{5}

Chapter 5: (Olivia's POV) "I've also accidentally robbed a bank," I said. We were currently walking around, eating ice lollies. "Wait what?" he chuckled. "I'm kidding, I was just checking to see if you were still listening," I laughed. "I'm listening, Oliver," he said while we strolled around. "Why must you call me that, bellboy?" I sighed. "Why must you call me that, Olive?" he said mockingly. "Because you call me Olive, even though you know that's not my name," I retorted. "You've been calling me Miles since the third grade, Olivia," he scoffed. "I have such a pretty, lyrical name. Olivia, you just said it. But you will never call me that. Oliver Twist, Oliver, Olive, do I look green to you?" "No, but you look like an Olive," he shrugged. I shoved him, causing him to stumble while laughing and walking. "You're such a prick," I shook my head. "I am," he nodded, "What color is my tongue?" he asked, sticking his tongue out. "Blue," I stated, "What color is mine?" I asked, sticking my own tongue out. "Red," he answered. "Let's make purple," I snorted. He shook his head, smiling at me, rolling his eyes, "I remember why I hate you now," he nodded. "Why's that?" I grinned. "Because you say shit like that," he scoffed. "You've kissed me three times, Ethan Miles Archer," I replied. "Two. Two times. The third time, you kissed me," he answered smugly. "Did you push me off? No. Did you kiss me back? Yes," I taunted. "She was watching," he huffed. "That's none of my business, I wouldn't know," I shrugged. "Real smart, Olivia Carrington, play it off like you didn't know," he chuckled. I smiled, throwing the wrapper in the trash can that we came across. "Can I know why you asked me to help you with this? Wouldn't it be easier to pretend with someone who you… don't hate?" he asked. "You were the first guy I saw nearby who isn't my dad or grandpa's age, who else would I ask?" I shrugged. "But still. Me? Really?" he questioned. I looked up at him, confused. This sounded like he was talking about something else. "Are we still talking about the deal?" "What else would we be talking about?" he asked. "I don't know," I mumbled, "Anyway, you were the first guy I saw, and while I hate you and you're very annoying, you're not too bad to look at. And he wouldn't have guessed it was you because we have enmity that goes way back, am I right?" "Right," he answered, looking at me weirdly. "But why would anyone date their current or ex enemy?" he questioned. "Love turns into hate all the time, hate can turn into love too. In fact, it's a thin line. A lot of people confuse their hate for love and their love for hate," I explained. I've read that somewhere, I don't know how accurate it is though and I don't even remember where I read it. "Is that your way of telling me you're in love with me?" he smirked. "Haha. No, but you sure wish it was," I replied. "Hmm," he hummed in response while we tossed the popsicle sticks into the nearest trash. "How many people from school do you think have seen us while we take this stroll around town?" I asked. "Probably a few, not too many though, I doubt word would spread," he said while looking around. "Right, well then, if anyone asks, this was a date," I shrugged. "A date? Okay, I can work with that," he smirked. "The arrogance in you really astonishes me at times," I said, narrowing my eyes at him. "I have to get home," I said, pulling my phone out of my back pocket. "Why? Got a guest waiting at home for you?" he asked, walking with me. "No, but my parents leave for New York tonight. Some work stuff, I don't really know. They'll be back in ten days. I'm supposed to be home by 3 o'clock," I explained. "It's 2:15 though," he said in confusion. "Is Ethan Archer asking me to spend more time with him?" I teased. "I don't hate you when you're not being annoying, Olivia," he said. I gasped, "You called me Olivia," I sang. "I feel like you like it better that way," he said, eyeing me with a scrutinizing gaze. "Maybe I do," I shrugged. "Maybe you do," he nodded. He says my name differently, or maybe it just sounds different coming from him, but I did prefer when he called me Olivia. Not Oliver Twist, or Oliver, or Olive, or even Liv. Just Olivia. "Now, the real question is, will you be a gentleman and walk me home, which also increases the chances of people seeing us and assuming we're dating which makes it more believable, or will you go your way if you've got somewhere to be and I go mine?" I asked. "I'll walk you, it makes it more believable," he shrugged, walking with me. "That's the reason, you sure?" I taunted. He elbowed me as we walked, me laughing and him shaking his head, rolling his eyes with a smile. He's not that bad. I hate to admit it, but he's genuinely not that bad. I still hate him, I definitely still do, just maybe not as much as I did. He still shouldn't have pushed me off the swing and broken my ankle, or splattered paint on my drawings, or filled up my locker with water balloons, or kissed… Whatever he shouldn't have done anything like that, to begin with, but knowing him a little better and spending the day with him, the idea of him doing it all just because he was a kid and immature, seems a lot more believable than it did. Keep in mind, the reason I told myself was because the Devil sent him. Hence, the nickname. Devil's bellboy. He's still the Devil's bellboy, he's still very annoying, just a little lesser than he was at the beginning. He walked me home, we talked shit about people and things the whole time, and then we arrived. "Well, that's me. Thank you for the walk and the ridiculously cliche date," I smiled, pulling out my keys. "You're most welcome," he smirked, walking backward out of my driveway, still facing me. "Bye," I said, turning around to head inside. "Olive!" I rolled my eyes. We're still at Olive. I turned to face him, raising a brow. "I'll pick you up tomorrow. For school at 7:30 don't be late," he winked before walking over to his house. I scoffed to myself before letting myself into the sight of my parents packing. "You guys are already leaving?" I asked in confusion. "Your mother wants to shop, we're meeting your aunt in New York," my dad said, grunting as he picked up the suitcase and set it on its wheels. "So, we've got to buy her gifts," my mom grinned. I walked over to my dad, "I hope your credit card is loaded then," I mumbled. We looked at each other and I bit back a laugh while he groaned. "Ready to go, Maya?" he asked. We said goodbye and then they left. I locked the front door before going upstairs. I grabbed my pajamas because I have nowhere to go after this and headed for my shower. Once I came out of the shower and stood at my vanity and towel-dried my hair, I heard clattering. And, my God… I wish I looked around earlier because I was going to fucking scream. "Don't, don't, don't," he whispered in a panic, walking over to me and stood mere inches away, his eyes scanning my face. "Don't freak out," he whispered. "What the hell are you doing here, Ethan?" I asked, pushing him back. "Annabelle showed up at my goddamn house and my mother has no idea what happened, so-" He stopped talking and we both turned to his room, where Annabelle was entering. "So she let her in, are you wearing anything under that robe?" he frowned in confusion. "Ethan," I said slowly and warningly. "Just asking," he shrugged. "Why the hell would you ask that?" I huffed, walking over to my window, hoping to close the blinds before she noticed but my luck? No. Was I rude enough to snap them shut in her face? Also no. But was I rude enough to act like I didn't see her? Yes. I turned to Ethan, "Don't you think your ex is going a little… overboard?" I asked. "Don't you think I'm seeing that?" he huffed, glancing at her. "She's looking." "What are you gonna do?" "Can we do something to make her want to leave, right?" he asked. "Like what?" I questioned. "Make her think we're about to have sex," he shrugged. "Haha," I rolled my eyes. "I'm not kidding," he scoffed, "Oh, she's looking," he said before throwing his shirt off. "I don't think this is for her to see," I narrowed my eyes at him. "No, it's just to get on your nerves," he winked, tossing it on my bed. . . . . . Chapter 6