Write Me A Letter

20 | red

CHAPTER TWENTY | R E D

THEY WERE ALREADY WALKING INTO Dudlee Goods when Brie voiced out what had been bugging her ever since they left her home.

"You don't like salads," she told Ollie who snorted at her.

The last thing that Ollie would ever have was a salad. He much rather have the vegetables separately then have them tossed in a bowl and smothered with dressing. It tasted awful, that was what he claimed and to have him look forward to it as he said on the drive toward the grocery store was a bit unsettling. It gave Brie this feeling that he just wanted to be around her, and that thought was far too dangerous for her vulnerable soul.

Ollie shrugged and pushed the glass door open for her. The airconditioning hit her cheeks with coolness and the scent of fresh fruits greeted them. It was sweet and strongly smelled of apples and pears, giving her a sudden craving for apple pies with a slightly bitter crust. Ollie picked up a green basket and swung it back and forth. "Maybe I do like them now."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes at that. "You can have a salad anytime not just at my house."

"Maybe," Ollie dragged the word out as leaned in close to her. "I like your mom's Ceasar salad."

"Ollie, just go—"

"Oh, look! Lays. You want some?"

He didn't wait for her to respond. Like a kid on a shopping spree at a toy store, Ollie grabbed at least eight bags of chips and tossed them into his basket.

"You don't have to go, Ollie. There's a party you need to attend to."

"I can just go back later after dinner. That party will go on until the wee hours."

"Why?"

He paused from grabbing a pack of peanuts and turned to her with a frown. "What why? Because Jean wants to? It's her party. How should I know why she wants it to go until the next day?"

"Why are you acting as if we haven't talked in months? The last time we did, things didn't go so well."

His expression changed. His lips that were tugged downwards from confusion stretched out into a grim line. It was obvious that he was reminded of that day at the school parking lot. She was horrible then, probably still was today.

And it was true. He gave her the metaphorical ball and she let it roll down the floor. Pride won over her heart rather than friendship and Brie couldn't think of a reason why Ollie would want to spend more time with her than he already did. Yes, he wanted to help her with Jean, but that was already at least two hours ago. He didn't have to follow her around like he did right now.

With a sigh, he tossed the packet of peanuts to the basket and it landed with a thud, grabbed another packet and tossed it in with more force. Ollie started to walk further into the aisle, and she scurried after him as he walked as fast as his long legs could take him.

"Ollie, can you slow down?"

He took a sharp turn to face her and Brie's head almost his chest. Chucks squeaking, she gasped as he grabbed her elbows to steady her. "If I slow down, would you stop running away?"

She was dumbfounded. This Ollie right in front of her right now, the one who had his face close enough for her to feel his warm breath against the tip of her nose wasn't the same indifferent one who had a devil-may-care attitude. The tip of his ears were slowly coloring pink, and his eyes were narrowed at her but they weren't masked by his unconcerned veil. Instead, the emotions that were rarely seen on him was out in the open, laid one by one until Brie felt they were all piling up on her chest.

Care, pain, frustration, adoration. They marked his eyes in dark and vivid colors, branded his hands that held her so close; his lips that expelled trembling breaths of uncertainty.

She couldn't. She just couldn't.

With eyes closed, she curled her hands tightly against his beating heart and whispered, "please, don't do this. I can't, Ollie."

She couldn't trust that he was feeling the same thing that she did, she didn't trust that her heart had fully recovered from Xander already. There were so many reasons why she could not and it all wrapped around her body like a blanket of despair.

It shouldn't have hurt her when he dropped his hands from her elbow as if she was on fire and she burned his palms. But as the distance between them grew when he turned to walk toward the end of the aisle, Brie knew that she was starting to walk another familiar journey again. And she knew for a fact that she might be headed to a different city, but her destination would still be the same.

Alone. Shattered.

-

Ollie didn't speak to her after that. He remained quiet, only cursing at the traffic light and pedestrians every now and then but he mostly ignored her pronounced existence in his passenger seat.

They were headed back home and they were on that tangent in their friendship that Brie never expected to come.

The scene at grocery store was a lot more profound that what laid beyond the surface. She tried to deny it at first but with the way he reacted, an eminent feeling rose above the rest. They were skirting the dangerous parameters of what laid outside of friendship and she didn't know when and how did it happen.

She was in love with Xander. She was still hurt from that. Ollie was just there. She was...

A blaring horn from the car to their right who zoomed past them shook her out of her reprieve and she glanced at Ollie whose hands were wrapped tight on the steering wheel.

He looked tensed and she was the one to blame.

"Ollie," she said, heart filled with words to say but coming up with no courage to speak.

His hands only tightened even further on the wheel but his eyes remained on the road. Then, just like an off switch, his shoulders relaxed and he glanced at her with a grin. "We're almost there. Don't tell me you're already hungry after that bowl of spaghetti."

"Ollie, we need to talk."

"About what?"

A sense of anger grabbed at her wits as she tightened her hold on her wallet. He was doing it again—to her of all people. "Stop pretending like you don't know what I'm talking about," she snapped, turning away to look outside the window.

Easy breaths. Easy breaths.

An amused snort that was garnished with mild annoyance and faux confusion came out of his lips and she turned to him with a glare.

"What?" he laughed. "What are you mad about?"

"Oliver—"

"Brie," he said, voice low and tone like of someone reprimanding a child, "there's nothing to talk about because nothing happened. Now stop grinding your teeth because you're wasting the money your mom spent on braces."

She opened her mouth and yet again words failed her. She snapped her head back toward the window and made sure that he wouldn't see the tears roll down her cheeks.

She should've known she'll end up damaged again. She should've known.