I snort. “Dude, please. It’s fine. You seriously don’t have to lie to me.”
“I don’t lie,” Oliver counters, his tone more serious than before. “That’s not who I am.”
“Okay, but still,” I insist. “Nikki looks like a model. Like, celebrity-level gorgeous.”
“And?”
“And I’m just…average? I don’t know. I’m definitely not at her level.”
“Whatever, man,” Oliver replies, a hint of irritation in his voice now. “Does she have any other qualities? Or is she only mind-blowingly hot?”
Now I’m annoyed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re the one only describing her by her looks.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, fine, she’s also really smart. She’s motivated and ambitious. She’s always busy because when she’s not in class, she’s either working, studying, serving as a TA, or at the gym.”
“Okay, what else?”
I sneer. “What do you mean, ‘what else’?”
“I don’t know. Is she nice?”
“Of course!”
Oliver pauses. “I feel like we’re fighting. Are we fighting?”
I glance at him briefly before turning my attention back to the road. “We shouldn’t be. That would be weird.”
Another pause. “Sorry, I just…I don’t like you putting yourself down or comparing yourself to other people like that. You’re a great person, Jude. And you’re…you’re beautiful, too. Inside and out.”
My heart thrums in my chest. Oliver thinks I’m beautiful?
Oh, shit. Oliver thinks I’m beautiful.
“And I hope you don’t take that the wrong way,” he continues, reading my mind yet again. “I’m saying this as your friend, and I respect your boundaries, etc., etc. I’m not coming on to you. I just think you need to hear it more often.”
The tension leaves my shoulders as quickly as it arrived, and I sigh. “Thank you, Oliver. I’ll try not to be as self-deprecating around you.”
“I mean, if you do it in a funny way, it’s fine,” Oliver says. “But I don’t know. I don’t want you thinking Nikki could do better just because she’s ‘celebrity-level’ attractive.”
“Okay, fair enough.”
“Good. Thank you.” He takes a swig of his water bottle before continuing. “Now, on a completely separate note: have you heard of the Russian band Little Big?”
“Little Big?” I repeat quizzically. “Nope, that sounds very made up.”
Oliver lets out a devious chuckle. “Oh, man. Jude, my dude, I’m about to change your life.”
Sunday, September 21, 2025
Nikki’s knock on the door is eight minutes early.
“That’s Nikki—could you get the door, Cel?” I call from the bathroom as I scramble to finish my makeup. It’s only movie night with Max, but I always try to look a little nicer for Nikki. Just a touch more eye shadow should do the trick.
Celeste doesn’t respond, but only a second later, I hear the door open. “Nikki!”
“Hi, Celeste!”
