Page 11 of You've Found Oliver

Ben and I have been texting each other more and more lately.

Between classes, during lunch, even at the library when I should be studying.

It’s nice having someone to talk with throughout the day.

We have each other’s schedules memorized now.

Ben is taking four classes, five days a week, with Astronomy Club every Wednesday.

I don’t know how he finds the time to respond to me with his workload.

Even on exam nights, we’ll fall asleep texting each other.

I asked if we could follow each other on Instagram.

But Ben isn’t on any social media platforms, except Twitter, which he hasn’t used in years.

You can barely see him in the profile picture—he’s standing far away from the camera, facing the ocean.

Thankfully, I found a better picture of him online.

It’s from a school news article, announcing a scholarship he was awarded senior year.

He doesn’t look like someone you would find in a lab.

He has soft brown eyes, with a sharp jawline, and his dark hair reminds me a little of Sam’s.

He has the shoulders of a varsity tennis player, which is confirmed in the article I’m reading.

Benjamin Han.

So that’s your full name.

Of course, I save the photo on my phone.

I wonder if he’s looked me up, too. Sadly, there are no articles about me winning any awards.

But there is an old Tumblr I made in middle school that’s dedicated to Dean Winchester from the show Supernatural .

I should probably delete that before Ben, or anyone else, finds it.

In other news, Julie seems to be having the best time in Copenhagen. She’s been sending me photos of her daily life, which includes the food she’s eating. I wish I had the money to visit her while she’s studying there.

And how are things in Ellensburg?

Any interesting updates for me?

I haven’t told her about Ben yet. She’ll ask questions that I’m too embarrassed to answer. So, I’ve been secretly texting Sam’s old number for a year. When I accidently called it, this guy picked up instead. And now I can’t stop thinking about him…Funny story, right?

Knowing Julie, she would set up some kind of intervention. So I’ll probably keep it to myself for now. Especially since Ben and I haven’t even met in person. But I tell her about the Nolan incident.

What a narcissist

I can’t believe he just showed up like that!

I’m proud of you for walking away

I don’t mention that I still feel guilty about the situation. I mean, he only wanted a few minutes to talk with me. We haven’t run into each other since that interaction. A part of me wonders what he would have said. Hopefully, this feeling will eventually go away.

The next morning, I wake up to Ethan’s alarm.

It’s been ringing for ten minutes straight.

I swear, that boy can sleep through an earthquake.

He’ll set five alarms in a row and still somehow end up missing class.

Usually, I just put on headphones and try to go back to sleep.

But I remember he has some important presentation today, so I decide to wake him up myself.

I pull back his curtain and throw a pillow at him.

Then I head to the bathroom to take a shower.

It’s another gorgeous day on campus. Lacrosse players are practicing in the quad and the tulips are budding along the gardened paths.

I’m heading to the library for my Thursday shift.

According to Rami, there’s free breakfast today.

I grab a donut and meet him at the circulation desk.

He’s sitting at the counter, drinking his usual iced coffee.

“Morning, Rami.” I drop my things on the floor and pull out the chair beside him. “Your hair’s particularly shiny today. New serum?”

“Horse shampoo,” he whispers. “I saw a video about it online. Apparently, it’s good for the skin, too.”

“No wonder you’re glowing .” I glance at his computer screen. “What are you working on?”

“My transfer application.”

“Transfer application? Don’t tell me you’re abandoning me, too.”

“I want to go to NYU,” Rami says, taking another sip of coffee. “You know, have my Blair Waldorf experience.”

“You can get the same experience here. The sororities are full of pretentious rich white girls. And plenty of guys who will cheat on you, too,” I add.

“Sure, but the vibes aren’t the same.”

“You’re not leaving me here, okay?”

Someone approaches the counter. “Hey, Oliver.”

It’s Sarah, another one of Nolan’s close friends. I’m bound to run into some of them working here. Admittedly, she was one of my favorites. Her parents own the car dealership in town. We once stayed at their beach house for a weekend.

“Oh. Hi, Sarah.”

She smiles. “Haven’t seen much of you lately.”

“You know”—I shrug—“busy with school.”

“I figured.” There’s a silence as she stands there. Then Sarah lets out a breath and says, “Listen, Oliver. I heard about what happened. I hope you’re doing alright.”

“I’m doing fine.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” She finally hands me her book to check out.

It’s the second edition of Networks: An Economics Approach .

She and Nolan both major in business administration.

They’re probably taking this class together.

“By the way,” she says, “Kat and I are having some people over tomorrow. You should stop by, if you’re not busy. ”

I lie. “Thanks, but I have plans already.”

“Got it. Guess I’ll see you around.” Then she grabs her book and walks off.

Rami leans toward me. “Who was that?”

“One of Nolan’s friends.”

“And she invited you to hang out? Sounds like a setup.”

“You think so?” I consider this for a moment. “I don’t know, she’s always been nice to me. We used to hang in her room all the time. I’m sure it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if I stopped by—”

“I’m telling Julie.”

“For just thinking about it?”

Rami smacks my arm. “You know Nolan might be there.”

“ Fine. Then I won’t go, okay? No need to bring Julie into this.”

He’s probably right about that. Of course Nolan would be there.

That’s another thing I miss about dating him.

Things were never boring with him. We always had fun weekend plans together.

He introduced me to everyone he knew. Now I have to start over and find my own things to do.

Even Rami has plans to go bowling with his chess club.

I asked if I could tag along, but he says it’s pretty exclusive.

Chess members only . Looks like it’s another solo movie night in bed.

After work, I hang in the library and start on my assignments.

I have a few chapters to read for American History.

I’m supposed to be taking notes, but the textbook is putting me into a coma.

The only thing keeping me awake are texts from Ben.

He finished his lab early today. Now he’s packing to go home to Bellevue for the weekend.

How long are you going home for?

Staying until Sunday

That’s the thing about living close to home. Parents expect me to visit all the time

No need to tell me. My mom practically lives down the street

We do Thursday night dinners. I’m not allowed to miss it

That’s honestly sweet

What are your plans for the weekend?

Still figuring them out

Should we meet up?

The question catches me by surprise. I’m not sure if he’s serious. We’ve only been talking for a few weeks.

As in this weekend?

Yeah

Bellevue isn’t too far from you right? We could meet somewhere in the middle

If you’re not busy

I can’t believe he actually wants to see me. I was hoping we would meet eventually. But I wasn’t expecting it to be this soon.

That could be fun

Where should we meet?

Have you been to North Bend?

I think it’s halfway between us. I actually know a great diner there. Best smash burgers in Washington

I look it up on my phone. It’s about an hour drive from Ellensburg.

That’s not too far

And love a smash burger. But I’ll have to judge that for myself

What about tomorrow?

This is happening so fast. I only have Professor Clarke’s class in the afternoon.

I could hop on the bus afterwards. Ben texts me the name of the diner.

I can’t believe we’re actually going to meet in person.

The thought sends butterflies to my stomach.

It’s impossible to focus on anything else.

But I force myself to finish the rest of the chapter before leaving the library.

I drop my things off at the dorm before heading home for dinner.

We’re having turkey meatloaf tonight. I help Mom bring in the groceries and start on the vegetables.

I overcook the broccoli a little, but it’s still good.

Mom saved some galaktoboureko from her shift at the restaurant yesterday.

It’s this Greek dessert that’s made of custard and baked in filo dough.

We put on another episode of her period drama and eat in the living room.

As usual, she wraps up the leftovers for me to take back.

I can barely fall asleep that night, but morning comes before I know it. I shave my face thoroughly and spend some extra time on my hair.

I can barely pay attention in Professor Clarke’s class.

She has us do another activity around The Poetics of Space .

The quote on the board reads, “We are never real historians, but always near poets, and our emotion is perhaps nothing but an expression of a poetry that was lost.” —Gaston Bachelard.

We spend the class drawing our interpretations of it with colored pencils.

Professor Clarke walks the room and says, “When we think of a space, we think of our experiences in it. The rooms we walk though, the lives we live there. Are those memories not woven into the walls themselves? What happens to them after we leave?”