Chapter 15

Am I forgetting something? What happened yesterday? Why don't I remember anything? I came out of the tent. I somehow managed to walk straight towards the grill we had last night. 

Yes. I started to remember it. It's coming in pieces. I ate some meat here. Then we played Never Have I Ever with others. And I drank beer. We were enjoying the game and spilling some secrets. 

“Are you alright, Liam?” Mia asked me. 

“Drink this. You will be sober again.” Ella said, handing me some lemonade. 

I started to drink it. Suddenly I remembered it. In the tent. I tripped over and kissed Oliver. I spilled some lemonade. What have I done? Had I lost my mind? 

“Are you okay?” Clara asked me. 

“What happened?” Max asked. 

“Nothing. It's alright.” I said. “I just need a walk. I guess.” 

I was trying to remember it. The night. What have I really done? How did I let that happen? I was walking in the forest in circles. I took my phone out. Out of nowhere Oliver grabbed my phone.

“What are you doing? Give my phone back.” I said, trying to grab it. 

“Just annoying you. It's my new hobby.” Oliver said, raising his hand. 

“Don't annoy me.” I said. 

“Take it if you can.” He said. 

I tried to take the phone. But he was taller than me. I tried to jump. Then once I tried again but I got closer to him. We were too close. Our eyes met each other. Then I remembered it. 

I kissed him again. At night. While I was asleep. I had lost my mind. I was too embarrassed as I grabbed my phone and ran away. Then I packed my things as we were going back. The trip was over. 

“It was really fun.” Cam said. 

“We must do it again.” Clara said. 

I was sitting on the window seat looking outside. I spend hours looking at the scenery and trying to forget what happened yesterday. I was too drunk? Why did I kiss Oliver? 

For the next few days I started avoiding Oliver. Even though we were working at the same hospital. I was just taking his appointments and being professional. Maybe I was thinking too much. 

I kept my head down, focusing on the clipboard in my hands. The ER was busy—patients coming in, nurses moving fast, the constant beep of monitors filling the air. It was the perfect place to disappear.

Until I heard his voice.

"Liam."

I pretended not to hear it. I turned, walking toward the supply room like I had something important to do. Maybe if I stayed busy enough, he’d leave me alone.

"Liam," Oliver called again, closer this time.

I sighed, gripping the clipboard tighter. There was no escape, was there?

"Busy," I muttered, pushing past a nurse and grabbing a pair of gloves from the shelf.

"You've been avoiding me," Oliver said, standing right behind me now.

I turned slightly, just enough to see him out of the corner of my eye. His expression was unreadable, but his gaze stayed on me.

"I'm working," I said flatly.

"You've been 'working' every time I try to talk to you," he shot back.

I exhaled sharply. "Because I am working, Oliver. That's what we do here. Work."

He crossed his arms. "Right. So it has nothing to do with—"

"Don't," I cut him off, looking up at him for the first time. "Not here."

A call came over the intercom, giving me the perfect excuse to walk away. I didn’t wait for his response. I just turned and left.

Let him think whatever he wants. I had a job to do.

I kept my eyes on the computer screen, pretending to be busy. The ER was chaotic, papers stacked on my desk, phone calls coming in every few minutes. It was the perfect excuse to avoid him.

Until he showed up.

"Liam."

I didn’t look up. I typed something—anything—into the system, acting like I hadn’t heard him. Maybe if I stayed focused, he’d just leave.

"Liam," Oliver said again, this time leaning against the counter right in front of me.

I sighed but still didn’t meet his eyes. "I'm working."

"Yeah, I can see that." He crossed his arms. "Avoiding me is a full-time job now?"

I clicked through another appointment file, ignoring the way my fingers tightened on the mouse. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

He exhaled, clearly frustrated, but he didn’t leave. "I was going to tell you about the trip."

My stomach twisted. I finally looked at him, just for a second. "Don’t."

Oliver’s eyes searched mine. "You always wanted to hear about my trips."

"Not this time." I turned back to the screen. "Just... don’t remind me about it."

Silence stretched between us. I could feel him watching me, waiting for me to say something else. But I wouldn’t.

"Liam," he said quietly, but before he could say more, the phone rang.

I grabbed it instantly, pressing it to my ear. "ER front desk."

Oliver let out a breath. "Right. Of course."

By the time I finished the call, he was gone.

I should’ve felt relieved. But I didn’t.

Then I was walking on the road. My case isn't completed. I found Stiles’ second phone and evidence. But I remember someone was spying on me. I remember someone clicked my photos. 

As I was walking forward, I saw a shadow behind me. It was coming closer to me. Is it the stalker? Is he following me? I started to walk fast. Then I started running. I stopped towards a shop. Then someone touched me. I turned back and saw it was Oliver. 

“You startled me.” I said. 

“You get scared easily.” He teased me. 

“Wait, Are you stalking me?” I asked him. 

“What are you talking about?” He said, trying to defend himself. “ I was just coming to give it to you.” 

“What, my phone. How do you have it?” I asked him. 

“You dropped it on the road.” He said. 

“Thanks for it.” I said, moving away. 

“Wait a minute. Are you avoiding me?” He asked me. 

“Of course not. Why would you think that?” I said. Even though I was avoiding him. 

“Alright. Take care.” He said, moving away. 

Then I was moving forward. Then I saw someone coming towards me. It was a girl nearly my age. She stopped in front of me. 

“Are you Liam Wilson?” She asked me. 

“Yes. Who are you?” I asked her. 

“I am Lydia Green. I am Stiles' neighbour.” she answered. 

I saw Oliver looking at me from far away. He was looking carefully as he would take my eye out. He looked jealous. Maybe I am overthinking it. 

“Did you have something to talk about?” I asked her. 

“I found out that you are trying to prove that it was a murder

 and not a suicide. I thought maybe I could help you.” she said, smiling. 

“Alright. We may talk about it somewhere.” I said, walking away.