He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Okay, but what if he wasn’t sure you were serious? What if he thought you were just flirting to get a better tip?”
“Then he could’ve asked.” Jules dug their fingertips into their thighs, needing to chill because Ollie was starting to make them regret calling to meet up for coffee.
“Could he?” Ollie gave them a pointed look. “You do this thing, Jules. You flirt like it’s a joke and then act surprised when people don’t take you seriously.”
Jules leaned back, arms crossed. “I do not.”
“You do. You put up this whole damn force field of sarcasm and glitter and ‘I’m too cool to care,’ but then you get upset when someone doesn’t see through it.”
“That’s not fair,” Jules muttered, but the words tasted defensive.
Maybe because he wasn’t wrong.
Ollie softened. “I’m not trying to be a jerk. I just know what it’s like to want someone and be too scared to admit it. But you shouldn’t turn down a safe place to live because you’re afraid of an incurable case of feelings.”
Jules stared at their tea like it held the answers to life, the universe, and their rapidly unraveling housing situation.
“It’s not a crush,” they said finally, voice quiet. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“How?”
“Because he’s…him. And I’m me. And living with someone you’re into when they don’t feel the same way is a recipe for heartbreak. I’d last five days, max. I’d leave a sock on the floor or forget to rinse my mug, and he’d start labeling the condiments. And I’d spiral. And then I’d fall harder, and he’d be too nice to ever say anything, even though I was driving him crazy. And I’d hate myself.”
The silence dragged on, Ollie’s gaze filled with concern. Then, “You know what I think?”
“Do I want to?”
“I think you’re afraid.”
“Well, yeah,” Jules snapped, sharper than they intended. “Of course I’m afraid. I’m losing my home. I have nowhere to go.My parents are moving halfway across the country, and I’m supposed to just—what? Be thrilled about playing roommate roulette with someone who’s everything I’m not?” They dragged a hand through their hair. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get snippy.”
With a wave, Ollie shrugged. “You’re allowed. This sucks.”
“Yeah,” Jules whispered. “It really does.”
He leaned in, voice low but steady. “Do the hard thing, Jules. You might surprise yourself.”
Jules stared at him. “You sound like a therapist.”
“I read romance novels. All my best advice comes from there.”
Despite everything, Jules laughed. It came out a little cracked, but it was real.
Ollie grinned. “That’s better. You were starting to look like a tragic indie film.”
Jules rolled their eyes but didn’t argue. They wiped their fingers on a napkin, then stood and grabbed their bag. “I should go. I told Paige I’d swing by the community center to help set up.” There was a teacher in-service this afternoon, so they were having a themed art workshop for the kids. They were going to create papier-mâché sea animals for the library. Jules was excited to see what the kids came up with. Maybethatwould be what kicked him out of this funk.
“Don’t forget to hydrate,” Ollie called after them. “And maybe text Keaton.”
“Not happening.”
“Yet,” Ollie muttered with a smirk.
Jules flipped him off affectionately as they backed out the door.
Outside, the breeze was cool and carried the faint scent of spring flowers in bloom. Jules let it wash over them, grounding themselves in the moment.
They walked slowly toward the community center, Ollie’s words echoing in their head.
