the moral of the story

chapter twenty-five: what if it's a date?!

"so do you think we should finally talk?" oliver asks me, the first of us pulling our eyes away.

"talk?" i repeat dumbly and breathlessly, with my heart still hammering against my chest from our interaction only moments ago.

"yeah, talk." he coughs awkwardly. "about what we said on saturday."

"oh, yeah. that." i laugh awkwardly, watching as he grabs my other hand and begins to paint the nail over my other thumb.

"i, uh," he starts with a sigh, "i meant what i said. i mean, i rambled a little, but that's basically what i've been feeling. i've been feeling that way, like, pretty much the whole time i've known you, florence."

i glance down at our hands. he's screwed the brush back into the tube and is now just holding my hand. i inhale a shaky breath, feeling my chest grow ten times heavier. when he interlocks our fingers, i feel like i might pass out.

"i don't get it." i finally say after a few moments.

"what's that?"

"well first of all, you." i say, attempting to ignore the way his thumb is stroking mine. "you're so weird, you know that right? you're oliver valentine. you could literally have any girl you wanted in the world. and you're sitting here, in the bedroom of a very damaged teenage girl, saying you want me, of all the people in the world. me? honestly, ollie, there must be something wrong with you."

"why's that?" this boy has the audacity to smirk at me.

"because i'm the literal worst person to be with right now!" i exclaim. "i mean, seriously, do you know how fucked up i am right now, oliver? james really screwed me up. i feel like my perception of love will never be the same because of him. it's like...i thought that i was done. at fifteen, i really thought that i had found my person. and then it's just gone. like that. i thought i was gonna spend the rest of my life with james. and now i have issues. and everyone...god, oliver, everyone hates me. ask anyone on the street. they probably hate me. i just don't understand why you'd want me."

oliver doesn't even flinch at my words. he must've gotten used to my bluntness by now. in fact, his hand only grips mine tighter. his eyes, desperate and needy, search mine. for what, i can't be certain. but i am certain i've never seen such determination in oliver before.

"why wouldn't i want you, florence? yeah, you've got some serious trust issues, that's pretty obvious. but i don't care. i mean, i care. i do. but those issues don't affect my feelings for you. i like you because you're different. i don't care about what other people say. they don't know the real you. they don't know that your favorite show growing up was warlock's groove, and that when you laugh your nose scrunches up in the cutest way that just makes my heart literally melt. or that even though you put up this facade of being a bitch, you've got the biggest heart in the world. and that you're just a girl. who's hurting. who deserves to be happy for once. if she could just let herself."

oh god. not again. why does he have to be so right all the time? it's seriously starting to get really annoying. can't i ever like a boy without him reciprocating the feelings? this is so frustrating. i hate being a human. humans have feelings. feelings are stupid. being a human is stupid. have i mentioned that i wish that i was born a rock?

oliver just knows exactly what to say. he's miles ahead of me when it comes to stringing sentences together. i mean, look at me. i'm a complete disaster. i never know what i'm talking about, ever. most of the time there aren't even any thoughts in my head. just random song lyrics and images of a reality that i wish i lived in.

but i think i might be starting to like this reality, just a little.

"my sister..." i finally trail off. see, i never know what to say. words just come out.