Page 3 of Doesn't Count

He stops in his tracks and spins on his heels. “Why does that make me a weirdo? People hike all the time, what makes this different?”

“Alone?” I argue. “That makes you either a murderer or a potential victim. Both make you crazy.”

“Oh, shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “You’ve known me forever and you know I’m not crazy.”

“I’m not so sure anymore.” I mumble.

Oliver laughs, shoving into me with his side playfully before his brown eyes catch mine with a look of uncertainty that makes me uneasy. His hand slowly brushes my fingers before taking my hand and pulling me along again. We make our way, climbing over bulging tree roots and hopping over puddles of mud. It feels like we continue deeper into the woods for another twenty minutes before we hear a noise that sounds like static.

We push past one last set of branches from a tall bush and find the most beautiful creek. Clear running water rushes over a bed of rocks, little fish swimming in between.

“Wow.” I breath.

“Not so weird anymore, am I?” He nudges me with his elbow.

“I stand by what I said.”

He chuckles as he sits on the damp grass near the water. Unlike the rest of the forest, there’s an abundance of light that reflects off the water, glistening and brightening up the area. It’s a relief to feel the sun again, since it’s only late afternoon.

Oliver removes his shoes and I do the same, dipping our toes in the warm water.

“Can I ask you something?” He tilts his head to the side to glance at me before refocusing on the water.

“Shoot.”

“Why do you care so much about what other people think of you?”

I open my mouth to answer, but struggle with the words. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to try so hard. Everyone likes you. They don’t care about your outfits or your hair.”

A small smile finds my lips. “High school is going to be different. It’s not going to be as easy as it was. There’s always going to be people that don’t like you, no matter where you go, so it’s best that you start off on the right foot.”

He shrugs, “If you have me, why do you care if people don’t like you?”

“I guess it’s not just people, Oliver.”

“What do you mean?”

I take a deep breath, trying to figure out how to say this without sounding pathetic. “Boys.”

“Boys?”

“I want boys to like me.” I mumble, embarrassed.

He shoves a hand through his shaggy, brown hair.

“I like you.” He finally says after a long pause.

I roll my eyes, laughing, but stop when I notice his brows scrunching together.

“I meant other boys. Boys that I can date.” I clarify.

“Not this again.” He groans.

“Look, I want what I want!” I laugh as he shakes his head. “I want that first kiss I’ve only read about.”

“You read too much. First kisses like the ones in books don’t exist. They’re made up, exaggerated.”

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