Page 88 of Tilly in Technicolor
But, it’s a job—one that keeps me in London, no less—and that’s really all that matters… right?
Plus, I still get to write the newsletter and some of the descriptions for colors—although it took a lot of coaxing to get Mona to agree to a rather innuendo-filled blurb for an eggplant purple—so I at least get to flex the writing muscle. Most of all, I’m feeling useful. I’m helping Mona and Amina reachtheirdream, even if this role isn’t necessarily mine.
And I’m not about to look a gift job in the paycheck, especially one that gives me a chance to live close to Oliver. Wehadn’t ever discussed it, but I had this dark, looming fear that if I ended up having to go back to Cleveland, it would have meant an end to what we have. I mean, what eighteen-year-old guy would want to deal with a girlfriend living in a different country? It would be messy, and Ollie doesn’t deal in messes.
But now, it’s not even on our radar, and we’re blissed out on our sturdy future.
“Got everything?” Ollie asks, zipping up his perfectly packed suitcase, knowing full well that 80 percent of my things are still strewn about the hotel room.
“Never felt more organized in my life,” I lie, sticking my tongue out at him. He gives me a skeptical glance that makes me giggle.
I start walking around the room, trying to figure out where to start. I tend to take out everything in my suitcase when I get somewhere. If I can’t see it, it’s like it doesn’t exist, and my brain feels better when I’m able to visualize what I have. It does me absolutely no favors when it comes to packing up, though.
I do laps around piles of clothes in one corner, shoes in another. Cheap jewelry littered here. Even cheaper makeup there.
It’s not surprising that my aimless walking eventually turns into pacing—stimming in response to the cloud of overwhelm hovering above my head.
What is surprising is realizing that Ollie is also pacing, his fingers tapping at his sides and face lined in deep concentration. It stops me in my tracks, a little smile breaking across my mouth. We’re two neurodivergent tornados spinning around this hotel room.
On his next pass by me, I grab his hand, pulling him close to my chest as I wrap him in a hard hug. He’s tense—short waves of stress radiate off his shoulders—then every musclein his body relaxes like a released rubber band. He hugs me back.
“You okay?” I ask against his chest.
I feel his nod on the top of my head. “I got a bit stuck in my thoughts,” he says. “Overwhelmed.”
“I noticed,” I say, pulling back. I grab his hand and place a quick kiss to his palm. The smile that blooms across Ollie’s mouth is prettier than a rose opening its petals to the summer sun. “But you know what they say.”
He tilts his head in question.
“Couples that stim together stay together.”
Ollie’s silent for a moment, then laughs so hard he starts to wheeze. There is nothing,nothing,in this world I love more than making Oliver laugh.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask when his laughter dies down, lacing my fingers through his.
Oliver blows out a breath as he drags his free hand through his hair. “A change in environment makes me a bit on edge as I lead up to it.”
“Do you not like traveling, then?” I ask.
“No, I do,” he says. “I really do. But I struggle with change, even when I’m excited about it. It takes me time to adjust to new places. Or even just the idea of them. And today while I was packing up, I think it started to hit me that school will be starting soon. And that will be even more new environments to navigate. And people and social interactions. I guess…” He blows out another breath. “I guess I’m a bit nervous.”
My heart swells up like a balloon in my chest, and I crush Oliver to me again, wrapping my limbs around him like an aggressive (and oh so loving) python. “I will, quite literally, kill anyone that causes you any issues.”
Oliver laughs, and tries to pull back to look at me, but I hold him even tighter. He easily gives in.
“You’d make a great bodyguard,” he says. “All five foot four of you. But I’m not necessarily worried about people, I don’t know, bullying me, or the like. I can’t control how they act and God knows I can’t anticipate it. It’s more the unknown of change. The disruption of my routine. Need a bit to wrap my head around it all. Prepare for what’s coming so I can accommodate it.”
I eventually release him from my death-love-grip.
“I get that, I think,” I say, picking at my nails. “My struggle comes with thinking about and organizing all that goes into a change. Like the steps I need to do to get there. If that makes any sense.”
“It does,” Oliver says. “Speaking of, do you want help organizing…” He gestures vaguely at the chaos of my stuff around us.
“My, my, Oliver. You certainly know how to make a girl swoon,” I say, fanning myself.
He blushes bright red and he’s so cute I could die.
I start off trying to help Ollie help me pack, but I end up disrupting his system and he shoos me away.
