✩ #17 in body positivity ✩
Holly needs a job. And some cash.
That's how she ends up at Cafe by the Sea, hired by the assistant manager, Oliver, who's cute, annoying, and totally unattainable. She's not really looking to fall in love though - it's...
Oliver turned around, gently grasping Holly's shoulders.
She flinched without realizing — her shoulder still hurt from where Rohan had grabbed it — and Oliver quickly snatched his hands away, as if he'd been burned.
No, she wanted to say. It's fine. I know you won't hurt me.
But another part of her thought: He's also a guy. How do you know?
So in the end, Holly couldn't say anything. She just nodded.
Oliver fumbled in his pockets for something. It turned out to be some crumped Kleenex, which he handed to her, abashed. "It's clean, I promise. I just...I thought you might cry today during work, so I-" Oliver's face seemed especially flushed under the harsh glow of the street lights and the setting sun. He scratched his nose awkwardly, then said no more.
Holly gaped at the tissues for a moment and almost cracked a smile. Sweet, adorkable Oliver. The fact that he'd been carrying tissues around just for her, for an entire day, and still had them crumpled in the the corner of his pocket, gave her a sort of fuzzy and warm feeling inside.
He watched her intently as she wiped away her tear tracks, and Holly had to turn away.
"I'll call the cops," he said, when she'd thrown away the tissues. He pulled out his phone, and was already dialing the second "1".
Holly grabbed his hand and shook her head frantically. "You can't. Please!"
"Why not?" His brow wrinkled in obvious confusion. "He threatened you, Holly! He almost assaulted you!" The word again seemed to the hang in the air around them, but neither of them dared to acknowledge it.
"I-I know. But Oliver, please. I don't want to...I don't want to get the cops involved yet. Tonight. Everything is already a mess in my head, and I just...I don't want to deal with it tonight. I want to go home and talk to my parents. Please."
His eyes bored into hers, and after searching her face for something, he sighed and put his phone away. "Okay. But you have to let me take you home tonight. I'll feel better that way."
After a brief conversation, they decided that they would take Oliver's car, and Oliver would pick her up the next morning on his way to work.
The drive back to her house was a quiet one, filled only by radio static and the hum of the engine.
Holly fiddled with her hands in her laps, and looked at everything around her — except for Oliver. Part of her was nervous to be in a car with him. Because it was Oliver? Because she was alone in a confined space with a person of the opposite sex? Because she was worried what he'd think about her? Because she couldn't seem to bear his touch now, because of all the painful things it reminded her of?
If this had been two weeks ago, I would've been nervous, but thrilled, she thought wryly. Now she was just nervous.
"This is me," Holly said a bit unnecessarily when Oliver pulled into her driveway. She almost forgot that Oliver had already been to her house once before.
"Do you want me to go in with you?" he said, turning in the driver's seat to face her.
The porch light casted a soft glow on half of his face. Holly couldn't help but be struck at his damnably cute/handsome boy face, like a tanner and more mature Shawn Mendes. Maybe it was because they were in such a small space together.
Holly felt her ears go hot, and knew that was her cue to go. Even in this situation, her stupid teenage hormones were raging a war against her better reason.
"No, but thank you."
Holly got out of the car, but before she lost her courage, peeked in and said, "I mean thank you for everything. I feel really lucky to have you here and helping me with so many things and just being there for me."
It came out in a rush, and Holly slammed the passenger door shut before she could hear his reply. She dashed for the front door and opened the door like a madman. When she had closed it behind her, she peeked out the little hole and let a small smile slip when she saw him still in the driveway.
He waved to her — tiny in the peephole — as he pulled out of the driveway, as if he knew she was looking.
"Holly?"
Holly turned around, smile fading when she saw her Mom's concerned face. Her apron was askew and her rubber gloves were on, meaning she'd probably been doing the dishes. The water was still running in the background.
"Why'd you come in through the front door and not the garage?"
Holly took a deep breath. "Mom, we...need to talk."
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