Olivia and the Older Boy: Young Adult Sweet Romance (Love in Ocean Grove Book 5)

by Anna Catherine Field

  “Oh, I’m totally offended,” I reply. We sit at the stop sign for a few moments while I try to figure out what to do, where we can go. Then the answer pops in my mind. It’s perfect.

  “Where are we going?” she asks as I turn the truck around.

  “On the perfect picnic,” I say. Hopefully once I’m finished, maybe she’ll realize that jerks like Spencer really aren’t worth it.

  14

  Olivia

  As Ben drives God-knows-where, I sit pressed against the car door wishing more than anything I could just go home. Being taken on a pity-picnic by your surrogate big brother so your mother won’t find out you’re a lying liar may be a new low.

  And I’ve had some really big lows.

  I haven’t even paid attention to where we’re going, so when Ben pulls the car down a side road and under a brightly lit sign that says "Ocean Grove Drive-In", I’m taken by surprise.

  “The drive-in?”

  “Every Friday, screen three has a horror movie.”

  A tiny flutter stretches in my chest. “What’s playing?”

  “Carrie.”

  He pulls up to the little booth where a guy is selling tickets. He holds up some cash and pays for our car. He drives through the vast parking lot—there’s four screens, three playing new releases, and one reserved for old movies. He parks the truck so that the back is facing the screen. Grabbing the basket and a few blankets Ben conveniently had stashed behind the seats, we head to the bed of the truck.

  “You know Trevor Salvatore took my sister here on a date one time,” I say, watching him spread out the blankets.

  “Oh yeah?” he asks innocently. I’m not sure if he knows this or not.

  “It was a pretty slick move. Almost stole her right out from under Gabe’s nose. He plied her with nostalgia and candy.”

  “Huh.” He climbs up and then offers me a hand. I stare at it for moment but then take it, letting him pull me up. He’s strong and he pulls me right into his chest. “Your sister does love candy. It’s like her kryptonite.”

  I sit on the blanket, dragging over the picnic basket my mother prepared. She went all out by making turkey sandwiches on thick, flakey bread, side dishes of deviled eggs, salad, and fruit. Packed in the bottom is a tin of her famous peanut butter and chocolate cookies. It’s all a testimony of how much she likes Ben and approves of me hanging out with him. It’s pretty much a stamp of how desperate she thinks I am.

  After getting ditched by Spencer, she’s probably right.

  Ben eats three cookies before we even get everything out of the basket.

  “Remember that time your mom made all the cookies for the school bake sale and burned half of them? Gabe and I decided they were still good and ate them all in one sitting.”

  I don’t remember this. “Were they good?”

  “Maybe at first, but there’s only so much charred sugar you can eat before you want to barf.”

  I unwrap my sandwich and laugh. “You know, one reason I thought you were the best when we were kids is that you always talked about gross stuff. Barf. Poop. Gas. My mother did not approve of 'potty humor.' I thought you were such a rebel.”

  We’re on opposite sides of the truck, facing one another, both our backs against the side. His legs are outstretched. Mine are criss-cross. “I always said my charming personality was my secret weapon,” he says, taking a huge bite of the sandwich. “I should have realized my rebellious nature was the key to winning over little girls in hats.”

  My eyes widen. “Don’t even.”

  “Oh, I will.” His smile is infectious when I’m trying to act offended. “You wore that hat with the kitty cat ears for years.”

  “In my defense, I wanted to be a cat. Is there anything wrong with that?”

  He stares blankly at me and I pop a grape in my mouth. “You were a little girl, Liv, not a cat. Of course there’s something wrong with that. I mean, cats are filthy animals.”

  “That is completely untrue.”

  He shrugs. “I always thought that hat was cute. Why did you stop wearing it?”

  I eat an egg and then some bread. Ben looks at me expectantly. I relent. “My mom made me.”

  “But it made you so happy?”

  “It seemed that way, but I don’t know. I think it was just a way for me to hide from stuff.”

  “What kind of stuff?”

  “People. Feelings. Anxiety. I pulled on that hat, became a cat, and slipped away. It worked, until it didn’t.”

  Other cars pull into the lot. It’s more crowded than I’d expect. I’ve only been here a few times when I was younger, and Norah begged to come. I ask Ben about the hauling business and if there have been any more parties next door. He says it’s been pretty quiet.

  “Can I ask a question?”

  “You can, and if you’re lucky, I’ll consider answering it.”

  “Why do you want to go out with a tool-bag like Spencer?”

  I make a face. That definitely falls under things I don’t want to answer, but in this very moment I feel safe, like we’re in a bubble. It leads me to confess, “He’s cute in that broody, sarcastic kind of way. He didn’t go to my weirdo, hippie school, but he’s also not from Ocean Grove High. He doesn’t know Norah or anything about me other than what I’ve shared on my terms, in group.” I stretch out my legs and our skin briefly touches, before I pull back. “Everything over the last few years has been a nonstop battle with my mom. Where I go to school, who I hang out with, therapy, medication, group, work.” I laugh darkly. “Look at this? She couldn’t even let me go to a concert without inserting herself with all this food. She has control issues.”

  “And she can’t control Spencer.”

  “I don’t think anyone can control Spencer, which is admittedly both enticing and scary.”

  “I get the feeling your mom can’t handle being scared much more, Liv.”

  “Which is why she’d rather me go to the concert with an older, yet completely safe boy that she trusts.” I shake my head. “I mean, that’s how crazy I’ve made her. Most moms would not think pairing up their seventeen-year-old daughter with a cute college-avoider would be a good idea.”

  He laughs. “You broke her.”

  “Maybe I did.” Surprise tears prick at my eyes and I try to blink them away. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

  He reaches out and tentatively touches my shoulder, grazing his thumb over the wide, pale scar on my arm. “I think she was more worried about you hurting yourself.”

  I start to pull away, but he doesn’t let me. I look up at him and he holds my eye. “I hate them. I hate what I did. I hate that I barely remember it, and I hate that I can’t erase them.” I start to look away but he touches my chin with his other hand and holds it so I can’t. My voice wavers. “I got so lost, Ben. So lost, and I know in my mind it was the medication. I get that, but there was something dark inside of me that kept pushing and pushing. I don’t know if I would have stopped, and,” a sob chokes out, “what if it happens again?”

  The look he gives me is so sad, so anguished, and I feel awful for dumping my pain on him. Again, I twist to move away, but he holds on, sliding across the bed of the truck until he’s close enough to wrap his arms around me. I bury my face in his shoulder, embarrassed and ashamed.

  “You always have us, Liv,” he says quietly, stroking my back. “Not just your parents, but Norah and Gabe. And if they’re too close and you feel like you’re getting lost again you have me, understand?”

  “I’m not your problem.”

  He chuckles darkly. “You’ve been a pain in my side since my early memories, Olivia Saddler. You’ve completely hijacked my summer. Basically, you’ve been my problem from the very beginning.”

  He squeezes me tight and releases me. I see the sincerity on his face as I wipe tears off my cheeks.

  “That was embarrassing.”

  He shrugs. “I bring out a lot of emotions in people. It was bound to happen.”

  The
sun fades, bringing on the dark that we need for the movie. Ben grabs a handful of cookies and tilts his head. “By the way, did I hear you right earlier when you said I was cute?”

  I toss a stack of napkins at him. “Shut up.”

  He simply shoves the cookies in his mouth and grins, pleased that I gave him a compliment. We clean up the mess, leaving out the cookies and drinks, and re-arrange ourselves to face the screen. Ben balls up his hoodie and props it against the soft cooler.

  “You can sit here,” he says.

  “While you kill your back? No way.”

  He looks at it thoughtfully, then leans against the cushion, stretching his long legs down the truck bed. He holds out his arm. “Lean against me.”

  “You’re kidding.” The idea makes my heart pound hard in my chest. I’d admitted it, Ben is cute. He looks especially good tonight. It makes all of it--the whole night, my confession, the picnic--too much.

  “Hey,” he says, holding my eye, “it’s okay to rely on someone, and what’s better than some guy that will tell you fart jokes until you cry.”

  He has that way. He’s always had that way of making me feel safe and secure, even while talking about gas or deep dark secrets.

  “Fine, but no actual farting, okay?”

  He gives me a mega-watt smile. “No promises.”

  I relent and lean against his side, keeping my legs as far away as possible and my hands folded on my lap. Soon we’re engulfed in darkness and the muted colors of the movie flash on screen. I want to say it’s the nostalgia of the movie, the dark, starry sky and the summer night that’s keeping me warm, but I know it’s the heat of Ben’s arm supporting my shoulders. The comfort of having someone by my side that is just there, non-judging, consistent and safe.

  I’ve spent so much time pushing people away that it’s nice to have someone that’s always been there, even if I didn’t know it.

  15

  Olivia

  Even though I missed my favorite band, the night wasn’t a loss. The movie was epic, filled with non-stop commentary by Ben as Carrie White loses her mind. I can’t help but feel sympathy for the girl, knowing at times I’ve wanted to burn the whole town down as well. It’s a good thing I’m not telekinetic.

  I feel a sense of contentment on the way home, which is probably why, when I’m scrolling through ChattySnap on my phone and see the photos of Spencer at the concert, it only feels like a punch in the gut and not a kick.

  "Wait,” Ben says, when I show him the photo. “He actually went to the concert without you? Just when I thought this guy couldn’t get any worse.”

  I flip through the photos and pause on one where his arms are wrapped around a skinny girl with short black hair. Her lips are pressed against his neck. I know enough from Norah’s work in social media not to fall for what she calls, “photo assumption,” because it could be the angle, the positioning, the lighting…but there’s no assumptions being made in the fact he lied and ditched me to go to the concert, either alone or with someone else.

  Ben pulls up to the curb in front of my house and cuts the engine. I’m still scrolling through the photos when he grabs the phone from me and shuts it off.

  “Hey!”

  “Liv, this guy is terrible. Can you just forget him now?” There’s a hint of pleading in his voice.

  “I don’t think I have much choice,” I admit. “I’m pretty sure he was only into me because he thought I was dating you and—” I clamp my mouth shut.

  “And what?”

  “And he saw me leave your place the day after the party. You know, the drive of shame?”

  He shifts to face me. The truck has a big storage area between the seats which creates a distance between us. I’m glad, because the desire to crawl back into his arms like earlier tonight is overwhelmingly strong.

  “Look, I don’t want this to come across as creepy or weird or anything, but I get why he’s into you. You’re gorgeous.” I feel his eyes on me, but I can’t look at him. Not now. It doesn’t stop him from continuing. “But you’re more than that. You’re funny. Kind and smart. You’ve been through stuff that makes you wise—like way more than me. You’re determined and brave.” His hands rests on the gear shift. “What I’m trying to say is that you don’t need him.”

  Tears burn at my eyes, my emotions conflicted and confused. What he’s saying is nice—sweet—but…

  “I’m just tired of being alone, you know?” I wipe at my face. “Every time I meet someone that I feel a connection with, it falls apart. I thought maybe this summer would be different with Nicole and Spencer.”

  “Hey.” He reaches across the empty space with his long arm. I feel his fingers on my chin, encouraging me to look at him. There’s such concern on his face, sympathy in his eyes. “I get it. Probably more than you realize.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Do you know how hard it’s been for me to sit back and watch my two best friends work, plan a wedding, and travel the world together? I didn’t just lose one friend after high school, I lost them both. And even though I don’t begrudge them, the fact they have each other during this whole transition or whatever it is, makes it worse. They depend on each other. I’m just...” he runs his hand though his hair. “I’m just selfish. Floundering. Like my dad said.”

  “You’re not selfish. Change is hard. And you’re not floundering either, your business, it’s going well, right?”

  “It is and I’m good with it, I guess it’s just that I do it by myself and I spend so much time alone, that sometimes it feels like no one notices.” He exhales. “I just want you to know that I understand what it feels like.”

  At some point his fingers moved from my chin down to my neck, bracing me so I couldn’t turn away. He wants me to hear him, and I do. So much my chest aches from the twist and turn of my heart and my stomach feels like a swarm of butterflies is rolling around inside. He called me gorgeous. Strong.

  Something in my heart tightens.

  “For what it’s worth,” I tell him. “I miss Norah and Gabe, too.”

  His eyes hold mine, and in that moment, I truly do not feel so alone. Somewhere during the past three hours, the relationship between me and Ben shifted, going from family friends or my sister’s friend or his best friend’s sister to just…friends.

  It’s an odd feeling, not just because of our history, but because a genuine friend is something I’ve been lacking for a long time.

  “Did everyone get a scoop of ice cream?” Melina asks the group of girls. Once a week, the Creamery invites the girls down to the parlor for a free scoop of ice cream. Maya told us that she worked here when she lived at the group home, and her husband’s family is a big supporter of the program.

  “Can I get a double scoop?” Abbigail asks. It’s the same question every week. The answer is always the same, too.

  “You know everyone gets one scoop,” I say, grabbing a wad of napkins.

  “I just like my chocolate and strawberry mixed together,” she says.

  I shake my head but the guy behind the counter calls her over and takes back her scoop. It’s Maya’s husband, Christian, who is ridiculously handsome and rich and generous. Like, she doesn’t even need a degree in social work or this job. He spends a minute working on the cone and hands it back over.

  “How’s that?” he asks Abbigail. He’s hand-swirled the two flavors.

  She takes a lick, revealing her two missing front teeth. “Perfect.”

  He smiles and then winks at me.

  “You spoil them.”

  He shrugs. “They live in a world where everything is unstable and unpredictable. If I can make it easier, then I will.”

  I thank him, grab a few more napkins, and walk out the door. Melina is sitting on a bench while the girls are all clustered around a picnic table. She eyes Christian through the glass. “Who is that Prince Charming, and where can I get one?”

  “You know that’s Maya’s husband, right?”

  “Dang
.” She shakes her head. “I knew he worked here, but I expected some kind of skinny nerd and not…well, that. Maybe I’ve been looking for guys in the wrong places. I should hit like, the bowling alley or the movie theater.” She takes a lick of her spoon.

  “What about that guy that drops you off every day?”

  “Hector?” She snorts. “That’s my brother.”

  “Ooops,” I say, laughing. “Sorry about that.”

  “That’s okay. I’m glad to not share any family resemblance.”

  “I guess it’s nice that he drives you every day. I have to ride my bike.”

  “My mother is crazy over-protective. She doesn’t like me going anywhere, so having Hector drive is a compromise.”

  “My mom is like that, too.” The girls giggle at the table next to us, pumped up on sugar. “I told my mom this program goes until 4 p.m. every day so I have a few hours to just be on my own.”

  Melina raises an eyebrow. “What do you do?”

  “Not much. Ride around. Go to the library. Maybe get some food or something.” I don’t admit my plan had been to use the time to hang out with Nicole and I had to scramble. “It’s just nice being able to do what I want.”

  She takes her empty ice cream cup and tosses it in the trash, stopping to tell the other girls to do the same when they’re finished. It’s almost one, which means we can drop the girls back home and head out for the day. I haven’t figured out where I will go after work today.

  I look at Melina and think about my conversation with Ben the other night. One thing I’d learned is that it’s hard to know who’s lonely. What I want to say shouldn’t be hard, but I have to force the words from my mouth. “Maybe we could hang out one day. After work or in the evening. Would your mom allow that?”

  “Maybe. I’ve told her about you.”

  “My mom wants me to make friends from school. She’d die if I actually brought someone over.”

  Melina laughs. “I’ll talk to my mom.”