Both Sides | ✓

Chapter 17

Olivia's POV:

I couldn't sleep that night.

My head stung after thinking so hard about everything that went down just 14 hours ago. This was all so confusing. On one hand, Cleo was exciting and spontaneous and I felt comfortable around her. On the other hand, she practically threw me away. Who's to say she wouldn't do that again? On top of that, River was thrown into the mix. They were honestly a huge mess of confusion that I couldn't bother sorting out. And anyway, all of this was hypothetical. There was about a 12% chance that Cleo Roberts felt the same way.

I wondered if right then, she was tossing and turning, being kept up by thoughts of me. I couldn't shake this feeling that I should call her and ask her how she felt about everything. That was a ridiculous idea, of course, but part of me wanted to just hear her voice. And as much as I hated to admit it, I hoped that the chance Cleo felt the same was higher than 12%. Because I was 99.9% sure I wanted to kiss her again.

The next morning, I woke up to Christmas music and the smell of cinnamon and melted butter.

"Via, " Allison called from my doorway.

I opened my eyes just enough to make out everything in front of me. Allison had on a cheesy Christmas sweater underneath a flour coated apron.

"We're baking cookies downstairs if you wanna help."

I didn't, but not helping would make mom worry. "I'll be down soon, " I murmured, turning to read the alarm clock on my bedside table.

11:45 AM. I had been sleeping in oddly late to make up for the sleep I had missed during the night. I was unusually restless. Anxious thoughts kept me up late most of high school, but it felt like it was getting worse. I could feel myself becoming exhausted.

I sat up, finally blinking into the daylight of my bedroom. I pulled on a pair of shorts and quickly made my bed, tightening the sheets and placing pillows in their proper place. The stairs threw me into a rather festive living room. Christmas music was playing as my mom and sister worked in the kitchen. The scene looked straight out of a Hallmark movie.

"Olivia! Wash your hands and help us out," my mother said from behind the island. I made my way to the sink and rolled up the sleeves of my sweater. "You're up late. Are you feeling okay?"

I nodded to my mom. "Tired. I'll be fine, though." She clicked her tongue and continued to knead sugar cookie dough. I counted to 25 in my head as I scrubbed my hands.

"So, " mom said, stretching out the 'o. "I was checking your grades, Olivia, and you're making a B in government."

I glanced at her as I shut the water off. Mom looked back at me and nodded disapprovingly.

"Yes. An 87."

"Well, I'll be able to raise it, mom. We still have, like, 4 weeks until report cards are mailed."

"I don't want excuses. A B is unacceptable. You know my expectations for you, honey." I nodded in reply. My head was getting fuzzy and I tried my best to tune out my mother's voice. 

"When I give you the freedom I do by letting you spend time with friends and sleep in late like this, it doesn't come without a cost. You cannot just give up because you're feeling lazy. I think that by now you should know how hard you have to work to succeed," she took in a breath before shaking her head. "I'm honestly just... disappointed in you, " she said.

"I'm still tired, " I spat out immediately after the words left her lips. "I'm going back upstairs."

I fled up the stairs and closed the door behind me, suddenly aware of every detail in my
bedroom. I couldn't explain it. It was like every object leapt out like a 3D movie and, as much as I just wanted to go back to bed, my brain was screaming at me to start sorting. 

I started with the pens on my desk, piling them in color order, slipping them away again. Then, my closet. Color patterns raced in my head as I moved. I didn't have time to think about my mom or worry about my grades. My hands were too busy.

I pulled my pillows off my bed, set them back in the same places, repeated this two more times. The books on my shelf filed into alphabetical order, the trophies on my wall lined up by size. After what had to have been an hour of organizing anything I could find, there was a tap on my bedroom door.

"Via, " Allison murmured as she stepped inside. Her eyes crinkled as she watched me shove away a set of markers, organized in a rainbow ombré.

"Hey, what's up?" I said, quickly.

Allison frowned and closed the door behind her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I was just tired and mom kind of ambushed me-"

"You always say you're fine. It's okay to say you're not." She bit her lip before continuing. "I had to deal with this same thing during high-school. She was less... intense, but it still hurt. So, if you ever want to talk, just know I'm right across the hall. Okay?

I took a breath before simply uttering, "I'm fine. She just wants what's best for me, okay?" I shook my head. "I don't know why you're so obsessed with pitting me against my own mother."

She looked at me pitifully before nodding. "Whatever you say, Olivia." And with that, she shut the door, and I was alone again.

But, my brain had stopped buzzing.

And the objects in my room laid in perfect order.

And my hands shook as I held them up.

And I was fine.