"Hello Harley, this is Sarah Goyle from Super Saver calling about your job application."

I froze, turning in the direction of the messaging machine. This was it, my latest try at a job...

"We're sorry, but I'm afraid we are looking for someone a little older and more experienced for—"

With a sigh of impatience, I slammed the button down. "You said the exact same thing three months ago! You're even the same person! You could at least change it up a bit," I muttered angrily, returning to sweeping the kitchen. "Geez."

"Pig! Pig!" Elliot cried from his room. "Olive and I are hungry!"

"Well then you and Olive can come out and get food by yourselves," I called back, rolling my eyes. "You aren't helpless."

A few moments later Oliver and Elliot appeared in the kitchen, Oliver smirking. "But you are," he said, responding to my earlier comment. "The phone rang earlier. Was it someone from somewhere?"

"Well obviously it was someone from somewhere, Oliver."

He gave me a sarcastic look. "Ha ha."

"It was Sarah Goyle from Super Saver calling me about my job application," I told him, mimicking Sarah's sickly sweet tone. "Apparently, I'm still too young."

"And your birthday isn't until the end of January, right?"

"Right— hey, wait. How'd you know that?" I asked curiously, cocking an eyebrow. "I don't recall telling you that."

Oliver shrugged. "It was on your license."

"You remember from that long ago?"

"Obviously."

My birthday... it was only a few weeks away. A few weeks and then I could get my inheritance and my life would be all set. I was so close. And maybe I had enough saved to make it until then, but I wanted to find a job, just to be safe.

"When are you leaving?" I asked, glancing at the clock. It was already 7 o'clock. Oliver had been here pretty much all day.

"Never!" Elliot chirped, clinging to Oliver's leg. "Olive can live with us."

I shook my head at Elliot. "No, he can't, Eli."

"Technically I could," Oliver mused, "since I'm eighteen."

Elliot's eyes widened and he sucked in a large breath of air, looking like he was going to burst in excitement. I shot a hard look at Oliver, who was chuckling at Elliot's demeanor.

"Oliver's not living us with El," I told him.

He deflated like a balloon. His shoulders sagged, and he let out his breath, his face turning into a pout. "Why not?"

"What do you want to eat?" I asked him, ignoring his question. "Cereal?"

"No."

"A sandwich?"

"No."

I turned to give Elliot an annoyed look. "Then what do you want?"

"Whatever Olive wants."

"You do know his name is Oliver, right?" I inquired, the corners of my mouth twitching into a smile.

Elliot gave me a blank expression. "Olive is Olive..."

"I'm not very hungry," Oliver stated, crossing his arms.

"Then neither am I!"

I sent Oliver a meaningful look. He tsked. "Fine. I'm hungry."

"Me too!" Elliot cried excitedly.

"What do you want then?"

Oliver gave me a small smirk. "What do you have?" he drawled, leaning against the counter. "I'm picky."

"We don't have much," I told him, opening the fridge, and peering into it. "I need to go to the grocery store..." The thought brought a frown to my face. The grocery store meant spending money. Money I needed.

"You know, my dad said you could have more hours at the bar if you want," Oliver told me.

I shook my head. "Other workers have those nights."

"Trust me, there are hours for you. And my dad feels terrible about what happened, so he'll definitely give them to you."

"I mean, if it comes down to it, I'll take it. But none of this was his fault, he knows that right?"

Oliver nodded. "He knows it was Arden's fault."

"What? It wasn't Arden's fault!"

"Well, he did tell on you. Speaking of which- any news from the principal?"

I shook my head. "Nope, all clear still."

"That's good."

"But it's not Arden's fault."

"You're blinded by your feelings," Oliver declared with a shrug.

"I'm not blinded by my feelings," I snapped at him, feeling my face heat up. "There are no feelings."

He gave me a flat look. "Don't lie so blatantly."

"Oh, you know such a big word?"

"Harley."

"Look, even if I did, it's too late now. He'd never trust me the way he did before and a relationship is built on trust."

"Really now?" Oliver said, a smirk slipping onto his face.

"What's that smirk for?"

"Nothing," he responded.

There was a sudden tug at the back of my shirt, and I turned to see Elliot staring petulantly. "Pig, I'm hungry..."

"Right, sorry. Do you want soup?"

Elliot turned to Oliver, looking imploring. Oliver sighed. "Only if it's chicken."

"How about squirrel?" I joked, heading to the cabinet.

"Shut up," Oliver snapped. "That was when I first moved here. I can say it fine now."

I cocked an eyebrow, turning back to him. "Okay, say it."

He set his jaw. "No."

"Come on, Olive! Say squirrel!" Elliot said, pulling on Oliver's hand. "Squirrel!"

Oliver shook his head, keeping his mouth shut. I snorted.

"You can't say it now, can you?"

"Fine," Oliver responded in a snippy tone. "I'll say it."

He hesitated for a moment I laughed. "Any year now..."

"Squirrel," he finally blurted out.

An awkward moment of silence passed. Elliot slowly turned to me, a confused expression on his face. As soon as I caught sight of it, I couldn't hold in my laughter anymore. "Oliver, what? What was that? That didn't sound like squirrel! That sounded like... Sounded like—"

"Let's hear you talk with an English accent," Oliver demanded. "Let's see how good you sound using an accent that's not your natural one."

I immediately sobered up. "No, I can't..."

"Just a simple sentence. What do you Americans like to say in a British accent...? Ah, yes. Hello governor."

Shaking my head, I turned back to the cabinet, pulling out a can of soup. "I'm not good with accents," I told him, moving to the next cupboard to fetch a pot. "Especially British ones."

"A spot of tea for the governor," Oliver commented from behind me. "Cheerio. Tea. Crumpets. Biscuit."

I turned to scowl at him. "I liked you better when you rarely talked."

"Well, I like being myself around you. Sorry if it bothers you. There aren't that many people I feel uncomfortable enough around," he responded in a casual manner.

I almost dropped the pot on the stove. I turned to survey him carefully. He returned my gaze with a questioning one. Before he could say anything, I faced forward again, feeling warmth spread across my cheeks. Oliver felt comfortable enough around me to be himself?

"Hey, Oliver?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for the other day at the school... You know, for gathering everyone," I said, keeping my back to him. "I figured it was you."

"It's no problem," he responded nonchalantly.

"It may be no problem to you, but it means a lot to me," I told him, trying to pull the top of the can of soup off. "I don't know what I would have done if you weren't there." Frowning, I pulled harder on the tab.

"Let me do that," Oliver suggested, reaching his hands around me, and taking the can out of my hands. "And you would have done fine, Harley. You're a strong person."

"Obviously not strong enough to open a can," I muttered, very aware of his arms around me.

He opened the can of soup with ease and retracted his arms, much to my dismay. He dumped its contents into the pot as I stared at his long, slim fingers. When he put the can down, my hand involuntarily grabbed his free one. His hand froze. I realized what I was doing and quickly let go.

"S-sorry," I stuttered, holding my arms tightly at my sides.

Suddenly our hands were together again, this time due to Oliver. He turned me around, giving me an expressive look. "Don't apologize."

"But..."

"Harley, I like you," Oliver said, frowning slightly. "Don't apologize for something like that."

"I like you too, Oliver," I responded, putting my free hand over our enclosed hands. "Especially this honest side of you."

"But," he prodded.

"How'd you know there was a but?"

Oliver rolled his eyes. "If there wasn't a but, you wouldn't have pulled your hand away so quickly."

"I don't want a relationship until I get another job or my inheritance," I told him in a rush.

"What?"

"What what?"

He gave me an interested look. "Why do you want to wait until you get yourself another job?"

"Because there's just a lot of stress on me and I don't want to snap at you because of it," I told him. "I'm not home free yet. Either I get a job or I get my inheritance. Either one would relive me. And then I'd be more than happy to be in a relationship." As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I felt my cheeks warm up.

Oliver grinned at me. "Well hurry up. While you may be patient, I'm not."

I couldn't help but grin back. "Well, Oliver. You're really different from that delinquent I met a few months ago."

"I'm still the same person."

"You're nicer," I told him.

Oliver snorted. "No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

The sound of someone clearing their throat filled the room before I could say more. My eyes dropped to Elliot, who was giving me an impatient look.

"You always forget I'm in the room, Pig!" he accused, putting his hands on his hips.

"Sorry, Eli," I apologized, squatting down to his level. "Your soup is cooking."

"I want crackers too."

"Of course."

Before I could get the crackers, my phone started ringing again. "I'll be right back," I told Oliver and Elliot, heading to the phone. On the third ring, I picked it up, putting it against my ear. "Hello?"

"Harley?"

"Anthony?"

"It's me," he responded in an excited tone. "How are you?"

"I'm good, you?" I responded slowly, trying to figure out why he was calling me. Unless...

"Listen, I know Oliver's probably mentioned this a thousand times, but I figured I'd give you a call too." I heard him take a deep breath over the phone. "Please, please, come work full time for me. I don't care if it's just for a couple weeks. I want to help you out. Oliver told me everything. And honestly, I really could use the help right now. And I'm not lying to you so you'll accept my offer. I really do need the help."

I gripped the phone tighter. "But..."

"You're a pleasure to work with. I'd love to have you around more."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

My heart sped up in my chest. No way... since when was my life this easy? It hadn't been this way since my parents died. "Thank you so much," I said, feeling emotion roll over me. "Really, thank you."

"So I take it I'll see you soon?" he asked eagerly.

I laughed. "I can't say no to you."

"Great! Then see you soon, Harley."

"See you soon. Thanks again."

"No problem! Tell Oliver I said hi." With that, he hung up.

I placed the phone back down on the receiver, staring at it in. Was this really okay? But, I couldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe life was just going easy on me for once. Moving back to the kitchen, I found Oliver pouring Elliot's soup into one of the porcelain bowls I never used. When he heard me enter he looked up at me with an inquisitive look.

"Who was that?"

"Your dad..."

He looked even more curious. "What did he want?"

"You probably already know. To offer me more hours."

"And what did you say?" he prompted.

"Um, I said yes."

Before I could blink Oliver was across the room, his hand slipping to the back of my neck. He brought his face closer to mine, blue eyes piercing into my own. My breath caught in my throat at our closeness. "You have a job now," he told me in a matter-of-fact tone, smiling smugly.

"I—"

My response was cut off when Oliver pressed his lips against mine. Instead of doing what I should have done and closing my eyes, they widened and I stood there awkwardly, too surprised to respond to the kiss.

He pulled away after a moment, frowning at me. "The least you could do is kiss me back," he said in an offended voice.

"Well you kissed me without any warning!" I shot back, feeling my face catch on fire. "You could have at least warned me or something!"

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Didn't you realize something was going to happen when I came close?"

"No!"

"I'm going to kiss you again."

"Oliver—"

Staying true to his words, he held my head still and kissed me once more. My face grew darker and I froze again, unable to kiss him back. This time I noticed just how soft his lips were. He pulled away again, frowning deeply. "We can keep doing this until you get this right, Harley."

"Oliver, Oliver, wait," I demanded, putting a hand to his face as he tried to kiss me again.

"What?" he murmured through my fingers.

"Elliot..."

We both turned to my little brother, who was watching us intently, his mouth open, and his soup filled spoon suspended in the air an inch away from this mouth. Oliver immediately backed away from me, holding up his hands to Elliot.

"You didn't see anything," he told Elliot in a firm voice.

Elliot closed his mouth abruptly, dropping his spoon back into his bowl. "Olive..."

"Elliot..."

"Olive and Pig sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G," he sang excitedly, grinning at us. "First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Ardy in a baby carriage!"

I grimaced at my little brother, who continued repeating the silly little children's song. Oliver glanced at me, his expression caught between amusement and annoyance. I couldn't help but laugh. And when I started laughing, I couldn't stop. Everything was going okay again. Everything was working out. There was just one thing I needed to fix before it was perfect.

Arden.