Olivia's POV
When we'd finished eating, I began gathering plates. Adrian pushed his chair back with a small sigh of contentment.
"I should drop by Mr. Weiss's shop," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "He asked me to fix that old lantern, remember? If I don't give it back tonight, I'll forget again, and he'll give me that disappointed grandpa look for a week."
I smiled. "You've been promising him all month."
"I know, I know," he groaned. "I'll be quick."
He stood and leaned over to press a light kiss to my temple. "Don't be scared, okay? Noah's here. You're not alone."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm not five, Adrian."
Adrian laughed, waved once, and headed out the door. The sound of the car starting and rolling away faded into the soft hum of the evening.
I collected the rest of the plates and brought them into the kitchen. The familiar rhythm of running water, clinking dishes, and the faint creak of the old faucet took over. Behind me, I could sense Noah still in the living room, the low rustle of fabric as he shifted on the couch.
Noah's POV
From the couch, I could see straight into the kitchen. Olivia stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up slightly, hands moving through soapy water. The overhead light cast a soft glow on her hair, on the curve of her cheek when she turned her head just a little.
It wasn't the first time I'd watched her like this.
My mind slipped back six years without asking my permission.
[Flashback]
I first met Olivia in university. I was a clueless freshman trying not to get lost; she was a second-year student assigned to pass out brochures during the orientation.
She laughed easily, greeted everyone like she already knew them, and smiled like there wasn't a single place she'd rather be.
I was standing off to the side, pretending to read a map I didn't understand, when someone bumped into me.
"Sorry!" a voice said.
I looked up. It was her.
She handed me a brochure, still smiling. "First year?"
"Is it that obvious?" I asked.
"A little," she giggled.
"Where are you headed?"
"Arts and Sciences department," I replied. "Some orientation thing."
Her eyes brightened. "Oh! We're in the same department. I can walk you there if you want."
I hesitated for half a second, then nodded. "Yeah. That'd be great."
We walked together, and along the way she asked my name, my major, and where I was from. I learned she was taking Chemistry, which sounded terrifying, and that she thought artists had "the coolest notebooks."
I laughed. "You might change your mind if you see mine. It's just paint stains and half-finished ideas."
"That's what makes it interesting," she said with a grin.
We kept bumping into each other after that. In the cafeteria, outside the library, on the steps near the fountain.
Sometimes it was coincidence.
Sometimes I made sure it wasn't.
"Again?" she'd say, laughing. "Are you following me?"
"If I say yes, do I get arrested?"
"Yes," she'd teasingly reply. "But I might bring you snacks in jail."
Little conversations turned into longer ones. We talked about professors, art, the smell of chemicals in lab rooms, the best cheap food outside campus, what we wanted to do after graduating. Somewhere along the way, the simple comfort of her presence became the background of my days.
And then, without meaning to, I fell for her.
Hard.
I never told her. Every time I thought about asking her out, something stopped me—fear, mostly. Fear that I'd lose what I already had, that she'd start avoiding me.
So I kept it inside.
I told myself it was better this way.
Better to be close as a friend than far as a stranger.
And it was the start of the biggest mistake of my life—letting the feelings stay hidden.
[End of flashback]
"…Noah?"
Her voice shook me fully back.
I straightened slightly. "Hm?"
She glanced over her shoulder, eyes curious. "I was talking to you. You didn't hear a word, did you?"
I feigned confusion. "Sorry, what did you say?"
She giggled, the sound soft and familiar. "I was asking what you think of Wrenford. You looked so serious I thought you were planning an escape route."
I laughed. "Comforting."
She chuckled and went back to rinsing a plate.
Her laugh still sounded the same.
I stood and walked toward the kitchen.
"What are you doing?" she asked, glancing at me with a raised brow.
"Being useful," I said, rolling up my sleeves.
"You're a guest," she protested lightly. "Guests don't wash dishes."
"Let me feel domestic for five minutes."
Before she could argue, I nudged her gently with my shoulder, shifting her aside just enough to reach the drying rack.
"Hey," she laughed, "excuse you."
I grinned. "You can rinse, I'll dry. Teamwork."
She shook her head but didn't move away. "Fine. But if you break a plate, you're buying us a new set."
"Threat noted."
We fell into a rhythm—she washed, I dried. The clink of ceramic, the low hum of the faucet, and the occasional scrape of a fork against the sink filled the small kitchen.
"Do you miss it?" I asked suddenly. "The city"
"Sometimes," she admitted. "Sometimes not. Crystal Bay's great for inspiration. Terrible for breathing."
"I used to think that too," I said. "Then I got used to it. Kind of like getting used to turpentine fumes. Not good for you, but you forget after a while."
She laughed. "That's a horrible comparison."
"Accurate, though."
There was a brief pause before she spoke again, her tone softening just a little. "I'm glad you're here, Noah. Adrian really missed you."
I looked at her profile, the way her expression went fond when she mentioned him. "I missed him too," I replied.
I meant it.
But some part of me—the old, selfish part—added silently:
And I missed you more than I should have.
I swallowed the thought and focused on the plate in my hands.
"Thanks for having me," I said instead. "Both of you."
"Anytime," she replied.
She giggled again, and it tugged at something deep in my chest.
Same laugh. Different life.
I smiled despite myself, remembering late library nights and walking her back to her dorm under campus lights. Back then, helping her with something simple—carrying books, sharing notes, making her laugh—had felt like enough.
Standing there now, drying dishes in her kitchen while she rinsed beside me, it almost felt that way again.
Almost.