28| Five Dates

We walked side by side through the hospital corridors, the fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over everything. I kept my eyes on Isla, unable to look away even if I tried. She was wearing Reid's hoodie, the sleeves falling over her hands, the fabric swallowing her frame. It smelled like him—like cedarwood and something faintly metallic—and it made my chest tighten with a jealousy I couldn't quite shake. She looked small, vulnerable, and yet there was a quiet strength in the way she carried herself, even now. Her nose scrunched up slightly, a telltale sign she was nervous, and I found myself wanting to reach out, to smooth the worry from her face.

We found a small seating area near the cafeteria, tucked away from the bustling hallways but close enough to the ER that we could get to Reid quickly if he needed us. It wasn't ideal, but it was private enough for the conversation I'd been rehearsing in my head all night.

"Sit," I said gently, gesturing to one of the chairs. She hesitated for a moment before sinking into it, her hands fidgeting with the oversized sleeves of Reid's hoodie. I watched as she rolled them up, her fingers trembling slightly. Those same hands had been wrapped around Reid's earlier in the car, grounding him, comforting him. The thought made my stomach twist, but I pushed it aside.

"I'll get us some coffee," I said, forcing a smile. She nodded, her eyes darting toward the entrance of the ER again. Of course, her mind was still on Reid. It always was.

I returned with two cups, handing her the one I'd made sweet, just the way I knew she liked it. She took it with a small, grateful smile, her fingers brushing against mine. The contact was brief, but it sent a jolt through me. I sat down beside her, closer than necessary, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to be near her, to feel the warmth of her presence, even if it was just for a moment.

She lifted the cup to her lips, and I couldn't help but stare. Her lips were soft, slightly chapped from the cold, and I wondered what it would feel like to kiss her, to taste the sweetness of the coffee on her tongue. I quickly looked away, scratching the back of my neck. I didn't want to be a creep, but it was hard not to fixate on her when she was so... her.

"Thank you, Oliver," she whispered, her voice breaking through my thoughts. "I really needed that."

I nodded, but I could sense it—the guilt radiating off her in waves. She felt bad, and it wasn't fair. She had nothing to feel guilty about. If anything, I was the one who'd forced myself into her life, begging for scraps of her attention. I hadn't felt this way since Lesley broke my heart, and I'd sworn off love after that. But Isla... she was different. She was worth the risk.

She sighed heavily, her gaze drifting back toward the ER entrance. I knew she was thinking about Reid, about Red, about whatever mess they were tangled up in. If I could, I'd tell her everything—about Red, about Reid, about the complicated web of emotions that tied them together. But it wasn't my place. Reid had made that clear.

"Isla," I said softly, my voice trembling slightly. She turned to look at me, her dark eyes meeting mine, and my heart stuttered in my chest. "Do you think we should check on him?" she asked, already starting to stand.

I reached out, gently pulling her back down. "Could you maybe... focus your attention on me? Just for ten minutes. Then you can go back to worrying about Reid."

She looked at me, surprised, and I immediately regretted my words. Had I been too forward? Too demanding? My hand found its way to my neck again, scratching nervously. "I'm sorry, I just... I just..." I stammered, my cheeks burning.

But then she smiled—that same open, toothy smile that had left me entranced the night I drove her home. It was like sunlight breaking through the clouds, and I felt my tension ease slightly.

"You're right," she said softly. "And I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize to me," I said quickly, my hand still on my neck. I hated this habit, but it was hard to stop when she made me so nervous.

She took a big sip of her coffee, then turned to face me fully. This was my chance. I'd practiced this speech all night, perfecting every word, every pause. I was going to tell her about the new record I'd set at today's swimming competition, about how I'd pushed myself harder than ever because of her. But before I could speak, she beat me to it.

"Oliver," she said, drawing out my name in a way that made my heart skip a beat.

"Before you turn me down, could you at least hear me out? I practiced my speech all night."I smiled sadly, my chest tightening.

"Okay," she said, leaning forward and resting her head on the table, her hands still tucked into the pockets of Reid's hoodie. I followed her lead, laying my head on the table too so we were face-to-face. She was so close now, close enough that I could see the faint freckles on her nose, the way her eyelashes fluttered when she blinked. She was beautiful—not in a flashy, obvious way, but in a way that made you stop and stare, like a flower blooming in the middle of a concrete jungle.

I closed my eyes for a moment, shaking my head to clear my thoughts. "I like you, Isla," I began, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. "A lot. I could go on and on about all the reasons I like you, but I wouldn't want to bore you with the details."

"Actually, I'd like to hear them," she said, her voice soft but firm.

I smiled, my heart swelling. "Alright, then. I like the way you laugh—it's this little snort that you try to hide, but it's the most genuine sound I've ever heard. I like the way you scrunch your nose when you're thinking, like you're solving the world's greatest mystery. I like how you always notice the little things, like when you asked if I used glasses because you noticed how I squint sometimes. I like how you smile when we talk, I like how caring you are, I like how your emotions  can be read on your face even though it hurts me some times. And... you're really beautiful. But you already know that."

She didn't say anything, just watched me with those dark, soulful eyes. I wanted to kiss her so badly, to close the distance between us and taste the sweetness of her lips. But I couldn't. Not yet. Not like this.

"Oliver," she said finally, her voice trembling. "I'm not sure what to say."

Tears welled up in her eyes, and one slipped down her cheek, landing on the table between us. My heart ached at the sight. "Can I touch you?" I asked softly, and she nodded almost imperceptibly. I reached out, gently wiping the tear from her cheek. "It wasn't my intention to make you cry. I guess I really suck at this, huh?"

She laughed through her tears, the sound like music to my ears. "No, you don't suck. You're perfect. Too perfect. And I don't deserve your affection. I'm a bitch"

"Why would you say that?" I asked, shifting closer to shield her from the prying eyes of passersby.

"All I've done is ignore you and lie to you. You should hate me."

"Why would I hate you?" I said, my voice firm. "I've met a lot of bitches, and you're the farthest thing from being one."

She laughed again, and I felt her shoulders relax slightly.

"Five dates," I blurted out, my knee brushing against hers under the table. She didn't pull away, and I did a little victory dance in my head.

"What?" she asked, her brow furrowing.

"Please," I said, my voice pleading. "Give me five dates to change your mind. If you still feel the same way after that, you can reject me, and I'll accept it with a grateful heart. At least then I'll know I've done everything I could."

She looked at me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine. "I don't think this is a good idea," she said finally.

"Are you really going to make me beg again?" I joked, and she smiled despite herself.

"You never give up, do you?"

"I made a new record in today's competition," I said, grinning. "That's how determined I was."

"Congratulations," she said, her smile warming my heart.

"I was going to tell you after the meet."

"And I left," she said, her tone dropping.

I nodded, smiling to show her it was okay, even though it hadn't been at the time. I was the one who couldn't let go, even knowing her feelings for Reid. This was all on me. And if I ended up heartbroken, so be it. At least I'd know I'd tried.

"So, what do you say?" I asked, my voice hopeful. "Five dates, and then you can kick me to the curb."

She laughed, the sound making me shiver. "Fine," she said, her eyes sparkling. "I'd be honored to go on five dates with you, Ollie."

My heart skipped a beat at the nickname. "Ollie?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you not like it?" she asked, her tone teasing.

"Of course I love it," I said, grinning. She relaxed, and I felt a surge of warmth in my chest. This moment, this closeness—it was giving me hope and hope was dangerous to me.

I look at her again and she shudders, her shoulders trembling under the weight of Reid's oversized hoodie.

"Are you cold?" I asked, my voice soft, almost a whisper.

She nodded, her hands still tucked into the sleeves of the hoodie. "Just my hands," she explained, her voice barely audible.

Without thinking, I reached out and gently took her hands in mine. They were small, soft, and cold to the touch. I wondered what lotion or moisturizer she used to keep them so smooth. She didn't pull away, letting me guide her hands into the warmth of my own pockets. My fingers wrapped around hers, and I could feel the faint pulse of her heartbeat against my palm. It was intimate, almost too intimate, but I couldn't bring myself to let go.

She looked at me, her dark eyes searching mine, and I leaned in a little closer, resting my forehead against hers. I knew I wasn't being subtle—her smirk told me she'd caught on—but I didn't care. "Body contact helps to stay warm," I said, my voice low, offering a flimsy excuse that made her smile widen.

God, she was beautiful. Her smile lit up her entire face, and for a moment, I forgot about everything else. This moment, this warmth between us, was something I'd never forget. I knew her mind was still elsewhere, still worrying about Reid and whatever mess he was tangled up in, but I chose not to focus on that. For now, I just wanted to be here, with her, in this little bubble of warmth and quiet.

"Right," she teased, her voice playful, and I couldn't help but smile. Her breath brushed against my face, and I felt my heart skip a beat. I wanted to stay like this forever, her hands in mine, her forehead against mine, her smile lighting up the room.

But of course, the moment couldn't last.

"Isla?" a voice called, sharp and grating, cutting through the quiet like a knife.

I froze, my heart sinking as I recognized the voice. Of course, we wouldn't have this moment to ourselves. I pulled back slightly, my hands still wrapped around hers, and looked up to see who it was.

Authors note:

This chapter is dedicated to all the Oliver lovers out there. 😂😂😂😂

Made a mood board for y'all too ❤️

I couldn't decide which I liked better so you guys get both. I know I'm spoiling you guys too much 👀