I've spent my entire life either running from this girl, angry with this girl or flat out thinking of this girl.

With how much Muriel is on my mind it's no wonder how I'm not certifiably mad. Every other waking thought is of her. Every dream, every nightmare, and all the spaces in between. She has been a constant sweet form of torture for me since before I could remember.

As a young lad, I'd count down the days until the Reazpoe's came for their ritual holidays with the same excitement as when I'd countdown for Christmas. It was always more fun when she was around. The intricate leggo buildings she built I kept on my shelf safeguarding them while they were gone because they were utterly perfect.

Then, one summer, at the age of 11, I remember nothing more than being so incredibly excited for the Reazpoe's to come for the summer but once they got here I was confused. I didn't want to build leggo's with her anymore or play hide-and-seek, I didn't know what the hell I wanted to do with her. I wanted to talk to her, but somehow talking to her was suddenly a challenge and different. I wanted to spend time with her, but that had also become forced. I wanted to be around her twenty-four-seven, like all those years before, but once she was around me everything was confusing and different to which only made me angry. And like a twit, I took it out on her.

It wasn't until they left in September and Mum and Dad sat me down did I realize I wasn't angry with Muriel I was angry at my changing feelings. That is also the same time I was blessed with a rather interesting conversation about the birds and the bees.

So, twice a year I spent it excited with anticipation but also in equal agony. Afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing to Murry and losing her as my best friend forever.

Of course, I was trying to fight a battle against Time I could never win no matter how desperate I was to not let us change.

She became a woman and I became a man, so that added more weight to my shoulders and made it even more difficult (and more exciting) to be around her. The time of looking and seeing just my pretty best friend had evaporated into thin air. To add to the never-ending weight, I had to be acutely aware of where my eyes could look and where they couldn't. How I could touch her and how I couldn't. Everything I did I had to scrutinize it to the nth degree to be sure I wasn't overstepping without noticing.

Inevitably because of this, I mastered the art of pretend. I could look at her nearly collapsing to the ground from my heart and lungs working triple time but on the outside, I was as cool as a bloody cucumber. For year's I cruised happily to just be her best friend and more than happy she was oblivious to my deep feelings for her.

Then queue, Jeremy fucking Reynolds, who is a horrendously bland version of me in nearly every way and I'd finally had enough. I ran for the God damn hills. I slowly ghosted her, until we grew apart.

But now, with her flying back into my life I was done pretending and running...

I bang the side of my fist on Murry's closed bedroom door. These doors don't lock in this ancient house, so I was just being proper knocking first. Giving her the option to open it. Regardless, I am coming into her room.

"Murry, open the door," I say glaring at the small oval doorknob, hoping to see it twist.

"No! Go away, Oliver. I don't want to talk. I don't want to see you. I just want to be left alone."

She should have thought of that before sneaking into the barn and stealing a little peek of me. Not to mention, kissing me back last night, and holding my hand at the party.

"You can either open the door, or I can. What'll it be?" Seriously, I sound like her father, Henry.

Fucking cringe.

I give her a moment to open the door and/or collect herself for an additional second because she is slow to pull the trigger on everything and then grab the knob and twist it. I ram the door with my hip and the door cracks open, but it slams shut nearly on my face.

"You bloody jokin'?" I scoff knowing she's on the other side of the door pressing on it to keep it from opening.

"Go away!"

I don't know if I want to laugh or be angry. This is so juvenile. "Muriel, I am opening this door whether you like it or not. You're only going to embarrass yourself so open the fucking door."

Again, I allow her a moment to digest what I've just said and burn a hole into the unmoving doorknob waiting for her to open it.

"No? Right, then." With one good ram, I throw my side into the door and it flings open. Muriel stumbles back against the bed planting her hands behind her to catch herself.

Her freckled cheeks are flushed and I know she wants to kill me, but I don't have it in myself to pretend anymore and additionally, she owes me an explanation if she doesn't want me.

The second I step into the room I feel the electric charge of tension. The same tension I felt in the barn and while we were watching the movie last night. It's different in that not only is it wafting from me in waves but now they're coming from her, and I can't ignore it.

"Are you not attracted to me? You need to tell me point blank you are not and I'll be sure you never see me again." I struggle to breathe, it's like the air in here is thin...and fucking hot, why am I sweating all of a sudden?

She blinks rapidly, the gears turning furiously in her mind leaving me in th edge of my seat waiting for an answer I've wanted my entire sorry-life.

"Fucking speak! Stop thinking and just say what is on your mind, Muriel."

"You can't talk to me like this," She meekly bites out and rises from the bed. I let out a strangled breath suddenly wanting to drive my fist through a wall because she won't ever put me out of my misery.

"Give me something?" I beg and step further into the room. If I've misjudged all her subliminal signals and she doesn't feel anything then this is on me. I need her to cut the cord with one clean sweep, giving me the courtesy of not grasping at the lifelines. This lukewarm nauseating limbo I've been in the last few days with her has been like sweet poison to me. "I need to hear you say it. You need to tell me you're not attracted to me."

"I can't," She mutters shaking her head.

I would laugh if my heart in my chest wasn't cracking down the center, "Do you think so little of me that you won't even give me a proper explanation?"

She shakes her head again, the tendons in her neck flexing tightly, "I can't do this right now, Ollie."

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Now how are we feeling about Ollie?

I feel so bad for him!

I'll try for another update so you're not left in the dark. If my babies nap you'll get an update lol 😆

So.... 50/50 chance