Chapter Sixteen | True Lovers

♫ True Lovers by Holy Holy

I've never in my life sat on a friend's bedroom floor as she smeared lipgloss on my lips and lined my eyes with eyeliner. I've never been shopping with a group of girlfriends, either, trying on ridiculous sunglasses and having fries and burgers at the food court. I haven't talked to them as the night advanced, as it grew dark and cold outside but warm and cozy inside, giggling at nothing, fighting sleep.

Olivia is my first.

Maybe it's just the circumstances—us being roommates—or her bubbly personality, but as we sit on the carpet beside our beds as some pop song blasts from her speaker (which doubles as alarm clock, she never lets me forget as she's so proud of her purchase), I realize that this is it. This is my teenaged girl experience, something I thought expired when I graduated high school. I thought going to college meant entering womanhood, saying goodbye to experiences like this and hello to responsibility. I thought it was too late for me.

"Okay. Give me your arm," says Olivia, tossing the eyeliner back into her makeup chest.

"What for?" I stick out my arm and she grips it, pulling it into her lap.

"You have a different skintone than I do, so I need to see what lipstick shade I have that matches your complexion," she explains. "And, oh, it also needs to fit the dress. Duh, Olivia."

I almost forget how alone I felt earlier this afternoon at the nail salon, with the guy giving me weirded-out glances because I kept trembling and shocking and    pulling back. I felt better after talking to my Mom for an hour or so, and when I got back Olivia immediately dropped everything to help me get ready. She even got me some lunch, but I'm still too nervous to eat, so she ate hers and mine both.

"Won't lipstick be a little too much?" I make sure I ask it cautiously, as I know Olivia to be the kind of girl to have a shade of red for every occasion—which, full disclaimer, isn't bad. I actually admire that about her. I just don't want to come across as disinterested and unwilling to put the effort in when in reality I don't know what I'm doing and everything feels like too much.

"Lipstick won't ever be too much, Nova. Trust me." Olivia leans forward, holding a lipstick to my lips.

I instinctively purse them a little and she layers it on smoothly.

"Go like this," she says, and then goes 'mwah mwah mwah' repeatedly, nodding as I follow her example. "You look beautiful!"

I feel myself blush and reach for the handheld mirror that's lying by her bed, raising it to my face.

I blink a few times.

And then a few times more.

I barely recognize the girl staring back at me. I've always kind of thought I looked too young. Maybe it's a reflection of how I've been treated my entire life, like I'm smaller than I am, which I can't really blame people for as inbalance is often tied to children, but now— this is different.

The person looking back at me is definitely not a child. She's doe-eyed and has defined features, clear skin and plump lips and an actual jawline, somehow. She's everything I wanted to be for the longest time.

"No!" Olivia exclaims, startling me as she leaps forward. "Don't cry! I couldn't find my waterproof mascara so this'll literally run down your face."

I didn't even realize I was tearing up. "Oh, sorry," I sniff.

She hands me a tissue that I crumple up and dab at the corners of my eyes, then sits back and observes me, releasing a sigh. "I take it you like it, then?" she asks, smiling softly.

I can't look her in the eyes. "I've just never..." Looked or felt like this. "Thank you, Olivia."

"We're not done yet," she tells me matter-of-factly. "I want to go over your hair with my straightener again, just to be sure. I want it to be super sleek, but I still want it to have some volume, you know? You need to be able to walk in the wind and it needs to stay in place all night without me having to use too much hairspray. But that'll probably be inevitable. I should've gotten an odor-less one because now I'm scared that it'll drown out your perfume."

"Why do I feel like you're more nervous about all this than I am?"

Neither one of us moves towards her desk, where her hair-straightener lies in a drawer, so I take it we're having a little break. She's been planning my look (hair and makeup) and then creating it for the entirety of the afternoon, so she deserves it.

"Because you're in a state of denial. You're probably going to get sick in the car or something."

I frown. "That's not very reassuring. I don't want to get sick in Atlas' car."

She shakes her head with a laugh, clasping a hand in front of her mouth. "Sorry. You're right, I take that back. I just mean, it isn't hitting you yet." This time she does stand, retrieving her straightener and plugging it in.

I lean to the side until I'm lying down, propped up on my elbow as I follow her easy movements with my eyes. "I just don't think I really get it," I say, emphasizing the 'get'. "Everyone's talking about this unveiling, Wilder and Macarevich, and I just feel like I missed something big."

"You did," Olivia hums.

"So? Fill me in, please, Olivia."

"Okay, okay." She puts the straightener on her desk, then comes to lie next to me, facing the ceiling as I face her. "You know the history right? I don't need to fill you in on what Wilder and Macarevich are..."

I recall the day in Central Park with Atlas and Rosie. "Multinational technology companies," I recite.

"Right. But they're also into real estate now because it's never enough when you're rich," Olivia snorts. "Anyway. They're the biggest in the game, currently. Even if you don't know who Hudson and Sergei are, you've been in touch with their companies somehow. They're as scary as Nestle; at first you think, "Oh, Nestle, I recognize that name", but when you do more digging you think, "Oh, fuck, Nestle controls the entire food industry, I guess". That's what Wilder and Macarevich are, but in the digital world. Every social media platform, every AI invention, every device is somehow, for some part, controlled by them.

"Since Wilder and Macarevich are two similar corporations, everyone kind of thought that they were rivals, like Apple versus Android or something. This or that. Until twenty-sixteen, when Hudson Wilder and Sergei Macarevich were spotted leaving a start-up in California. Then they were in Nigeria, then Paris, then they spent some time in South-Korea and Singapore, then came back to New York, and everyone's theories of "they hate each other" were debunked. So, another theory was born: a collaboration. The two biggest tech companies in the world were obviously brewing something up. Then, in late twenty-seventeen, they confirmed in a super vague press conference that something big was coming and everyone kind of forgot about it until they announced the very unveiling you're attending tonight."

"So... Realistically speaking, what they're unveiling tonight could be..."

"Commercial space travel, real-life superheroes, a time machine?" She throws her hands up and then drops them to the floor with a 'thud'. "Honestly, the most ridiculous things are plausible in whatever reality they seem to be living in."

A beat passes before I can even pronounce it. "And I've been invited."

Olivia sits up, twisting her upper body to face me. "Is it sinking in? Do you have to throw up?" I can't really tell if she's concerned about me possibly puking, or if she's just excited.

"Yes, it is, and not yet," I say, with a finger raised. "This just makes me understand Atlas inviting me even less."

She shrugs casually. "What's there to not understand? He likes you and he wants to impress you."

"I—"

"Oh! My straightener! Come sit, it should be hot by now." She jumps up swiftly and pulls out her desk chair, before I can even find the energy to stand up from the floor.

It startles me momentarily when I see my reflection in the mirror hanging alongside Olivia's desk, but she turns my head to face forwards and picks up a strand of my hair when I'm seated, the straightener—or my hair, I'm not sure—hissing as she pulls it down.

"What it comes down to..." she says, after a few moments of just the music and the hiss making any noise. "Is that you're attending a really cool thing tonight. And I am very jealous of you."

"I wish I could take you with me," I say. It would be nice if she could keep my conversations with Atlas going and charm people so I didn't have to. Most of all, I feel comfortable with Olivia, and Atlas makes me nervous.

Everyone makes me nervous. But him especially.

"Ah, me too. But, this is your moment to shine. Mine will come. Will I meet a billionaire's son and charm him the way you did? Probably not. But I trust the universe to pay me back for how well I'm handling my jealousy right now."

I laugh into the mirror as she holds a hand above my eyes to shield them from the hairspray she's using, a white cloud emitting from the can.

"Hey, by the way, have you spoken to your family lately?" I ask after a few moments.

"My family? Uh, yeah, a few times. Why?"

I shrug my shoulders as Olivia runs her fingers through my hair. "You told me you miss it a few weeks ago. Being at home, I mean. I've been meaning to ask how everything is now, but it never came of it. Do you still feel uncomfortable here?"

She doesn't look at me as she starts collecting the makeup scattered about the carpeted floor. "I can't believe you remember that, I mentioned it once," she mutters.

I raise my eyebrows at her in response, but she doesn't see it.

"I've been thinking about going back," she admits, then, taking a seat on her bed and kicking her legs up.

"For Halloween? Or Thanksgiving?"

"Forever."

I perk up. "You want to drop out?"

"Well, no. I don't want to drop out..." she trails off. She finally looks at me, her expression conflicted. "That sounds way too serious. I just want to stop for a bit. I need a break. Which, I know, sounds absolutely ridiculous, but it's all moving too fast. And, I love New York. When I got into NYU, it was literally a dream come true, but it isn't supposed to feel like this. Right?"

I stand up from her desk chair to drop onto her bed next to her. We're both in our pajamas, as she insisted getting ready was supposed to be a comfortable experience, so we've been switching between our beds and the carpet for the past two to three hours.

"I'm going to tell you something my Mom told me before I left for New York," I say.

She adjusts herself, tucking one leg beneath her as she faces me, two hands on her knees.

"It's not supposed to be an embodiment of your dream."

"What does that mean?" Olivia asks, frowning at me.

"It means that the reality of things is naturally different than your expectations. It means that it's inevitable that things will go wrong and feel worse than you envisioned. And, it also means that regardless of how much better your dreams were than the reality of chasing them are, that's not to say that continuing to try is futile. If you're struggling and if things are getting difficult to navigate, it means that you should ask for help. It doesn't necessarily mean that you're doing the wrong thing."

Olivia presses her knuckles to her nose and then releases an awkward, short laugh. "Your mom said all that?"

"Well, no, she sent me off with that vague first sentence. The rest I figured out myself," I tell her playfully. "Point is, it may not be the way you planned or envisioned. But that's okay and it's definitely normal. So, if that's what you're worried about... don't. Stop it."

She smiles at me, genuinely this time. "You know, there's one thing about all this that's better than I ever dared to dream about," she says.

"What's that?"

Her hands land on either side of my face and she smushes them together. "You! My cute, wise-ass roommate!" she exclaims.

I burst out laughing, prying her hands off of me. "Olivia, my makeup!"

"Oh, shit, sorry. I'll touch up, come sit on the floor again."

We both move onto the carpet again and she pulls her makeup chest closer to her, popping the lid off.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Well..." she trails off. She squeezes some foundation onto the back of her hand and then dabs her beauty blender in a few times. "Are you okay?"

I can't remember the last time someone asked me that. This afternoon my mother naturally asked what was up, but I don't think anyone's genuinely been curious to know how I'm doing.

I don't blame them, at all. If there's one thing I've learned so far is that everyone around me has stuff going on, and it's normal for it to slip their mind that those around them might also be struggling.

Can I say I'm struggling, though? Compared to Olivia's home sickness, Milo's issues with his father and Logan's potential bullying situation?

"I'm okay." I breathe it out.

"Good. Though, I hadn't really expected anything else, considering all this," she teases.

Olivia helps me into my dress half an hour before Atlas is expected to show up outside of our door. Now that my hair and makeup's all done, too, I almost feel too dressed up, but she reminds me that there's no such thing when you're hanging out with actual billionaires.

"Look at you," she gushes when we're all done, but the smile fades from her face when she sees my facial expression. "Oh, no. It's sinking in."

I turn to her. "This is a very much awaited event. There'll be photographers, won't there? He's like, one of the most important people in attendance? Isn't he?"

"Noooo..." Olivia trails off.

I inhale sharply as my palms grow sweatier by the second, my heart drumming in my chest as a small spark of tension starts in my core and then ignites, setting each of my limbs on fire. "Yes. What am I thinking? I'll just embarrass him. Oh, my God. Help me out of this dress."

"Okay— hold on." Olivia takes a hold of me, putting both of her hands on my shoulders and gripping them with such force that for just a moment it distracts from the anxious aches in my limbs. "Nova. You're... braver than you believe. You're stronger than you seem. And you are smarter than you think. You got this."

I frown. "Is that...?"

"Winnie the Pooh? Yeah. Not everyone is as effortless and quick with original inspirational quotes as you are, okay?"

That makes me laugh.

Olivia guides me to my desk chair and clicks on the lamp. It's already grown dark outside and where the dorm felt cozy and warm before, now it just makes me anxious, knowing I'll have to trade it in for exposure and embarrassment, inevitably.

I'm scared that I've just been romanticizing it, that I haven't taken it as seriously as I should have. It could've saved me from whatever's happening tonight.

"What are you so afraid of?" Olivia asks me.

I notice the way she's crouched down and the way I'm sitting, with my hands curled up into tensed, trembling fists in my lap. Like this afternoon, I can't seem to unfold them, and it makes me want to bury them in the wall out of frustration. If I could just do something as simple as unfolding my hands on command, I'd feel better about tonight.

But I'm sitting here like this instead. I've fooled Olivia by pretending to be the normal kind of girl friend to paint nails with and do makeup with and talk about boys with, all the while ignoring the fact that maybe that's never been in the cards of me for a reason. Now I'm sitting here like a pouting child, and she's crouching down like a mother, and it's all wrong and embarrassing.

I want to believe that I'm doing this to myself. That somehow, this tension is something I create all by myself and that it's something to undo, but no matter how hard I try, my body is stuck in its entirety.

"Nothing. I'm just nervous. I have to calm down. Sorry." I hope that by saying that I'll get her to stand up and start talking to me casually again, but the damage is done.

"Okay. We'll just take a second, then." She remains crouched on the floor before me and I can't handle it.

I stand up from my desk chair. "I'm getting some water." I snatch my tumbler off of my desk and lock myself in the bathroom, filling it up end then not drinking it because I can just envision peeing myself in Atlas' car or at the venue. Everything I do can eventually work against me.

I try to set my tumbler down on the sink, but my hands are knocking against it every few seconds, as if someone's giving me electrical shocks from a distance. How do I know I won't be like this all night? How can I trust myself?

It's too late to cancel now. My phone's in the room with Olivia (and I'm too humiliated to face her) and Atlas is probably almost here by now. I'd be a jerk if I told him to turn around and go alone, especially now that he's spent so much money on me.

The only thing I want less than to embarrass myself somehow, is disappoint him. But I feel like I will, either way.

"Nova?" Olivia's voice is muffled outside the bathroom door. "Atlas is calling you."

I inhale deeply. Maybe this call will save me. Maybe it's him telling me, you know what, nevermind.

I open the door and take the call, holding the phone a few inches from my face so I don't get makeup on the screen and avoiding Olivia's eye. She gets the memo and starts cleaning the space.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Carter." Atlas sounds cheery. His voice is still quite deep and he's not the kind of guy to shout with joy, but I can hear his slight smile in the way he pronounces the words. "I'm at Weinstein Hall, but I forgot what dorm you're in."

The idea of him being so close makes me want to scream, but he's so casual it kind of calms me down, too.

"I'm in 242," I say.

"Right. I'll be there in five minutes."

I expect him to hang up after that, but he doesn't. Keeping the phone to my ear, I collect my purse and give Olivia a smile that hopefully says, "thank you" and "I'm sorry", simultaneously. She gives me two thumbs up and a big smile in response.

"Are you nervous? Big night tonight," I say into the phone, hoping he'll say yes so it'll make two of us.

"I'm always nervous about these type of things. It's easy to forget how impactful it all is, until a night like this comes along," he tells me. "But I'm glad I'm not doing it alone tonight."

I roll my lips in to stop myself from smiling, starting down the hall and swaying my purse back and forth. "Are you usually alone?"

"I can't say that, I suppose. Maxwell and Milo have always accompanied me. But Max is bringing his girlfriend tonight and those two are inseparable, and Milo's not coming."

"Oh. He's not?" I halt in my step, lingering there for a few beats, but then step forward again. I don't think I really expected him to be there tonight, with all that's going on between him and Sergei Macarevich, but from a self-centered point of view, the more familiar faces, the better. And aside from Olivia, Milo's kind of been hauling me through the past few weeks.

"Yeah. But don't fret, he's invited us over to his for Halloween tomorrow. Which... I now remember, I'm not actually supposed to tell you yet."

"You're really forgetful tonight, Atlas," I notice, chuckling.

"I know, I'm nervous, okay?" He laughs. Just then, at the end of the hall, a man in a deep-green, velvet suit rounds the corner, one hand pressing a phone to his ear and the other buried in his pocket, where the sleeve bundles up slightly to reveal a golden watch. Just when I see him, he notices me, his eyes unblinking and his feet halting. After a few moments he adds, "Yeah. I'm really nervous."

I don't think I ever knew the difference between my heart pounding and my heart fluttering, but now I know it's the intention behind it. My heart pounded back in the dorm, in my head and my throat and my limbs until it paralyzed me.

Now my heart is fluttering. It doesn't hurt. Not even in the slightest.

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