25. Confessions of a Drunken Dumpling

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"Ryan Lovejoy." Ollie curls his upper lip, baring his teeth like a 2-month-old kitten who thinks he's a fierce lion. "Sounds like a porn star's name, don't you think?"

I snort, my shoulders shaking with amusement. As Ollie grumbles on and on about Ryan, I grab a chair and sit next to the hospital bed he's lying on.

It takes three hours for the doctor to finish treating Ollie's injuries, and to Ollie's complete and utter dismay, she refuses to discharge him until he's sober. Considering Ollie is still grousing nonstop like a kid not getting his Christmas present, that may take about six or seven more hours.

". . . I ever meet that creep ever again, I swear on my future wife's future grave, I'll grind his bones to make my b—"

As I stifle a giggle, Ollie stares at me with an adorable grumpy expression on his face. "What?"

"Are you jealous?" I tease.

"Damn right I am!"

I gape at him in shock. A ray of hope beams inside me as I learn something new about my best friend.

Some people do reckless things when they're drunk. Some people turn into total psychos when they're drunk. Ollie, on the other hand, seems to be losing all the filters in his mind—which is not always a bad thing.

"What were you thinking, Ness? Why'd you put me in the same room with him? You know—" He lets out a harsh, scornful breath and balls his fist. "He's lucky I didn't break his perfect teeth."

I pat his shoulder, struggling to contain the laughter swelling up my throat. "Hate to break this to you, buddy. But you're the one who's lying on a bed in an ER."

A frown yanks down the corners of his mouth as he gives me the side-eye, looking like the most adorable baby panda.

With a loud puff of frustration, he throws his head back and winces when it hits the pillow. "This is gonna hurt like hell tomorrow."

I tangle our fingers together, my thumb rubbing small circles over his knuckles to comfort him. "Hey, you might find this hard to believe, but Ryan is an extremely nice guy. Much better than all of the guys I've dated."

"Yeah, right," Ollie scoffs. "What kind of a man wants to marry a woman he's only been dating for three weeks?"

"What kind of a man sister-zoned the woman he obviously has feelings for?" I mutter to myself.

"But you know who pisses me off the most?"

"Who?"

"You."

I jerk my head back and blink. "Me?"

"Yes! You!" His chest expands before he blows out another huff. "I hate it when you do things for him."

"Yeah?" I lean my elbows beside him on the bed and prop my chin in my free hand. "What kind of things?"

"I hate the way you smile at him. Or how you let him . . ." He purses his lips together and continues through gritted teeth, "Kiss your neck."

I bite back a grin. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. And I hate the way you're dressing up for him—not that I want you to dress up for me or anything." He shoots me a cautious glance before redirecting his gaze back to the ceiling. "I mean, why do you have to go through all the trouble of changing your appearance for him? Why can't you just wear your horror movie sweatshirts when you go on dates with him? They're awesome, and if he can't see that, then he can go fuck himself."

An irresistible fit of giggles slips out of me. The thought of videotaping Ollie's drunken confession sounds like a terrific idea.

But before I can reach for my phone, he says, "Stop seeing him, Ness."

"Why should I?"

"Because he's not good enough for you."

"Yeah?" As his fingers toy with mine, I tilt my head to the side and rest my cheek on the back of his hand. "Then who's good enough for me?"

"I don't know." His thumb caresses my cheek, awakening the butterflies in my stomach. "Just . . . stop seeing him, okay?"

"But why?" I insist, teasing him—no, challenging him to face his true feelings and tell me the real reason he wants me to stop seeing Ryan.

"Because I hate him."

I chuckle. "I'm not gonna stop seeing someone because you hate him, Ol. Who do you think you are?"

"I'm your horror buddy. I'm your lunch buddy. I'm your best buddy." There's no mistaking the pride in his voice, and it irritates me to the core.

A mischievous idea pops into my head, and I smirk. "Tell you what. If you want me to stop seeing Ryan, then you'll have to find the magic sentence."

Ollie snaps his head in my direction, his eyes glittering with curiosity. "What magic sentence?"

"If I tell you what it is, then it will lose its magic. Use your brain for once, will you?" I poke him in the middle of his forehead, right next to the fresh stitches.

He pouts, his eyes creasing a little in disappointment. "Considering I almost died tonight, why don't you humor me and give me a clue?"

"Fair point." I nod and hold up three fingers. "It consists of three words."

"Hmm." He chews his lips, deep in thought. After a few seconds, he gasps. His eyes sparkle with revelation; it's as if he's having an aha moment.

Holy arrows of Cupid. Has he seriously found the magic sentence? So soon?

As he tightens his grip around my hand, my throat dries and my heart pounds with anticipation. Very, very slowly, he opens his mouth wide, causing me to grind my teeth. Is this it? Is this it? Is this

"I'm Mr. Dumpy?"

I choke on air, my jaw dropping to the ground with a crack. Within seconds, a roar of laughter erupts from my belly. "You're such an idiot, Ol!"

His face goes red with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. "Oh, come on, Ness. I'm your very own Mr. Dumpy! Mr. Dumpy has got to have some special privileges, right?"

I break into an uncontrollable guffaw, prompting one of the nurses to slide the curtain open a little. As she glares at me, I offer her an apologetic grin and try my best to control myself.

"I never thought I'd say this to anyone, but . . ." I wipe the tears from my cheeks. "I kinda like this drunken version of you, Ol."

"That's a first."

"Not that you should be a drunkard or anything," I warn, raising a finger, "but you should stop thinking too much. Listen to your heart. Do whatever this"—I poke a finger at the center of his chest—"tells you to."

Something dawns in his eyes—realization, wistful longing, or perhaps even hope, but he blinks it away. "Well, I'm not drunk. I just drank five glasses tonight." A winning smirk curls his lips as a vomiting sound resonates from behind the drawn curtain to his right. "I'll have you know I can drink up to ten glasses without even getting dizzy."

"And when exactly was that?"

"Back in my college days."

I sneer at him. "I hate to tell you this, Mr. Dumpy, but you're not twenty-one anymore."

"Yeah, but—"

"And when was the last time you got some sleep?" A surge of concern sweeps away my irritation as I brush a thumb over the dark smudge around his uninjured eye—one that is much more severe than usual.

"Twenty days a—shit." Subtle lines form across his swollen forehead as he mutters to himself, "I shouldn't have told you that."

As another string of chuckles tumbles out of my mouth, Ollie breathes out a defeated sigh.

"I miss you, Ness. And honestly, I haven't been able to sleep as well as when you were sleeping beside me that cursed Christmas Adam."

A smile slides across my lips as my mind takes me down memory lane.

Two years ago, Ollie and I spent over ten hours in the hospital because the emergency department was overcrowded. While we waited for the doctors to treat his injury, we watched some movies on his phone until we fell asleep.

I still remember the look on Ollie's face when I woke up that day. There was something about it that made me want to wake up next to him every single morning. Maybe it was the warmth in his mesmerizing eyes. Or maybe it was that tiny, adoring smile on his perfect lips. Or maybe it was simply his soothing voice.

Whatever it was, there was something about that moment that brought me so much joy.

"Sleeping just doesn't feel the same without you next to me, Ness. I mean, is it too much to want to sleep next to you and wake up next to you for once? Do I have to wake up on a hospital bed to see your face first thing in the morning?"

I smother a chuckle. "All you gotta do is ask, Ol. It's that simple."

"Really?" He bolts upright in the bed, his eyes lighting up like fireworks on the Fourth of July. "Then . . ."

A chortle escapes me as he struggles to open his swollen eyelid a bit wider. But my laughter dies in my throat when he grasps my hands, his expression serious.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Is he going to propose to me?

He squeezes my hands and leans forward. The intensity of his hypnotizing eyes heightens, and my pulse starts to race.

Oh! Is he going to ask me to be his girlfriend?

The butterflies in my stomach fly around in a frenzy. As he opens his mouth, I scoot to the edge of my seat.

"Vanessa Hayes-Wong . . ."

Good. That's a good start. As Ollie's gaze becomes more and more intense, my heart drums in my ears like crazy. Is this it? Is this it? Is this—

"Will you be my sleeping buddy?"

I blink, shocked. Did he just . . . sleeping-buddy-zone me?

Does that zone even exist?

"W-what?"

"Will . . . you . . . be . . . my . . . sleeping buddy?"

Any kind of hope ignited in my chest vanishes into thin air. Resisting the urge to flatten his face and deep-fry it into a bucket of Taiwanese fried chicken, I yank my hand away from his. "No!"

"What? I thought you said—"

"I don't wanna be your sleeping buddy, Ol. Or your sister. I don't even want us to be just friends. Stop . . ." I grit my teeth, trying to contain the frustration and desperation raging inside me to no avail. Clenching my fists in front of me, I stomp my foot on the ground and snap, "Shoving me into these ridiculous zones!"

"What?" A mixture of surprise and disappointment washes over Ollie's features. "I'm not shoving you into any zones. If anything, you were the one who bro-zoned me."

My forehead crumples. "Are you insane? I never bro-zoned you."

"Yeah, you did. You bro-zoned me twice, Ness." He holds two fingers up, truth in his eyes. "Twice."

"What?" I shriek in horror, my voice so loud the doctor treating the patient next to us peeks from behind the curtain. Clearing my throat, I lower my voice to a whisper-shout. "I never bro-zoned you, Ol."

"Yeah, you did."

"No, I didn't."

"Yeah, you did."

My frustration rises, and so does my voice. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

With a loud grunt, I slam my balled fists against my thighs. "No. I—"

I yelp as Ollie grabs my hand, pulls me toward him, and crashes his lips onto mine.

Shock turns me into a huge block of ice. Everything is blurry. It's as if I'm squeezed into a thin line between reality and dream. Is this really happening? Or is this all in my head again?

Oh, wait. Have I died and gone to heaven?

A soft moan slips past my lips when Ollie gently sucks my lower lip into his mouth. The next thing I know, I find myself kissing him back.

He kisses me as if he misses me, and oh, how I miss the feeling of his lips on mine. The prickle of his beard, the softness of his lips, and the affectionate squeeze he gives to my arms send shivers down my spine. For a moment, it feels as if I'm floating on cloud nine . . .

Until the salty taste of blood on his lips knocks me back to earth.

As he smirks against my lips, I press my hands to his chest and push him away. "Stop doing that."

"I can't. It's too fun." He lays his head back on his pillow and cackles like an evil mastermind, wincing at the pain it causes him.

Folding my arms over my chest, I slump back against my seat and scowl. This is just some sick game to him, isn't it?

Once his laughter subsides, he rolls onto his side to face me and takes my hand, caressing it with his thumb as if he's subtly apologizing. "So you never wanted me to be your brother, huh?"

"No, of course, not. I already have two very, very, annoying ones, so I certainly don't need another."

"Why'd you bro-zone me then?"

I hiss at him. "For the millionth time, Ol, I never bro-zoned you."

"Fine, whatever," he mutters, disbelief ringing clear in his voice. "So . . . what do you want me to be then?"

I know what he's doing. He's trying to get me to decide for him.

For us.

Ollie has always had trouble making decisions, even about petty, everyday things such as what he's going to eat for the day. After the Slushie incident, things got worse for him. His guilt makes him second-guess every decision he's ever made—and it kills me to see him tormented by it.

In a way, this is his silent cry for help. And for a moment, I consider telling him that I want him to be more than just my best friend. Maybe, if I tell him the truth, he can finally accept his feelings. Maybe, we can finally be together.

Maybe, I can finally enter The Girlfriend Zone.

Nevertheless, my rational side reminds me of the fact that he is drunk right now. So drunk he's lying on a bed in an ER with multiple stitches all over his body. If I tell him how I feel now, there's a chance he'll say it back to me. But will he truly mean it? Or will it only be the booze talking?

As the thoughts swirl around in my head, Ollie waves a hand in front of me. "Ness?"

I inhale a deep breath and exhale it in a huff. "Well, I absolutely don't want you to be my brother. Or just my best friend. That's not enough for me, Ol. I . . ." My heart jackhammers against my rib cage as I brace myself to drop the bomb. "I want . . . more."

He stares blankly at me. Oh, no. Is he having a heart attack? Or a stroke?

"So . . ." He knits his eyebrows together and pulls his mouth into a straight line. "You want me to be your sleeping buddy?"

A moment of silence.

Then we both burst into cackles.

I toss his hand away and throw myself back against my seat. "What the heck is wrong with you?"

"Why don't you just decide for us, Ness?" he asks, still chortling. "It's easier that way, don't you think?"

"There are some decisions that you have to make on your own, Ol. All I can say is when in doubt, follow your heart." As he opens his mouth, I add, "And I know it doesn't want us to be sleeping buddies."

"Well, my heart is drowning in alcohol and painkillers right now, so . . ."

I roll my eyes, smiling a little. "Go to sleep, Mr. Dumpy."

"Ugh. I hate that nickname." He scrunches up his face in disgust. "Stop calling me that, will ya?"

"Oh, please. You love it." I give him a few affectionate pats on his arm and grin.

"Yeah, you're right." He flips onto his back and thumps his newly stitched forearm against his forehead in defeat. Wincing in pain, he mutters a soft curse and yanks his arm away from his face.

I pat his uninjured forearm and clasp his hand in mine, chuckling.

As we fall into a calming silence, waves of drowsiness flow over me. I'm about to slip into a slumber when he suddenly sighs, "You're so beautiful, you know that?"

I shake my head, not believing a single word he just said. "You are so drunk."

"No, no, I mean it." The firmness in his voice surprises me. "I don't even need two eyes to see that, Ness. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met. Those who say otherwise can kiss my ass and suck my Not-So-Little Oliver."

I choke back a laugh. "Your what?"

His eyes bulge out like a goldfish—yes, both of them. "F-forget I ever said that. Good night, Miss Mochi."

"Good night, Mr. Dumpy." I close my eyes and smile to myself.

Tonight might have been the craziest night in our lives. But in every darkness, there's a light.

Ollie may not be ready to admit it to himself yet, but I'm 100% positive that he has secret—romantic—feelings for me, which means I'm one step closer to getting out of The Sister Zone.

All I can do now is wait, for I've played all my cards.

And it's about time that he plays his.


Author's Note:

Ollie finally kissed Nessa again! Did you see it coming?

Also, if you can describe this chapter in emojis, what would it be?

In the next chapter, we'll take a trip down memory lane for some special #MrDumpyAndMissMochi Christmas moments.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and if you do, please show some support by voting and/or leaving comments. Thanks for reading! :)


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