Things Are Different Here

six

I quickly realized I had one issue with making sure Olivia's party came to an uneventful end: I had no way to lock her house up.

Brian had apparently left a little before ten, and since Olivia had a knack for hosting parties, she didn't seem to have anyone present for organizing the party details.

By eleven, I had managed to get everyone out by telling a few people Olivia needed rest for a day on a photoshoot set tomorrow—a complete lie, but everyone believed it and seemed to leave in groups.

I figured I'd do a quick lap around her house—for safety's sake, obviously—and started with the living room. Olivia's house didn't seem very personal; there were no photos on the walls, no real memorabilia scattered about. Her room seemed to be the only section of her home where she kept things of any meaning to her, other than her display case of her one Oscar and four Teen Choice Awards. It sat in what looked like an office, against a muted beige wall.

Her home was devoid of any color that you wouldn't see in a Harper's Bazaar edit, and it felt so un-inspired. I thought about her pink walls where she slept, and wondered how much time she got to spend in there. Did she practice her parts sitting in her bed with the fuchsia silk duvet? Did she FaceTime her friends and family while sat at her marble white makeup desk?

A picture stuck out to me on the desk under the window, it was a photo of her and her mom. Olivia's mom passed away about ten years ago, and it was one of the first things I'd learned about her. I felt like I understood her, with my mom not being in the picture.

I picked up the photo of the two of them, and noticed Olivia's bright smile. Her mom was holding her on her lap, she must've been seven or eight. They were at DisneyWorld, and Olivia had a Sleeping Beauty dress on. Her mom was beaming from ear to ear, just elated to be apart of Olivia's happy day. I replaced the picture and backed out of the office, realizing how tired I was.

I found my way back to the living room and grabbed one of the throw blankets off the back of the couch to use for warmth. I fluffed the decor pillow and laid down, promising myself I'd leave before Olivia even noticed I'd stayed over.

you won't believe who's house I'm sleeping over at. I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Erin, knowing they'd be up for some juicy drama. It had been a minute since we'd talked, and I missed their spunky attitude. As much as I couldn't wait for their reply, I also couldn't seem to keep my eyes open. I put my phone on the coffee table in front of me and let myself drift off to sleep on Olivia's couch.

*

"Um...hey."

My eyes fluttered open at the sound of a timid voice. The sun was pouring in through the window in front of me, and I saw blonde hair reflected in the glow.

"Oh my god," I jolted upright. "I'm so sorry, I meant to leave earlier. I just didn't want to leave your house unlocked, I'm so sorry." I stuttered, tossing the blanket off of my legs. I put my feet on the floor and fluffed the pillow I'd been using, trying to make it look unbothered. "I couldn't figure out how to arm the house, and Brian was gone."

Olivia had to be pissed that I'd slept over, and I was suddenly realizing how stupid it was of me to not just leave. She'd made it clear I wasn't welcome last night, right before nearly throwing up on me,

"It's okay," Olivia said softly. "Thank you for cleaning up."

"I'm sorry, I really should've found someone to lock up." I apologized again, and she shook her head.

"Stacy," she started, laying her hands out flat as if to calm me down. "Thank you. It's literally okay." She told me. I furrowed my brow as I studied her—where had the Olivia I'd met gone? She was actually being normal and not her usual insufferable self. "Thank you for making sure I was okay last night."