Since the morning, you had been in an unusually elevated mood. The sun felt brighter than usual, the air warmer, and a pleasant excitement spread inside you. You had finally made up your mind. Tonight, you would be the one to ask Ollie out on a date.
That same Ollie โ the sweet, slightly shy guy from the new vinyl store
โLast Track,โ
who had managed, over the past month, to capture the hearts of almost every girl in Ashgrove. There had long been a special, warm tension between you: long conversations about music, quiet smiles, playful glances. You had already imagined how you would walk up to him with a light smile and casually suggest a walk along the promenade after his shift.
But everything changed in an instant, marking the end of your sweet fantasy.
There was a knock at your door. On the doorstep stood a tall guy in a black hoodie with the hood pulled low over his face. His head was down, shoulders tense, hands hidden in his pockets. He didnโt come closer, staying at a distance as if afraid to approach. Silently, he handed you a folded newspaper with a small note attached, then immediately turned and quickly walked away.
In neat but slightly uneven handwriting, the note contained an invitation for an evening walk, a phone number, and a short addition:
โIf youโre not afraid of a bad reputation.โ
You immediately knew who it was from โ Hollis Wiley.
The trailer park delivery guy everyone in town avoided along with the rest of the Wiley family. Truthfully, you barely even remembered his face. Hollis was always hidden under oversized hoodies with the hood pulled low over his eyes, silently tossing newspapers onto porches before disappearing again like a ghost people preferred not to notice.
You didnโt think much of it. With a grimace of disgust, you tossed the note into the trash.
_______
That evening, you went to
โLast Trackโ
with your friends, still in a good mood. The store greeted you with warm lamp light, the smell of old vinyl, and soft music playing in the background. As you slowly wandered between the shelves, you laughed while telling them the story of the morning note.
Your friends reacted exactly as you expected:
โโ Eww, from Hollis?!โ
Jessa snorted loudly, dramatically shuddering.
โOh my God, poor youโฆ I wouldโve died on the spot.โ
โโ Are you serious?โ
another friend chimed in, not hiding her disgust.
โThat guy from the trailer? And do you know how he even got his name? His parents were blackout drunk when he was born. His dad just pointed at an old advertising poster for โHollis Park Estatesโ and muttered, โLet it be that.โ I heard his mom still calls him โPark Estatesโ when sheโs wastedโฆโ
Loud, ringing laughter echoed through the store. And it was exactly at that moment that you turned around.
Behind a neighboring shelf stood Ollie. He was holding a heavy box of new records, but his fingers were so white it looked like the cardboard might crack at any second. His face was deathly pale, and behind his glasses his eyes held such deep, genuine pain it looked like he had just been stabbed in the back.
You smiled and stepped toward him, finally about to invite him out. But Ollie jerked back sharply, as if burned. The box nearly slipped from his hands.
โโ Iโฆ I need toโฆโ
his voice trembled traitorously. He looked away, hiding his eyes.
โSorry. Iโm really busy. I needโฆ to go to the back room.โ
He quickly turned and almost ran, disappearing behind the staff door.
More than forty minutes had passed since then.
You were still standing in the main hall, pretending to look through album covers. Your friends had scattered around the store, but Jessa came back to you and nudged your shoulder with a sly grin:
โโ Hey, your Ollie is clearly not okay after your storyโฆ maybe heโs jealous? Go check on him,โ
she nodded toward the slightly open door to the back room.
โGo calm him down. Maybe heโs in there right now worrying that youโll reject him. Or maybe, on the contrary, waiting for you to comeโฆ Secluded place, dim lighting. Perfect for a first kiss,โ
she giggled, and the other girls behind her quietly laughed.
_______
And in the cramped, poorly lit back room, pressed against the cold concrete wall and slowly sliding down it, Ollie sat.
His breathing was uneven and heavy. His hands were shaking so badly he clenched them into fists, nails digging into his palms. A painful lump stood in his throat, and in his head the words he had just heard kept replaying again and again.
โโ What a fucking idiotโฆ what a pathetic, fucking idiot,โ
he whispered under his breath, his voice trembling with anger, irritation, and disgust, wishing he could simply disappear right there and then.
He closed his eyes, trying to suppress the rising nausea and the shaking throughout his entire body:
โโ You really thought that taking off the hoodie and putting on those stupid glasses would make you someone else? That if you called yourself Ollie, she wouldnโt look at you with disgust when she found out youโre Hollis Wiley? Wiley trashโฆโ
_______
