. You can just exist without anyone expecting anything from you."

He picked a daisy from the ground, twirling it between his fingers as he spoke. "When I got into trouble, I used to drive out here and just sit. I'd yell sometimes, or just stare at the sky until it got dark. It helped, you know? Helped me not feel like the world was closing in."

Olive listened quietly, her gaze softening. There was something raw and honest in his voice, something she hadn't heard from him before. She could tell this place meant more to him than he was willing to admit.

Without really thinking, she reached out and sat down in the grass. Cole followed, sitting beside her close enough that their shoulders brushed. Olive looked around again, her voice barely a whisper. "I can see why you like it here."

Cole smiled faintly. "Yeah," he said softly. "It's kind of hard not to." He glanced at her then, his voice lowering. "You looked like you needed this. A break. Just... peace for a while."

Olive gave a tiny nod, her tired eyes glancing down at the flowers brushing her knees. "I did," she admitted quietly. "Everything's been so much lately. I don't even know how to keep up anymore."

Cole hummed in understanding, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "You don't have to figure it all out," he said. "Sometimes you just need to stop running for a bit."

Olive didn't answer right away. Instead, she leaned a little closer, resting her head gently against his shoulder. Cole went still for a second, surprised—but then he relaxed, his lips curving into the faintest smile. He didn't move, didn't speak, just let her rest there.

Within minutes, Olive's breathing evened out, slow and soft. He turned his head slightly and looked down at her. She was already fast asleep, her hair gently brushing his arm, her face peaceful in a way he hadn't seen before.

Cole chuckled under his breath, his voice barely a whisper. "Have a good nap, tiny," he murmured, his green eyes soft with something he couldn't quite name.

He leaned back on his elbows, letting the sun warm his face as he kept her close, the wildflowers swaying gently around them like a quiet promise that, at least for now, everything was okay.