029. error in the system

( the twenty ninth chapter )

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The air in the car was thick, a silence hanging between Olivine and Rafe like a storm cloud ready to burst. The hum of the engine and occasional polite conversation from the Camerons in the front seat felt like static. Every so often, Rafe's hand would drift to her thigh, his fingers pressing lightly against the soft fabric of her dress.

Each time, Olivine would gently remove his hand, her own sliding down to rest near his instead, barely brushing against it before intertwining just their pinkies. It was a subtle touch—enough to keep up appearances—but a stark contrast to the warmth they normally shared.

Rafe leaned toward her, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "Are you mad at me or something?"

Her lips barely moved as she replied. "We'll talk later."

The clipped tone sent a chill down his spine, and he straightened in his seat, jaw tightening.

When they arrived at the recital venue, Ward was the first to step out, offering a hand to Rose. He turned back to Olivine as she exited the car, his expression soft and curious.

"So, Olivine," Ward began as they walked together toward the entrance, his voice light but deliberate. "How's Rafe been treating you? I imagine dating him can't always be easy."

Olivine glanced sideways at Rafe, who was walking slightly behind them, his hands in his pockets. She hesitated for a moment before smiling politely at Ward. "He's... good to me," she said carefully. "Most of the time."

Ward raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the hesitation in her voice. "Most of the time?" he repeated, a chuckle laced in his tone.

"Well," she continued, "Rafe can be... intense. But I think that's just who he is."

Behind her, Rafe felt his pulse quicken, his jaw clenching. He hated the careful way she spoke about him, like she was walking on eggshells.

Ward nodded thoughtfully. "Intense, huh? That's one way to put it. But he's lucky to have someone like you, someone who can handle him."

Olivine smiled politely, though the weight of Ward's words lingered.

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Inside the venue, the Camerons moved toward the bar to order drinks before the performance. Olivine stood off to the side, her arms crossed lightly as she took in the elegant surroundings.

"Hey," Rafe said, sidling up to her and tugging her gently by the elbow. "Come here for a sec."

She followed him reluctantly, allowing herself to be led into a quieter corner of the lobby. His hand brushed her arm as they stopped, but she stepped back slightly, keeping just enough distance between them to make her point.

Rafe's eyes darted around before landing on her, his expression a mix of guilt and determination. "About earlier," he began, his voice low. "The coke—it wasn't mine."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Rafe, don't."

"No, seriously," he insisted, his hand reaching for hers. She didn't pull away, but her grip was loose, uncommitted. "It wasn't mine. I swear. One of Topper's guys left it there. You know how they are—always leaving their shit everywhere. I haven't touched it. You've got to believe me."

She let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head. "You're really going to stand here and lie to me? Right now?"

"It's not a lie," he said, his tone growing more defensive. "Why would I lie to you about this? You're the only person I care about, Olivine."

Her voice dropped, sharp and cutting. "Stop trying to save your skin, Rafe. I know it's yours. I know."

He froze, his shoulders stiffening as her words sank in. "It's not—"

"Don't," she interrupted, her gaze piercing. "We're one foot away from your family. This isn't the time, and it sure as hell isn't the place. We'll talk later."

Rafe swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he struggled for a response. She turned on her heel, her back straight and unwavering as she walked away, leaving him standing there, fists clenched at his sides.

As she rejoined the Camerons, Olivine plastered a polite smile on her face, seamlessly slipping back into the role of the charming, composed girlfriend. Ward was talking animatedly with Rose about the upcoming performance, while Sarah and Wheezie were debating which dancers would steal the show.

Rafe appeared a moment later, his expression carefully neutral as he slid back into the group. He reached for Olivine's hand, and for a second, she hesitated before letting him take it.

He gave her fingers a slight squeeze, but she didn't return it.

The Camerons, none the wiser, continued chatting among themselves as the tension between Rafe and Olivine simmered just below the surface. She focused intently on the gilded ceiling of the theater lobby, the intricate moldings distracting her from the weight of Rafe's hand in hers. His grip was firm, as if trying to tether her to him, but her fingers rested limp in his grasp.

"So, Olivine," Rose said with a warm smile, cutting through the hum of conversation, "have you been to the ballet before?"

Olivine forced a smile, meeting Rose's gaze. "A few times," she said softly. "Not here, though. It's a beautiful venue."

"It is," Rose agreed, her smile growing. "And it's a special treat to have someone so lovely with us tonight. You really elevate the group."

The comment was met with a low scoff from Sarah. "Yeah, she's definitely elevating somebody," Sarah muttered under her breath, throwing a pointed glance at Rafe.

Olivine stiffened slightly, but her practiced smile didn't falter. Rafe, on the other hand, rolled his eyes, muttering a sharp, "Grow up, Sarah."

Sarah ignored him, her gaze softening as she turned to Olivine. "Seriously, though. If you need to blink twice to signal for help, just let me know."

"Sarah," Ward warned, his tone carrying a hint of irritation.

"It's fine," Olivine said quickly, waving off the comment. "Rafe and I are...fine."

Her words hung in the air, hollow and unconvincing, and Rafe's jaw tightened. He leaned down slightly, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "Stop doing that," he muttered.

"Doing what?" she replied without looking at him, her tone light and detached.

"Acting like you're miserable with me."

"I'm not, Rafe please just calm down," she whispered back, the edge in her voice slicing through him.

Before Rafe could respond, Ward clapped his hands, signaling it was time to head into the auditorium. The group moved as one, their laughter and chatter a stark contrast to the growing storm between the couple.

As they found their seats, Olivine slipped into her assigned chair, grateful for the brief reprieve of not having to sit directly next to Rafe. She settled in between Wheezie and Rose, feeling a wave of relief when Rafe was seated at the far end of the row.

The house lights dimmed, and the orchestra began to tune their instruments, the hushed excitement of the audience filling the air. Wheezie leaned over to Olivine, whispering something about how she always found the opening act boring, but Olivine barely registered it. Her mind was elsewhere, replaying Rafe's lies in the car, the blatant deflection in the lobby, and the way he had tried so desperately to keep up appearances.

Her gaze drifted toward him at the end of the row. Even in the dim light, she could see the tension in his posture, his hand gripping the armrest tightly. His eyes flicked to her, catching her staring, and for a moment, something vulnerable flickered across his face.

She looked away first, her lips pressing into a thin line as the curtain rose.

Intermission arrived quickly, and as the Camerons got up to stretch and grab drinks, Rafe wasted no time pulling Olivine aside again.

"Ollie," he started, his voice quiet but urgent. "I know you're still mad about earlier—"

"Rafe," she interrupted, her voice steady but cold. "We said we'd talk about this later."

"I can't wait until later," he insisted, his eyes pleading. "I need you to understand—I wasn't lying. That coke wasn't mine. I swear. Topper left it. You know I wouldn't do that to you."

She crossed her arms, her eyes locking on his with a steely gaze. "Stop. Just stop. Do you even hear yourself? Do you know how exhausting it is to be lied to by the person who's supposed to care about me the most?"

"I'm not lying!" he hissed, his voice rising slightly before he caught himself. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching before stepping closer to her, his hand brushing her arm. "You've got to believe me."

She shook her head, her expression unreadable. "You don't get to play the victim here, Rafe. Not with me. I know it's yours. You can keep spinning this story if it makes you feel better, but I'm not stupid."

He clenched his jaw, his hand dropping to his side. "You think I'm just some...some screw-up who doesn't deserve you, don't you?"

"Don't put words in my mouth," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I never said that. But you lied to me, Rafe. That's what I can't get past right now."

The silence between them was deafening, the noise of the bustling lobby fading into the background.

Finally, she took a small step back, smoothing her dress as she prepared to rejoin his family. "I don't want to have this conversation here," she said firmly. "We'll talk when we're alone. And this time, I need you to be honest."

Without waiting for a response, she walked away, leaving Rafe standing there, the weight of her words sinking into him like stones. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply before following her back to the group.

The rest of the evening loomed ahead, but the cracks in their relationship felt wider than ever.

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Back at Tannyhill, the house was quiet except for the faint sounds of Ward moving Wheezie to her room. The rain had started again, soft against the windows, adding to the muted calm of the night. Rafe helped Olivine out of her coat, his eyes scanning her face, gauging her mood, but she avoided his gaze.

"You can stay here tonight," Ward said as he reappeared, rolling up his sleeves. "We had a little more to drink than we should have. Rafe, fix up the guest room for her, yeah? It's just next to yours."

Rafe nodded, his jaw tightening as he exchanged a brief look with Olivine.

"And Sarah," Ward added as he adjusted Wheezie in his arms, "see if you have something Olivine can borrow for the night."

"On it," Sarah replied cheerily, grabbing Olivine's hand and tugging her toward the stairs. "C'mon, I've got loads of stuff."

Olivine followed Sarah into her room, the door clicking shut behind them. Sarah started rifling through her drawers, tossing a few pieces of clothing onto the bed as she spoke.

"So," Sarah began, her tone casual but laced with curiosity, "what do you even see in Rafe? Like, what's the thing that got you hooked?"

Olivine blinked, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"

Sarah turned, grinning as she tossed a pair of red basketball shorts onto the bed. "You know, the spark. The appeal. Because I'm struggling to wrap my head around the idea of someone willingly dating my brother."

Olivine chuckled nervously, picking at the hem of her dress. "He's...different with me. Kind. Thoughtful. And when he's not trying to put on a front, he's actually really sweet."

Sarah raised an eyebrow, pausing her search to look at Olivine. "Huh. That's...interesting." She grabbed a white padded tank top from the drawer and handed it to her. "He wasn't always like this, you know. The mean streak? The temper? That all came after Mom died. Before that, he was...well, not exactly a saint, but he wasn't this."

Olivine took the clothes, her fingers brushing against the soft fabric. "I can see that. Sometimes, I feel like he's carrying so much that he doesn't know how to let it out."

Sarah nodded, leaning against her desk. "That's a fair read. He's complicated, I'll give him that. But if he's good to you, then I guess I can't complain."

Olivine smiled softly, hugging the clothes to her chest. Before moving towards Sarah's vintage changing screen and stepping out of her dress as she answered.

"He is. Most of the time. I just wish he'd trust me enough to not lie when it matters."

Sarah's eyebrows lifted slightly, her curiosity piqued, but she didn't press further. Instead, she moved towards her and helped unzip her dress and reached out to squeeze Olivine's arm reassuringly.

"Well, you're clearly good for him. I haven't seen him this...stable in a while. But don't let him push your boundaries, okay?"

"I won't," Olivine assured her, though her voice lacked full conviction.

"Good." Sarah grinned, her usual teasing tone returning. "Now go charm him some more or whatever it is you do."

"Goodnight, Sarah," Olivine said with a soft laugh, making her way to the door after changing her dress in hand.

"Goodnight, Olivine," Sarah replied, her grin softening. "And...thanks for putting up with my brother."

When Olivine finally left Sarah's room, dressed in the borrowed red basketball shorts and white tank top, she found Rafe leaning against the wall outside, his arms crossed. His expression was guarded, but his eyes softened when he saw her.

"Guest room's ready," he said, his voice low. "It's right next to mine."

She hesitated for a moment, then spoke, her tone gentle but firm. "Can we talk first?"

He nodded, stepping aside and motioning for her to follow him into the guest room. She walked in, setting the clothes she had folded down on the neatly made bed. When she turned, Rafe was leaning against the doorframe, his jaw tight, his hands shoved into his sweatpants pockets.

"You're mad," he muttered, his voice defensive. "I get it."

"I'm not mad," Olivine corrected softly, walking over to him. "I'm disappointed, Rafe. Disappointed that you didn't tell me you relapsed. And even more disappointed that you tried to lie about it."

He sighed, his shoulders sagging. "I didn't even realize I was doing it at first," he admitted. "The lying—it's like second nature. A reflex. I know it's messed up, and I'm sorry, Liv. I really am."

She stepped closer, reaching for his hand, which was cold and trembling. She wrapped her warm fingers around his, grounding him. "You don't need to be sorry, Rafe. I'm not mad, I promise. But we have to work on this together, okay? We've only been together for four weeks, and I get that trust takes time. But I need you to know that I'm here for you. You don't have to go through this alone."

Rafe swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "You shouldn't have to deal with my shit, though. It's not fair to you."

Olivine shook her head, squeezing his hand tighter. "It's not about fair. It's about wanting to help someone I care about. But, Rafe, you need to want to get clean for yourself. Not because I don't like drugs or because you're worried about what I think. You need to see how it's affecting you. How it's holding you back."

He blinked rapidly, brushing a hand over his face. "I don't even know where to start."

"Start with me," she said gently, moving closer until their bodies nearly touched. "Come to me when you're struggling. Talk to me. I'll do everything I can to help. I'll never force you to go cold turkey or push you into something you're not ready for. But I need you to let me in. Can you do that?"

Rafe nodded, swallowing hard again as his breathing hitched. He blinked away tears, overwhelmed by the mix of shame and gratitude.

Olivine reached up, wrapping her arms around him in a tender embrace. "I've got you," she whispered against his chest, her voice steady and reassuring. "All you have to do is let me."

His arms came around her, pulling her closer, and he buried his face against her neck, pressing soft kisses near her ear. His eyes closed tightly as he melted into her touch—a touch that calmed him, that made him feel whole.

Olivine Heyward wasn't just a girl he loved. She was his anchor, his sanctuary. And as much as he knew he needed to break free from his vices, part of him realized with a dark sense of clarity that she was becoming his new addiction. She was his personal drug, and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to let her go.

"Thank you," he murmured against her skin, his voice hoarse.

She smiled softly, her fingers threading through his hair. "Always, Rafe."

For the first time in years, he felt a flicker of hope—a belief that maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to face his demons alone.

Rafe stayed locked in her embrace for a while, his breathing gradually evening out as he absorbed her warmth. Her presence was a balm, soothing the jagged edges of his thoughts. But in the back of his mind, something darker stirred—a realization that cut both ways.

He pulled back slightly, enough to meet her gaze. Her brown eyes searched his face, soft and unwavering, silently offering a kind of patience and understanding he felt he didn't deserve. His thumb grazed her cheek instinctively, as if grounding himself in her existence.

"Liv..." he began, his voice rough. He paused, his words tangled in his throat. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."

Her lips curled into a faint smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You don't have to 'deserve' me, Rafe. You just have to let me in."

That simple statement hit harder than he wanted to admit. He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I'll try," he said quietly.

She tilted her head, her expression unreadable. "Trying is all I'm asking for."

They stood there for a moment, the room heavy with unspoken tension. Rafe's fingers flexed against her waist, wanting to pull her closer, to drown out the complicated mess inside him with the simplicity of her touch. But she took a small step back, her hands falling from his shoulders to clasp in front of her.

"I should get some sleep," she said gently, though her tone carried an unmissable finality.

Rafe's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Yeah. Right."

He moved toward the door, his footsteps heavier than usual. As he reached for the handle, her voice stopped him.

"Rafe?"

He turned, hope flickering in his chest.

"Goodnight," she said softly, her lips curving into a gentle smile.

"Goodnight, Liv," he replied, his voice low.

He lingered for a moment, reluctant to leave, before finally stepping out and closing the door behind him.

In the dimly lit hallway, Rafe leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair. His chest felt tight, as if the weight of everything he'd been holding back was finally threatening to crush him.

She said she wasn't mad, but he could feel her disappointment like a knife twisting in his gut. That hurt more than her anger ever could.

His hand brushed over his pocket, where his phone vibrated softly. It was Topper, sending a text about some late-night plans, but Rafe ignored it. He couldn't think about anything but Olivine—the way her touch felt like salvation, and the way her words reminded him of how far he still had to go.

He knew he should be grateful for her patience, for the way she didn't give up on him even when he gave her every reason to. But part of him was terrified. Terrified of letting her down again. Terrified of how much he needed her.

Rafe exhaled sharply, his hands balling into fists. He had to do better—not just for her, but for himself. But that gnawing fear remained, a shadow in the back of his mind whispering that she deserved better than him.

For now, though, all he could do was keep his promise to try. To take it one step at a time, starting with not screwing up what they had.

But as he finally pushed off the wall and walked toward his own room, he couldn't shake the darker thought lurking beneath the surface. He'd do anything to keep her by his side—even if it meant dragging her down into his mess. She was his drug, his obsession, and he wasn't sure he could let her go, even if it was the right thing to do.

Olivine was his lifeline. And that scared him more than anything.

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KIKI SPEAKS ;
not edited !!

i'm planning on releasing the sequel/prequel of drew and olivine's actress after the 30 chapter. yall down or should i move it back a bit ???

word count : 3.5k

ENJOY !!
xoxo kiki 💋💋