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Olive can’t help a grin from lifting the corners of her mouth, even as she fights against it, even as she furrows her brows and tenses her jaw. It just keeps growing and growing as she watches Chelsea pace the rooftop terrace of Casa Amor.
“I just - I cannot believe him!” she shrieks, hands waving around her wildly. “His nan! His nan, Olive! Can you believe that? I can’t! I can’t believe it! How could you believe that? That's not believable It’s so, so - ugh!” she groans, stopping with her back to Olive and stamping her foot as her hands collapse to her sides, fists balled up tight.
She silently fumes for a minute, steam nearly rising from her ears and red cheeks as she glares at nothing in particular. She cannot believe Gary one bit, how could he do that to her? Was she not enough for him? Her face droops, her shoulders slumping, muscles going lax. She must not be, if just anyone is better than her.
No, no, no. She’s a catch, everyone always tells her. She’s a catch and Gary’s the one in the wrong, he’s the one being such a, such… “Jerk!” she screeches, hands clenching again and arms folding as she tenses, her entire body stiffening with the effort of the shout.
She turns on her heel, eyes blazing as they land on Olive sitting on a bench behind her, watching Chelsea with bright eyes and a small smile quirking the corners of her lips. Chelsea’s face scrunches at the expression, her brows knitting together and lips twisting in a harsh frown, “Why are you smiling?” The words come out harsh, harsher than anything she’s ever uttered to Olive, as well as somewhat hurt, hurt that she doesn’t care.
Olive’s supposed to care, she always cares. She cares about Chelsea more than anyone else in the Villa, she cares about saving Chelsea from drama, she cares about Chelsea being in a good couple, she cares about calming Chelsea down when she gets excited or upset. So why doesn’t she care now?!
Olive’s smile only brightens, a small laugh joining it as she watches Chelsea scowl and glower and pout and squeeze her hands into tiny, tiny fists that couldn’t hurt a fly. “What’s so funny?” Chelsea asks again, now folding her arms across her chest and jutting her hip to the side.
Coffee hair brushes exposed shoulders as Olive shakes her head, her chest shaking slightly with another laugh, “Nothing, nothing,” she grins at Chelsea, attempting to stifle it and failing once more.
“Something’s funny or you wouldn’t be laughing!” Chelsea accuses, her lips twisting further, distorted on her face as she stands expectantly, carefully watching Olive and her response.
“It’s just…” Olive bows her head, hiding her expression and the smile it holds, “You’re way too cute when you’re angry,” she admits, fighting another giggle as Chelsea’s face swims in her mind. It really is too cute, the way she purses her lips and frowns at the same time, the way just the one dimple deepens, the way a crease forms between her eyebrows, and the way she turns bright red, huffing and muttering the entire time she complains.
Chelsea’s hands fly in the air in exasperation, “I’m not trying to be cute!” she groans, dragging out the last word in a whine. Her head falls back, eyes staring up at the clouds and a defeated pout on her lips, curving her mouth.
She’s trying to be mad and scary and intimidating, so Gary knows he messed with the wrong girl. She’s supposed to make him regret his words and being such a jerk, not laugh at her. She’s supposed to put him in his place, not be dismissed with a grin.
With her head still directed to the sky, she walks over to the bench, turning and collapsing beside Olive with a groan, letting her eyelids fall shut as she leans against the other girl. “I’m trying to be scary,” she whispers.
Olive sighs, wrapping an arm around Chelsea and letting the blonde sink into her. “You’re plenty scary,” she reassures, her palm running up and down Chelsea’s bicep.
“I didn’t scare you,” Chelsea frowns, her eyes still squeezed tight as she focuses on the colours swirling behind her lids.
Olive hums in thought, “Maybe I’m just immune, since I know you. Or maybe ‘cause you weren’t mad at me, so it’s not scary to me right now.”
Chelsea’s head flies up, eyes snapping open wide as she stares at Olive, “You think I could still be scary?” She’s beaming, nearly bouncing in her seat, hands clasped in her lap to keep from fidgeting too much with them.
“Definitely,” Olive grins back, her hand rising to pinch Chelsea’s cheek. “You could be as scary as Lottie if you wanted.”
“Really?” Chelsea asks with wide eyes, her muscles freezing as she nearly gapes at cinnamon eyes across from. Lottie’s the scariest person Chelsea knows, could she really be that scary?
One side of Olive’s lips rise in a soft smirk, “Really,” she confirms, relishing the light that explodes from Chelsea’s eyes as she jumps from the bench, overflowing with energy.
“I need to practice!” she announces, pausing her bubbling eagerness to force her face into a frown, hands tightening at her sides, knuckles turning white as she tenses, rehearsing her scary face.
Olive can’t suppress a grin from lifting the corners of her mouth, fighting against it with all her might, furrowing her brows and tensing her jaw to aid her efforts. But every time the blonde turns away, it grows and grows as she watches Chelsea pace the rooftop terrace of Casa Amor.