There are moments in life that define you, that shape you for the rest of your life. It's like that Gwyneth Paltrow movie, where her destiny is chosen by whether or not she gets on a train. If she gets on it, she arrives home on time, finds her boyfriend cheating on her, breaks up with him, finds a better guy and lives happily ever after. If she doesn't get on the train, she has to put up with her boyfriend's constant lies and cheating, eventually breaks up with him upon finding him at his mistress' house, and subsequently meets a better guy, where I guess they live happily ever after.

This is my dilemma.

To be Olivia Campbell, or not to be Olivia Campbell?

This moment, right here, right now, sitting before Elliott Anthony, this is my get on the train, or don't on the train moment.

If I'm not Olivia Campbell, I'm just me. The withdrawn shell of Peyton Ellis, who is still utterly heartbroken about her boyfriend walking away from her. The girl who's been a ghost for the better part of six months. The girl who will never let herself love, or be loved, by anyone else.

If I am Olivia Campbell, then who knows what, or who, I'll become? I could be anyone. I could be carefree. I could be happy. I could be the total opposite of what I am now.

Could I be Olivia Campbell?

I look up and see Elliott's green eyes burning into mine, waiting for my answer. His lips are drawn into an almost perfect line, his brows furrowed in concentration and his hands wrapped tightly around his coffee mug.

I've heard what people say about Elliott Anthony, and not all of it is good. He's a player, obviously that much I knew. Don't let the fact that he goes to a Catholic school fool you. Rumor has it that he has a different girl in his bed on a weekly basis and he's not the type to call you in the morning. He has a close knit group of friends that no one can get close to, and you'll never see Elliott talking to strangers. It's a miracle he gets girls, but I think with girls, the least amount of talking done, the better. They must like his strong silent character and all it really takes is one look from him and their panties automatically drop.

Yet, despite knowing that I could potentially just be another girl to have fallen under Elliott's charms, I still find myself nodding along to his question.

"Yes," my shaky voice comes out weak. "I am Olivia Campbell."

I kept my gaze on him. If I hadn't, I might have missed the way Elliott's lips tugged up slightly at the corners. His green eyes sparkled under the soft lighting where we sat, and he bobbed his head slowly while turning his attention back to his hot chocolate. He took a sip of the warm liquid, closed his eyes in appreciation, and then looked out the coffee shop window onto the street outside.

It was mid-December, only two weeks before Christmas, and there was a light dusting of snow covering the sidewalk. The streets around Easton had been cleared during the day, but as night fell, so did a new flurry of fine snow. Seasonal lights covered the many buildings, illuminating the otherwise darkened streets, and they twinkled in dancing movements.

From where I sat, I could see the large Fir tree that dominated the town square, the twinkling lights flashing like stars. An angel sat on her perch, gazing over Easton like a Guardian Angel, watching and waiting. There were several colorfully decorated boxes sitting under the tree, empty, naturally, but they symbolized a promise of what would come in just fourteen days' time. Children loved to crowd around the tree, whispering to each other what they had wished for for Christmas. Soon enough, the carol singers will be out in force, singing their melodic tunes.

"I love Christmas," Elliott suddenly says, drawing my attention to him. I'm not sure when he had turned back to look at me, but from the way his head lopped to one side and his smile trained on me, I could tell he'd been watching me for a while. "Don't you, Olivia?"

The words that formed on my tongue lodged themselves there, not brave enough to be vocalized. Instead, I nodded my agreement and shifted my gaze to the cinnamon latte Elliott had bought for me.

"So, what do you want to do after this coffee date, Olivia?" Elliott asked, mimicking my movements by drinking from his own mug. When I indifferently shrugged my shoulder, Elliott frowned. "There's nothing you want to do? No offence, but sitting in Bean all night doesn't sound like the best first date."

"No offence," I found myself bold enough to say. "But you're not exactly the type of boy to make it to a second date, so what do you care if this one sucks or not?"

As soon as the words left my lips, my hand came up to clamp over my mouth. I could feel my eyes widening with shock, but that was nothing compared to the look on Elliott's face. He looked amused, yet hurt, by my words. A flash of anger, perhaps, ran through his eyes, but that emotion was soon replaced with a look of determination.

"Elliott," I sigh, dropping my head in shame. It hadn't been my intention to bring up his reputation, and I knew that my words must have cut, even slightly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"It's fine. You just said the truth," Elliott said, waving his hand dismissively. He took out his cell phone, making me panic that he was already looking for a way to bail out on me. Elliott frowned as he scrolled though his phone before clicking the screen to black and setting it down on the table between us. "Have you ever wanted to be a different person, Olivia?"

"I guess," I say in a non-committal tone. "I once wanted to be Keira Knightley."

"No, I mean, do you want to change yourself? Be a better person?" Elliott elaborates on his question.

"Doesn't everyone?" I ask rhetorically. "For me, I'd like to be more like my old self, and not like this."

"What was your old self like?" Elliott sits forward and regards me carefully.

"Fearless," my mouth runs away with me as I answer.

"What's stopping you from being fearless now?"

"Me," I whisper to myself, although my voice was audible enough that Elliott shook his head, not understanding me. I shift and turn my attention back to the scene outside, my eyes becoming unfocused as I explained. "When you jump, you fall but it's okay because you're fearless. Then when you hit the ground, you break into shattered pieces. You get up and rebuild yourself, but you're not quite how you used to be. You're damaged and you're not so fearless anymore. You want to protect yourself, so you put up your walls and make it impossible to get hurt again."

Elliott sat back in his chair and a soft smile warmed his features when I turned to face him. "Fortune favors the brave. If you're brave enough to jump regardless of what might happen, you never know what might be waiting at the bottom to catch you."

"Very philosophical," I laugh in spite of myself. "What movie or book did you steal that from?"

"It's an Elliott Rhys Anthony original," he winks at me. "Just for you to know, I've done my Googling, and I've pretty much planned this date out, but first I have a question for you. Do you have a curfew?"

My parents used to be those overprotective types that would demand Markus bring me home by nine pm. sharp or I'd face some serious consequences. Since the break-up, however, things have been different. They've become more relaxed and don't try to keep tabs on me like they used to. Since Markus and I split, and I became this shell of a human, Mom and Dad actively encouraged me to go out more often and to hang out with my friends. Despite this, I still favored sitting alone in my room, or here at Bean, contemplating the meaning of life.

"No, I don't," I finally answer, albeit, warily. "Why, what do you have planned?"

"Oh, come on, Olivia," Elliott's leg tapped against mine playfully as he spoke. "Where's he fun in me telling you? Give me your drink so I can ask the barista to put it in a take-out cup, and then we can really get this date started."

Elliott stood from where he sat and pulled his beanie hat over his unruly hair. Once he was satisfied with how it sat, he pulled on his coat and pocketed his cell. He patted down his pockets to ensure he had his wallet and keys and then picked up his mug.

I took one last sip of my latte before Elliott swiped it from me. I watched from where I sat as he confidently sauntered over to the barista and handed both his mug and mine to the young girl. I recognized her as Hanna Averman, a junior at St. Bernadette's, who blatantly had a crush on Elliott. She eyed him as if he was something she could sink her teeth into and devour, liking her lips seductively every now and then. She ran her hand through her long blonde hair more than was really necessary. I mean, she brushed it out of her eyes once already, why keep repeating the movement?

Hanna made small talk with Elliott as she slowly transferred our drinks from the mugs to the take-out cups, and every now and then she'd give a flirtatious laugh. I'm not sure what Elliott was saying to her to receive such a reaction, but she seemed to be enjoying the conversation nonetheless. Elliott, meanwhile, shifted uncomfortably where he stood. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders slouched forwards, almost like he was trying to make himself smaller, and a slight blush had crept onto his cheeks. Every few seconds, one of his hands would come out from hiding to rub the back of his neck awkwardly.

I watched as Hanna poured the last dregs of the hot chocolate into the take out cup and took that as my signal to go and join Elliott at the counter. I hugged my coat against me and did up the zipper.

Elliott noticed my presence instantly. As soon as I was at his side, his body relaxed and his face broke out into a grateful smile. Hanna shot me a glare but I paid her no attention. She placed the tops onto both take-out cups and slid the hot chocolate across the counter. With the latte, she picked up a marker pen and scrawled something onto the side of the cup. When she slid that one over, her smile screamed of wanton lust.

I rolled my eyes, slid the hot chocolate into Elliott's hands and then picked up my latte. I spun the cup, saw Hanna's number written on the side and barely contained an eye roll. Honestly, what type of girl hits on a guy when he's on a date with someone else? Ok, so it might be a fake date- or a hijacked date- but it was still a date.

"Are you ready?" Elliott asked, snapping me out of my thoughts. He slung an arm around my shoulders and pulled me to nestle in at his side. "Let's get this epic date underway."

If looks could kill, I'd be six feet underground from the death glare Hanna sent me. The way her beady eyes burned against me was enough to send unwanted shivers down my spine. I tried to shrug them off, but I still felt dirty underneath.

I allowed Elliott to guide me to the door and I slipped out of the coffee shop as he held the door open for me. Once we were outside, I felt Elliott's arm retake its place across the back of my neck, his hand resting assuredly against my shoulder. We walked the short distance to the end of the street and veered left onto Mason Avenue. When we rounded the corner, Elliott let out a sigh of relief.

"Are you okay with my arm around you like this?" He asks almost shyly, a character trait I hadn't expected from him.

In all honestly, I hadn't given much thought to the fact that his arm was around me. Maybe, if I wasn't so messed up, I might have fangirled about it and gone into imagination overdrive about what the small, insignificant gesture meant. Yet, I was messed up, and a boy flinging his arm over my shoulders was just a guy flinging his arm over my shoulders.

Plus, I figured Elliott only did it to stop Hanna from overly flirting with him like she had been doing.

"Yeah, I'm okay with it," I find myself saying, even though I knew by saying that, Elliott wouldn't remove his arm.

Maybe subconsciously, that was what I wanted all along.