Weeks had passed since my first and last attempt to tell Oliver about my feelings. I was still certain I had to do it, and was going to do it eventually, but I decided not to plan it. I would let the moment come to me instead.
Him, Charlie, Alex and I spent a lot of time together during the month of November since we were studying really hard for the same exam we were all sitting for. Those were many long nights of music, coffee and conversations, and also some very hot, summer-like afternoons. Every night, at like three or four in the morning, Alex would ride off on his bike, and Oliver and I left together on his car. Even though I had many opportunities to start the so needed conversation, it just didn't feel right or necessary at the time. My goal was to do it before the year ended, and I told myself that if I didn't get a chance to do it in person, I would just send him a very long message on December 31st before the clock hit midnight, as dramatic as it sounds. It wouldn't be me if it didn't. But I guess I was unconsciously waiting for that to happen because I still wasn't brave enough to say it to his face.
After the test (that we all failed) we took a well deserved break and I didn't see Oliver for a long time. Alex, Charlie, Darcy, Leela and I started the tradition of watching our World Cup matches together at my house, wearing the exact same clothes every time, since that appeared to bring us luck. Oliver and Luke weren't part of that tradition so we didn't see them as often. Match after match we kept winning, completely turning the tables from that disastrous first match and, eventually, we won. We were hysterical, we hugged and cried like babies. My grandfather was also part of the tradition so he was there celebrating with us. We went out to celebrate on the streets as the whole country was doing, it was a rampage of joy and fast-paced hearts. Every car that drove past us shouted us out as if they knew us.
After a long day of celebration, we decided to have a barbequeu at Alex's house, and that was the first time I saw Oli in a while. I ran to hug him, partially because I was still so euphoric, but also because I've missed him. He hugged me back coldly, almost as if he was forced to do it. That was when I knew something was wrong, and when something's wrong, it only gets worse.
We had dinner normally, I didn't talk much with him, and then we went home. The next time I saw him was when we went to a bar. We had been hanging out at Alex's place for hours before leaving and we hadn't heard from him. I assumed he wasn't coming and got really upset. I did my make up really nice and tried to enjoy it anyway, I even posted a picture because it was one of those rare days I felt pretty.
A while after I posted the photo, he showed up unannounced. It was like a stream of fresh air just hit my face, I was so happy to see him. We went out and, as always, I got drunk pretty quickly.
"I'm hungry, I want to eat..." he started saying, but I cut him right off.
"You can eat deez!" I yelled into his ears. He cringed laughing while mouthing a soft "Shit."
"That was good, you got me" he said to me as I leant onto him and playfully bit his arm.
We didn't have much expectations for the night but it ended up being really fun, we drank a lot and we even played jenga and a roulette. Oli and I even took some pictures, which doesn't happen often.
Once we were ready to leave, Oliver and I went outside and sat together at one of the tables. The others had stayed behind for a while for some reason I don't remember. My tipsy self looked down to his hands, noticing that the ring he had started to wear lately was in the same finger as mine, the one I've always wore on my ring finger.
"Hey! It's on the same finger!" I pointed out joyfully while gently holding his hand.
He smiled back at me subtly as he let me play freely with his hand. "Yes, it is" he said.
