32: Your Rooms Are Ready

I can't breathe, I'm laughing so hard. Inhale.

"So you're telling me," Maddy laughs, cutting off her sentence, "That the football coach and the cheer coach are getting it on?"

"Like donkey kong," Grayson laughs.

We've been sitting in the same spots for the whole night. I don't even know the time but if I had to guess it's way past midnight.

At some point in the night, I curled up against Oliver with my hand drawing lazy circles on his thigh. I was flushed against his chest while his arm was draped around my shoulder. He looked relaxed, much more relaxed than his usual state. His stone cold face was replaced by a light smile, even if it didn't always reach his eyes.

Oliver turns to me when he stops laughing at the idea of the coaches getting caught in the locker room like some teenagers.

"Cookie?"

I nod, getting up, "I'll get them."

I pull myself up and away from Oliver's warmth. I stumble getting up, it'd been a couple of hours since I'd last used my legs.

I walk to the pool table that was covered in different, delicately made desserts. Grayson had said something about a private chef, but I thought he was kidding. He, in fact, was not. I look around at all the different options, making sure I chose a cookie that didn't have any chocolate in it. I didn't want to ruin Oliver's good mood.

I look up to catch Tyler on the other side of the pool table. He was staring at me with a beers between his lips. I remember the fight between Tyler and Oliver. My curiosity must show because Tyler gives me a sly smile before speaking up.

"Go ahead, ask why."

I shake my head, "I trust Oliver had his reasons."

My words shock even me at first. Trust is something I have little of so I'm not exactly giving it away left and right. It took me time to even trust Levi completely. But here I am, saying the words. I do trust Oliver Grey.

I'm still curious about the fight, the details of it. Oliver had told me that Tyler had insulted me somehow and that's why he punched him. I never asked more about it. I am still curious about what insult could have been so bad that it caused Oliver to punch his friend.

He laughs a little, "He never told you why he punched me, did he?"

I say nothing and try to keep my eyes concentrated on the food in front of me. Tyler makes his way around the table and stands beside me, his voice going down to a whisper so that no one else can hear him.

"Hazel the prude is auditioning to be a cheerleader. She'll probably faint at the sight of the uniforms."

My eyes shoot to his when he says the words that caused the fight between them. I look to Oliver quickly and then back to Tyler. Tyler speaks up again before I have a chance to say anything.

"I guess I should say sorry to you."

My eyes widen in surprise at the sincerity that comes with his words. Tyler wants to apologize to me? I close my mouth that was hanging open from the surprise and give him a short nod.

"You're actually cool and I was rude, even if it wasn't to your face," He gives me a small smile, "So, uhh," He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, "Sorry, Hazel."

I can't stay mad at Tyler. At the end of the day, he did apologize for his rude words. Not that I hadn't heard that one before. But he tried to make amends and do the right thing. Everyone deserves a second chance, especially if they're willing to work for it.

I smile to him, "Thanks, Tyler."

He gives me a nod and raises his beer to me before walking off back to the group. I look back to the cookies and grab two for Oliver and two for me.

Oliver opens his arm when I walk back so that I can curl up beside him again. He gives me a small side hug when I'm settled in again. His hand reaches out and takes the cookies with a smile on his face at the sight of them.

"Snickerdoodle, my favorite."

I look to him and smile, biting into my own peanut butter cookie. He finishes both of them in the time I finish one.

"You want my other one?" I ask him, holding up the cookie.

"Just a bite."

He looks at the cookie for a second before leaning forward and taking a bite out of it. My mouth falls open when I see that half my cookie is gone. My mouth is still open when I look to Oliver.

"I thought you said a bite?"

He shrugs and squeezes me with his arm. I giggle at him and squirm as he keeps squeezing me.

"I have a big appetite," He whispers down to me so that only I can hear.

I giggle more at his words. I love my hand to his chest so that I can push away enough that Oliver stops squeezing me so tightly. Sure, I loved the feeling of being so close to him, but as a human I need my lungs intact to breathe.

"Your rooms are ready," I catch Grayson saying.

He stands up and grabs some keys that were on a shelf. They each have a little keychain with a name on them. I can't help but feel like I'm at a hotel all of a sudden.

"Ryder and Maddy, your married old couple suite as always," Grayson bows and hands them a key.

"Chad, your bro cave," Another bow from Grayson.

I look to Oliver, confused at what's going on. I must have missed the memo where Grayson Adams' house became a hotel for teenagers. And the whole boeing thing was throwing me off as well.

"Tyler, the football themed room," Grayson bows again, "I got the projector in there so you can watch the old games."

"Adams, this is why we're friends," Tyler laughs and gives Grayson one of those bro hugs.

"And Oliver, your usual."

Oliver receives a key and a bow from Grayson. Grayson then turns around and addresses everybody with a fake British accent.

"Breakfast will be served promptly at 8:30am," and then he drops his accent, "Off you go, hooligans."

I smile at the whole scenario and turn to face Oliver. He doesn't say anything and doesn't give me the chance to speak before grabbing my hand and pulling me along. The house gets more complicated as I let Oliver pull me left and right through the halls. I don't even know where we are anymore, I just know we went up some stairs at some point.

"What is this?" I ask Oliver when he stops in front of a door.

Oliver's name is written on a gold plaque that hangs in the center of the door. He smiles as he unlocks the door of the room.

"Welcome to casa de Oliver."

I walk in to find a perfectly decorated room. It's dark blue and white all around. The large bed is in the center, covered with silk linens. The walls have pictures of friends and the posters of our school's football championships. I look at the posters first. Freshman through Junior year are hanged in chronological order. Oliver and Grayson, the two star players, are in the middle of all of the pictures. I shift to look at the pictures. Each one was him and a friend. He looked happy in all of them, a smile played on his lips like he was caught mid laugh.

One picture in particular catches my eye. I walk up to it and stare at the third graders staring back. Oliver had his arms around a girl that had whipped cream all over her. My mouth drops when I remember that day of third grade.

I turn to Oliver who's leaning on the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. He's looking at me with a small smile.

"That's me," I point to the picture and then turn back around to face it.

I hear Oliver walking towards me and his arms wrap around me from behind. He presses his chest against my back lightly. I place my arms over his but continue staring at the picture.

"You were always my friend, Haze."

I turn around, still in his arms. Wrapping my own arms around him, I look up to his face. He speaks up, still looking at the picture of us.

"On the worst day of my life someone told me they believed in me and that I was stronger than I thought," His eyes come down to mine and he stares at me intently, "That's why she gets to go on the wall."

I pull him in closer, hugging him tightly. He squeezes back and leans his head on top of mine. I feel his heart beating quickly against his chest and I know mine is beating just the same.

Junior year I had said those words to a kid crying in the janitor's closet. What I failed to realize was that it was Oliver crying in there. His mother had just died and the school was gossiping about it just as bad as the newspaper. No one could understand his feelings, no one was trying to. And when he couldn't hold it in any longer, he hid away in the janitor's closet to let it all out.

He might have a reputation of being a bad boy. Not caring about much in life and always being the best at it anyway. But everyone failed to realize that bad boys do cry.