3
Coffee
Olive’s flat in Turnham Green wasn’t large, but it was big enough for her. In those rare moments when Olive might complain about its size, her cast mates would gently remind her that she’d been able to buy her own place when she had been only twenty-two whilst therest of them still rented. But she’d worked hard and saved and now any leftover money she had was spent on doing the place up to reflect her own personality as much as possible. The walls were painted green, her furniture was oak and signed posters of the shows she’d been a part of hung in ornate silver frames in every room. For Olive, knowing she could come home to her own space and her own bedmade her not want to waste a moment getting the Tube after work. However, since meeting Oscar, spending time at work had become more and more enticing.
On this particular morning, Olive awoke with a definite ‘morning after the night before’ feeling. She wasn’t hungover and she didn’t have that horrible ‘what have I done?’ dread – after all, the only thing that had occurred was a kiss, anda good one at that. But something had changed. A connection had been established between her and Oscar that was more than just their onstage chemistry, and Olive’s brain was whirring with wondering What It Meant. She poured herself a cup of tea and spoke out loud in her kitchen, mentally laying out every scenario before her.
‘Was it just… a mistake? He was a bit drunk. But not so drunkthat he didn’t know what he was doing, I don’t think…’ Olive stirred her tea without looking until the teabag had made the water far darker than she usually liked. ‘Do I mention what happened when I see him today? And if I do mention it, will it happen again? Or does it mean that itwon’thappen again?’
Olive opened the fridge to get the milk and noticed last week’s edition ofBurnmagazinesat on the kitchen counter. On the corner of the cover, a little yellow circle with a picture in the middle caught her eye and she flipped to page sixteen to read the rest of the story.
And there he was. On a beach with his top off holding hands with Zadie Lanette. Her smile was wide, as if she was mid-laugh, but Olive noticed that Oscar’s didn’t quite reach his eyes. And whilst Zadie clungto his bicep with what looked like unnecessary strength, Oscar’s gaze was focused only on the sand at his feet. ‘Do Iwantit to happen again…? Why are you even asking that? Of course, you want it to happen again. The real question is, does he?’
Little did Olive know that wasn’t a question that needed to be asked.
Over in Bow, Oscar sat up in his bed, sipping his black coffee with Google open on his laptop.
‘Olive Green…’ he said as he typed. ‘No, I don’t want Dulux paint swatches… Olive Green, Actress. Ah, here we go.’ Oscar clicked onImages. ‘Wow.’ Olive was almost unrecognisable in some of the pictures but in most, Oscar could make out her distinctive green eyes. Olivehad played four roles since college, with each one being bigger than the last. And if her adult career seemed impressive, it was nothing in comparison to the acting work she’d done as a child. She was certainly building up a bold body of work and judging by the rave reviews she received it would only continue to grow. Oscar shook his head as he read through a list of her special talents. Horse-riding.Juggling. Grade six piano. ‘Is there anything this girl can’t do?’
Olive arrived at the theatre earlier than she would have liked and sat in the auditorium twiddling her thumbs. The dressing rooms were stilloccupied by the cast ofGone With The Windand she would have to wait until their final week of rehearsals before she could bring in her pictures and keepsakes that travelled with her to every theatre she performed in. Olive couldn’t wait until the theatre started to feel like home rather than visiting someone else’s house. She pulled her phone out of her bag, but the signal wasn’t good enoughto browse social media and she was yet to ask for the wifi password. She rummaged through her bag to see if she had anything else that would help pass the time, but in her haste that morning she’d forgotten to bring her headphones and her book that she’d purposely placed on the kitchen counter.
‘What is it they say about the early bird?’ said Oscar, loitering in the doorway to the stageleft stalls. He held a coffee in each hand.
‘Something about catching the worm but really I’m just in it for the best seat in the house.’
‘And the free coffee?’ he asked, walking along the row behind Olive’s and handing her the larger of the two drinks.
‘Oooh, you can stay,’ she said, taking the warm paper cup from him, removing the lid and peering inside.
‘It’s a latte,’he said, flipping one of the seats down and sitting diagonally behind her. ‘I was a few people behind you in line at the coffee shop across the road the other day and heard you order one.’
‘Stalker,’ she said, reaching into her bag with one hand, careful not to spill her lidless latte.
‘I’m sure lots of other people in the cast would happily take a free latte!’
‘Yes, but thisone literally has my name on it.’ Olive pulled out a bottle of honey and expertly squeezed a long and oozing dollop into her drink. ‘And my honey in it.’ She smiled, putting the bottle back into her bag and the lid back onto her drink.
‘Honey? Really?’ He raised an eyebrow.
‘Yes, really. And don‘t call me honey!’ She was trying to be cool, but inside her stomach fluttered at theidea of him actually calling her ‘honey’ like it was the most natural thing in the world.
‘Well, we’ve kissed now, so I feel like I know you well enough to call you honey, don’t I?’
Oh god, he’s mentioned it, Olive thought, her jumper suddenly feeling clingy and hot.
‘I think that’s for me to decide, isn’t it?’ she said from behind the lip of her coffee cup before taking agentle sip.
‘Would you decide to kiss me again if the option was there?’ Oscar said, a little too fast. He swept his dark hair back off his face but looked her directly in the eyes, waiting patiently for her response.
‘Depends if the optionisthere…’ Olive said, not able to keep the smile from creeping onto her face. Oscar immediately shuffled himself onto the edge of his seat,placed his hand under her jawline and gently pulled her towards him. Without reluctance, Olive let him guide her to his lips. She could almost feel the electricity between them fizz on her tongue and the more they kissed, the more she wanted, but Oscar pulled away far too soon. He looked to the door into the auditorium.
‘I guess…’ he winced, ‘I guess there’s no easy way to say that I don’treally want everyone knowing about this…’
‘I get it,’ Olive said, pulling back and fiddling with the edge of her coffee cup.
‘You do?’
‘Yeah, of course. It’s new. Even we’ve not had a proper conversation about what this is… or what this isn’t.’
