The Bikini Syndrome | WATTYS2019

» twelve: hugs

"What do you say we go to the movies?"

"But we're at the beach," Holly pointed out unnecessarily.

"I know, but...you're not really a beach kind of girl, are you?"

"Not this again," Holly said, groaning.

"But you're not, are you?"

"No," she admitted.

Oliver gave her that crooked half smile. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Holly blinked, and fumed in silence, though she wasn't irritated. Not really. Oliver always made for great company, since he seemed to have a natural understanding of people, as well as the ebbs and flows of conversation. He didn't force talk, and it suited Holly just fine.

It'd aggravated her to no end in the beginning, sure, since Holly was a restless person to start with, but as she'd gotten to know him better, she understood that he'd just been giving her some space.

"So, movies it is," Oliver announced cheerily as he leaned over to take a hold of her wrist.

Holly froze. Was it an accident? Had he meant to reach for something else, maybe his keys or something?

Yes, he keeps your keys on your arms, her logical side snarked.

But the part of her mind that was connected directly to her fluttering heart was barely capable of speech, nevertheless reasoning, because Oliver was holding her hand.

Wrist, her mind corrected.

Skin, her heart compromised. Skin on skin contact.

Her mind stayed silent and her heart finally calmed down and Oliver was still walking and he wasn't pulling his hand away. Was it just a casual motion for him? Did he do this with Sadie all the time, and therefore, had done it out of habit? The thought of Sadie made her feel guilty, but she knew she didn't have anything to be guilty for.

This wasn't a date.

This definitely was not a date.

And the holding hand-wrist thing had to be an accident.

But still. Holly didn't want to pull away. The wind would take over as soon as his fingers let go, and his warmth would dissipate along with his smell. She'd have nothing to remember this day by, and she had a feeling she wanted to remember this day. Even if she wasn't allowed to, because Oliver wasn't her boyfriend and she shouldn't be enjoying this moment.

"Hey," he started, breaking the silence.

"Yea?"

"You're eating normally, right?"

"Oh...um...yea."

"Sorry," he said, stopping to turn and face her. "I don't want to intrude, since it's none of my business, how you eat. But...," he trailed off, and turned away, scratching a spot behind his ear.

"But?" The word came out in a confrontational manner, and Holly winced inwardly. Why am I always like this? Oliver is just so friendly towards me, but I always sound so biting when I talk to him.

"I...my mom...I...it makes me worried when I see you not eating. Normally, you seem like you really like food, so-"

"Wait, are you saying I'm fat?"

Oliver looked confused. "What?"

Holly shook her head. "Sorry, um, ignore that."

"I just thought...well, I just thought maybe something was wrong, because you always like to eat. I don't mean that as you're a compulsive eater or anything, I just meant that you don't hate eating. God," he raked a hand through his hair, "that didn't make any sense, I know. Sorry. My last girlfriend broke up with me because I tried to have this conversation with her and she said the exact same thing you did, but that's not what I meant at all, and-"

Holly reached over with her free hand and placed an index finger over his lips to shush him. "Shh, I get what you're saying." She smiled, and once again, that warm feeling inside her heart started, and she really, really wanted to put her head on his chest and put her arms around him.

What would it be like to be in his arms? she wondered wistfully, and imagined an alternate universe where she was allowed to date and he was single and she was pretty and skinny and flirtatious and could be his girlfriend and hug him freely and enjoy every single handhold.

She sighed and told herself to shake it out. It was just a delusion, it would never happen.

Oliver gently pried Holly's finger off his mouth, and Holly quickly retracted her hand, blushing as she realized that she'd been keeping her hand at his lips long enough for it to be awkward. "Okay," he said softly. "I was just worried." He looked down for a moment, then back up, and placed both his hands on her wrist. "We're friends, right?"

"Yea. Friends," Holly mumbled.

"Okay. Then it's okay for me to care about you, isn't it?"

It was Holly's turn to look down. "Yea."

"So you can't be mad if I ask about you. I'm worried about you, as a friend. I don't want you to be like my mom, and-" he suddenly stopped.

"Oliver?" Holly looked back up and met his eyes. He wasn't wearing his glasses, she realized. His eyes were deeper and bluer and just so beautiful when they were exposed, and from where she stood, she could see them perfectly. It would be cliched to say that she was drowning in them, but she really was indeed, getting drawn into them. They were just so...kind and warm. And now, they were sad too.

He shook his head. "It's nothing. My mom just went through his brief period where she..." he hesitated.

"Let's talk about something else," Holly said suddenly bluntly.

"What?"

"You're not comfortable talking about this, right? I don't want to force you to tell me."

"I don't mind. I trust you." He gave her a different kind of smile. It was one she'd never seen before, and it was so close to tender that Holly would've wept if she was in one of those passionate romance novels with the barons and lords and women wearing really low v-neck dresses. But because she was in real life, Holly did something else entirely, and she wasn't sure whether she was proud of it or not.

She leaned over and succumbed to her urge to hug him.