a/n: just 'cause sam/freddie aren't that different from fletcher & olive —who are both adorable, :) lowercase for no reason. for amelia (cinnamon countess) who loves folive.
dare yourself to play these games
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on the first sunday of may, she receives three dark blue envelopes on her doorstep, addressed to miss olive daphne doyle, with three red roses and a white bridal singing doll. she sighs, slams the door, throws away the wilting roses which kinda smell like hamburger, but keeps the dark blue envelopes.
.
the first day she feels the need to mark her territory is the day another girl that she's the most beautiful person that he's ever seen —coincidentally, this same girl is chyna parks, also known as the best friend, the one who's probably always there for them.
which is why she's officially the worst best friend, ever.
on birthday day though, she doesn't even feel the slightest bit guilty as she tells chyna to lie of the fact that she has a boyfriend, but she still manages to feel bad enough to set their double date up. "hey, angus?" a "triple" date that really doesn't go that well to plan when his girlfriend turns out to be his babysitter, and chyna's boyfriend is an actor, but angus still, sadly, and apparently is in love with her.
(man, this is messed-up)
.
"you just can't accept the idea of chyna and i being a couple, can you?" he questions her when she's in a conversation with violet, who's probably the only person who knows that she likes him, and comes to her save, brandishing her knife shoes at a fletcher who squirms away.
she sighs, knowing that there's really no way that she'll find a way to accept it; perhaps she could change herself, yet lately things were changing, and she couldn't help but know that she was doing this. she still likes to believe that him and her, they have the stronger bond, 'cause there were places that they would go, secrets that nobody else would know, and even now, they still bury those secrets in the bottom of their hearts.
.
so, she ends up walking away from everything again, because sometimes she just can't handle it: it's like her brain's about to explode, and sometimes she just wished that it would, that she could just run away because she wouldn't ever had to face fletcher, then. fletcher and chyna were finally official, according to violet, who had angrily announced it that morning.
(olive had never liked violet more)
chyna liked fletcher, and fletcher liked chyna, and she liked fletcher, and violet liked fletcher, and angus liked her, and angus also liked parmesan cheese and bacon trucks. she walks over to angus, who's modeling on his computer runway.
"angus? i have a proposal." he looks excited for a moment, and she almost feels bad for him 'cause nobody knows unrequited love better than her. still, she stops him, 'cause there would be nothing worse than leading him on. "not a wedding one."
"i know that," he replies, not looking up until she flashes bacon in front of him. "you're totally in love with fletcher, and he's totally in love with chyna, and actually, i'm not totally in love with you anymore. i'm not that stupid. god, olive."
olive sits there for the next ten minutes, ignoring the fact that they actually have class, and they just can't spend the rest of their lives sitting on the couch (no matter how comfortable it is), because for once, she wishes that everything would go back to normal, how it used to be. but it can't because the clock won't turn back no matter how many times she'll try to break time.
.
the time that they [tenthnofifteenthno] twenty-third kiss, are not ready to admit that their actions and all the ones before weremmaybe, just maybe, not quite accidental. she smells like strawberries, and everything sweet and innocent, and he smells like liquor. she starts to get up at midnight, her blond hair flapping through the wind as she doesn't even turn back to look at his face 'cause she knows that if she'd ever ask him to take anything off of his place, she would be the first one to go. nevertheless, she looks back and he's not even looking at her anymore.
"so, do we just break up?" she asks. there really isn't anyway else to say the question.
he frowns. "—i guess," he replies, but he turns away because there's no way he's going to cry in front of her, since even though they're totally in love, he knows her too well that she'll grab the opportunity to make fun of him, but that's kinda why he loves her too.
.
she sees him again at hungry hippo's, who's recently remodeled into a yoga shop, with a pretty girl (because those are his type, and she isn't pretty), holding hands as they laugh, taking a picture while they kiss eating a single strand of spaghetti until their lips meet and she just wishes that she could move on from standing in front of that shop, but she can't, because she knows that this is her one chance. the pretty girl isn't chyna, and it's not violet —like that would ever happen. it's some other person, who looks as though she's the happiest girl in the world, and fletcher looks like the happiest guy in the world, and even though the doofus broke her heart, olive just wants everybody to be happy. so, she walks away.
.
"chyna's right. this isn't going to work out. do you think that we're just forcing herself into some messed-up relationship, when we're just better at being just friends," she looks into the distance, "an interesting factoid about being just friends: according to most teenage and young adult mov—"
he cuts her off with a kiss, and for exactly seventeen seconds they're in bliss and all she notices that he tastes like pineapple and hamburger cologne. "i still hate you," he reminds her, a teasing grin on his face.
"i hate you, too."