Page 10 of The Other Half

“I like a challenge,” I smirk.

She averts her eyes suddenly, a blush creeping up her cheeks. She probably misinterpreted that sentence. Or maybe I did mean it that way.

“Thank you for letting me come over. Really, it means a lot.” The look of gratitude and peace in her eyes fills my chest with warmth.

“You’re always welcome.”

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure if you liked me much, I mean with the whole being a “spoiled brat” thing and all…” She uses air quotes to emphasize the word spoiled. Suddenly I feel like the biggest prick in the world.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that to you.” I pause, trying to figure out what to say next. “You seem like a good person, and nobody should judge you just because of who your parents are.”

Her lips curve into a slight smile, but I can tell she isn’t convinced by what I said.

Chapter 11

Oakley

I can’t get over how gorgeous he is with his slightly damp hair pushed back out of his face. Even in a pair of sweatpants and a threadbare t-shirt he looks so confident and put together. I’m used to the sullen, aloof version of Oliver, but now I feel like I’m seeing a side of him that I don’t think many people get to witness. A more gentle side that talks about how much he loves his little brother, and illustrates landscapes that look like they should hang in a gallery. No wonder he wanted to do a more challenging art project, he’s an artist. I’m not, my artistic ability is limited to doodling flowers and hearts in the margins of my notebooks.

His room is tiny and dark, the walls are made of plywood paneling, and he only has one small lamp on his desk. There are two twin mattresses lying on the floor on opposite sides of the room, I’m assuming the other one is his brother’s. The purple quilt on his bed reminds me a little bit of mine at home, but it’s a lot more worn. He has a small box TV sitting in the corner of the room that has two antennas sticking out of the top. I can’t explain why, but I love the feeling his room gives me, it makes me nostalgic for something I’ve never experienced.

“If you want to stay over, you can. You can sleep in here or on the couch, whichever you prefer, my brother won’t be home until six.” His lips are full and smooth, and when they move I can barely focus on the words coming out.

I look away, nervous that the look on my face might give away my thoughts. I’ve never even held hands with a boy but right now all I want is to move closer to him, feel the warmth of his body, find out what his skin would feel like touching mine. My whole life I’ve had an aversion to relationships, especially anything sexual. I’m not familiar with the feelings I’m currently experiencing.

“I can’t, I need to get home before my parents wake up. I can find my way though, you don’t have to bring me all the way back, you’ve done enough already-”

“There’s no way I’m letting you walk home by yourself,” he interrupts.

I’m surprised by the protective tone in his voice. It makes my stomach feel all light and fluttery. After another hour of laughing at goofy late night tv together, and listening to stories about him and his brothers, I tell him I need to head home. I don’t want to, but I can’t risk my parents waking up and discovering that I’m not in my bed.

We begin our walk back together, but instead of the awkward silence endured on the first trek, we share a comfortable silence. I wish more than anything that he’d reach for my hand again like he did when we crawled through his window. I debate with myself on whether or not I should reach for his, but I have this gnawing feeling that if he were attracted to me I would be able to tell. I already know that I’m not his type, I’ve seen the girls he hangs out with at school. They’re edgy and loud, and not to mention gorgeous. Hell, for all I know he might even have a girlfriend. Although, I’m sure she wouldn’t be thrilled to know he invited me to his house late at night, but what do I know about relationships anyway?

When we reach the entrance of my neighborhood, he quickly pulls me in for a hug. It’s unexpected, and it takes me a second to realize what’s happening. His chest is warm and solid, and I press my cheek into it, softly wrapping my arms around his torso. The smell of his skin is clean and slightly woodsy. We stay like that for a beat longer than I expect to and I don’t want to let go, but too soon he pulls away and drops his arms to his sides.

Suddenly it feels like I just imagined the hug and it never happened. His cool exterior has returned.

“Well…I’ll see you around, Oakley,” he whispers as he starts to turn around and walk back in the other direction, shoving his hands into his pockets. I walk back up the hill towards my house, wondering what just happened. Did I just imagine the chemistry that I felt between us? Did I do something wrong? Probably.

I quietly unlock my door, and tiptoe up to my room. The house is silent now, my parents must be fast asleep. After I crawl into my bed, I finally allow the guilt to wash over me.

When Oliver told me that his parents got laid off from the mill it just about broke my heart, the look of hopelessness in his eyes as he admitted it to me. I knew about the layoffs, my dad told us when they were doing them. And I know it isn’t my fault that it happened, but I feel somehow indirectly responsible. Dad didn’t seem bothered at all by the layoffs. In fact, he seemed almost amused when he brought it up. I wonder if he was the one that fired Oliver’s parents.

What would he think if he knew my dad was the CFO? Would he hate me? Could I blame him if he did?

The remorseful thoughts swirl around in my head until I eventually drift off into a restless sleep.

Chapter 12

Oliver

I can’t stop thinking about Oakley Matthews. And I have no idea why.

She’s the complete opposite of everything that has ever interested me. I stick with kids from my side of the mountain, and that includes girls. I’ve never had any desire to rub elbows with the rich people. In fact, I fucking hate them. Like the ones who fired my parents, the ones that are the reason we hardly have any food in our pantry right now. Or the ones at school that talk shit about the holes in my shoes.

When I was younger I got picked on for the clothes I wore. Most of my wardrobe has always been hand-me-downs or Goodwill buys. I never cared about that, it never bothered me, until a few kids decided to point it out and make fun of me for it. At the time there wasn’t anything I could do, but as I got older, and grew taller than a lot of the other kids, I started retaliating. It only took a couple good punches in the jaw for people to know not to fuck with me anymore. It got me in trouble, sure, but it worked. Now if they say anything about me they make sure I can’t hear them.

Not only is Oakley from behind enemy lines, she’s also not my type. At all. She’s innocent and reserved. She wears very modest clothing that almost seems immature for a senior in high school. She doesn’t act like most people our age, I’ve never heard her cuss and I can’t imagine her at a party. Every other girl I’ve hooked up with was much the opposite, they’ve always been loud and extroverted, and definitely not innocent.

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