Moody Oliver returned in a way I didn’t expect, a good week after his confession and endless texting later. Every afternoon, we messaged each other. And when there was nothing to say, he’d send me memes, instead, telling me he was always thinking of me. 

In the mornings, he picked me up, and we walked to school together. Sometimes, we talked a lot about school, judo, or whatever else we could think of. Sometimes, we’d be too shy, and focus entirely on our fingers fiddling with each other until we leaped into it, holding hands on the way to school. We never talked about what that meant, though, and we never went any further than that. 

He’d been in a great mood, lately, a soft smile stuck to his face every morning. 

But now, sitting in class, his mood had changed horribly. And it had probably to do with the math exam the teacher just returned to us. 

“I was pleasantly surprised, I must say. Good work, everyone,” our teacher had said, though, and his gaze had fallen upon Oliver, who didn’t even lift his head — as if him having done a good job was completely out of the question. 

His exam reached our desk, and immediately, I recognized Oliver’s handwriting and the blue, frantic ink with which he corrected his thoughts, crossing out half his pages, only to start over again, and again. 

“What did you get?” I asked him, as if I was excited. I couldn’t help but remember the ultimatum he’d given himself, and the things that were to come as a result of it — and it might just have been exactly why his mood dropped so horribly. 

Before I even got to see his grade, his exam crumpled between his fingers, thrust into ball and ruined altogether, hidden in his fist. He didn’t answer me, hunched back into his napping position, and hid his face from me. 

“Oliver?” I nudged him, only a deep buzz returning. He rested his chin atop his fist, hiding his exam. My fingers tickled along his forearm, an awkward giggle creeping out of me. “Show me. What is it?” 

“Why?” Oliver grumbled. 

“What are you sulking for?” I laughed. “Did you even look? I’m sure it’s good, we studied together.” 

“It’s easy for you to say,” Oliver said right back, pushing his arm further away from me, all so I couldn’t reach the paper he hid within his hand. “You always get all the A’s, and the perfect scores.” 

“Aw, come on, Oliver,” I sighed, trying my hardest reach for the paper, but his fingers wouldn’t budge, no matter how much strength I tried to pull them with. The paper crumpled further and further, and I decided on a different approach. 

Making sure nobody watched in the few-minute-break we had in-between lectures, everyone too distracted with their own conversation, I leaned into Oliver, my nose almost tickling his ear. 

“If you show me, I’ll go to the library with you during recess.” My whispers reached him immediately, and I realized it sounded like I had much naughtier plans than I did in reality. Nonetheless, it worked, and Oliver immediately snapped up, straightening his back and his exam all the same, pressing it flat onto the desk to show me. 

“Hey, Oliver, this is great. You were, like, two points short of a B.” 

“That means it’s not a B.” 

“It’s a C+, which is great.”

Oliver grumbled in response, and even though I reassured him multiple times, his mood didn’t lift. 

Even at the beginning of recess, as we walked down the stairs together, aiming for the library, he didn’t stop pouting, emanating some kind of negative energy off his body. An aura that would propel me straight into the crossfire if I dared to say the wrong thing, or come too close. 

But I wasn’t scared — the way his lower lip protruded, his eyes darted about, shoulders saggy … it was cute, more than anything, his emotions laid out on display so obviously, it was hard to ignore. 

You didn’t meet your own ultimatum’s expectations? You want to go on a date with me this bad? 

Why did he make such an ultimatum, then, in the first place? I didn’t need such silly bets to go out with him — if he asked me right now, straight up, if I’d go out to eat with him, or to the cinema, or whatever else he had in mind, I’d nod my head a million times. 

But in his head, he’d lost his opportunity, and now, he sulked. Without an end in sight. 

Wasn’t he too stuck in his own head, his own ideas? Why didn’t he bother asking me what I thought, just because he’d already made up his own mind?

“You know, if you’re trying to scare me with that frown, it’s not working,” I mumbled as we reached the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m not…”

“All sulky like that, you’re kind of cute.”

His ears twitched red immediately, and he stormed along the hallway, heading for the library. “You’re making fun of me.” 

“No, of course not, Oliver.” I had to contain my laugh, giggling to myself. Reaching for his arm, I tried to slow him down and pay me some attention, as he all he wanted to do was flee away from me. My fingers squished into his biceps, and finally did he stop running, and turned, ever so slowly, to look me in the eyes. 

Chewing on his lower lip, he spoke in a low, mumbled hum. “I really wanted to do well,” he admitted. 

“And you did,” I reassured him once more. “You know, it’s impossible to go straight to a perfect score. It’s progress.” 

“I studied with all the notes you gave me, multiple times, all weekend.” 

“I know you did. You told me.” 

“But it’s not good enough,” Oliver finally sighed. “I wanted to be good enough, so I can go out with you.” 

“Oh, my god, Oliver!” Instantly, I opened the library’s door, pushed Oliver through. He didn’t resist, which made it fairly easy. And as soon as I entered, I pushed him into the very door I had shut behind him. 

His backpack dropped onto his elbow bent, having slid off his shoulder in the sudden motion, and his brown eyes widened. A loud exhale followed, and he stared, and stared. 

“What are you making all these decisions by yourself for, hm?”

“I—“

“Who said I won’t go out with you?” Why did I always scold him in the library? My cheeks blushed, and Oliver watched me with a half-opened mouth, lips drying out. “You gave yourself that ultimatum, not me! I never said you needed to do anything of that sort, you know?”

“But—“ 

“No buts!” My hands pressed into both his biceps, pushing him against the door — not that it mattered, anyway. If Oliver decided to, he could have easily pushed me out of the way, but he stood there so obediently, my heart jumped a hundred beats. 

Oliver’s gulp was hellishly loud in the dead-silent library we found ourselves in, and it made me even more nervous. 

“You don’t need to earn a date with me, and you don’t need to do anything to deserve it, either! Got it?” 

Oliver nodded frantically. 

“I like guys that work hard. And I know how difficult it is for you to focus, and I know you really tried your best, so I’m proud. That’s all I need. So, if you want to go out with me, just ask me. None of those bets, and don’t make up your mind all by yourself.” 

“Sorry,” Oliver mumbled, still frozen in place, my fingers still holding him back. His eyes changed, though. 

I leaned back, only for his fingers to reach for me, tickling past my waist, feeling so incredibly hot. Before I knew it, his hand pushed me towards him, forcing me to stumble right into his arms, hands landing right onto his chest. 

Turning bright red, his fingers caressing me at my back and waist, I wasn’t sure how to react. I knew what he wanted — his lips and eyes made it too obvious to ignore.

But I …

In a panic, I stopped him. My finger rushed up to his lip, pressing right against them, squashing them in the process. Immediately, his shoulders slouched; another lost opportunity. 

“I told you to ask—“

“You said you’re proud of me. I really want to—“ Once more, he leaned in, trying to push my finger away from his lips. Warm fingers wrapped around my wrist, and in an effort to escape him, I arched my back further and further away from him, but his arm completely wrapped around my waist, I had nowhere to go. 

“Hey!!” I pushed both my hands against his mouth, now. “Keep that for our date—!” 

“You’ll go out with me?” he mumbled against my sensitive palms, his brown eyes glowing in extreme happiness. Still leaving me no escape. 

“Yes! Of course, yes! You dummy, it was a yes a week ago if you hadn’t done your silly bet!” 

Oliver turned speechless, now, practically gawking at me as if he couldn’t believe it. 

“So—So you better prepare a proper date! Just so you know, I love burgers, and curly fries even more! If there’s no dessert, I’m not going!” 

Instantly, Oliver nodded, over and over again. “Okay.” 

“Everything else, I’ll leave up to you. You invited me, so you should surprise me.” 

“Yeah, okay.”

What came over me? I wasn’t sure.

But I did tiptoe upwards, leaning into him, and as he stared and watched, unsure of what I was up to, I rushed my lips towards his cheek, giving him the most innocent, most embarrassing little kiss onto his skin.

His own hand rushed up to his prickling cheek, and he stared at me with eyes bulging out of his head as if I had slapped him across the face. Ears twitched, and he was speechless once more. 

“This weekend,” I commanded, unsure of where this courage came from. Was it Oliver’s clear obedience, or his own shock, that made me so confident? “On Saturday, pick me up at 1.” 

Another gulp, another nod out of Oliver. He said absolutely nothing, frozen solid and overwhelmed by my initiative. 

And I left him like that, as he stared holes into the air, thinking of all the life choices that had led him down this path that excited him so, turning his neck bright red. All perplexed, he stood in the library, watched me leave, and said nothing.

And I ran across the hallway, hiding my own face within my hands that now carried Oliver’s scent on them, embarrassment rushing over me.