More Than Just Notes

Chapter 5 – Sleepover, Kind Of

The storm came out of nowhere. By 8 p.m., thunder rolled in the distance, and by 9, the rain was hammering against the dorm windows like it was trying to break in. Olivia groaned as the lights flickered, casting her room in momentary shadows. She barely had time to grab her flashlight before the power went out completely.

Her phone buzzed. Harper.

*Power’s out in my room too. Got snacks, got flashlights. Wanna huddle?*

Olivia stared at the screen for a moment, debating. Her first instinct was to say no—she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the vulnerability of letting someone see her mid-crisis, or maybe it was the fact that Harper always made her feel things she didn’t quite understand. But the alternative was sitting alone in the dark, listening to the storm like some kind of haunted house cliché. She sighed and typed back: *Coming.*

She grabbed her hoodie and flashlight, sliding into her rain boots before heading out. The dorm hallways were eerily quiet, the emergency lights casting a dim, unsettling glow. Harper’s room was only a few doors down, and Olivia felt a strange flutter in her chest as she knocked.

“Welcome to the apocalypse,” Harper said, throwing open the door with dramatic flair. She was wearing pajama pants covered in tiny cats and holding a bag of pretzels like it was a treasure chest. “You made it just in time.”

Olivia smiled despite herself. “Glad to see you’re thriving in the chaos.”

Harper stepped aside, gesturing for her to come in. The room was lit by a single flashlight propped up in a corner, the beam bouncing off the walls. Harper’s sketchbook was open on the bed, next to a pile of snacks—a mix of chips, cookies, and some questionable-looking candy.

“Take your pick,” Harper said, flopping onto the bed and patting the space beside her. “All snacks, no judgment.”

Olivia hesitated before sitting down, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. She reached for a pack of chips, crunching one slowly as Harper opened her sketchbook.

“So,” Harper began, her pencil poised over the page. “What’s your apocalypse survival plan?”

“Don’t die,” Olivia replied, deadpan.

Harper laughed. “Solid start. How about long-term? You know, once society collapses and we’re all scavenging for food?”

Olivia rolled her eyes but smiled. “I guess I’d try to find a group of survivors. Maybe start a farm or something.”

“Bold move,” Harper said, sketching as she spoke. “Me? I’d go full Mad Max. Get a motorcycle, wear a leather jacket, be intimidating for once in my life.”

Olivia snorted. “Intimidating? You?”

“Hey, I can be scary!” Harper protested, though her grin gave her away.

“Sure,” Olivia teased. “You’re terrifying in those cat pajamas.”

Harper stuck her tongue out but didn’t argue. She was sketching quickly now, her pencil moving in loose, confident strokes. Olivia leaned over to get a closer look, her curiosity piqued.

“What are you drawing?” she asked.

“You,” Harper replied casually, not looking up.

Olivia blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah,” Harper said, glancing at her briefly. “I mean, not exactly *you*. More like… how you look right now. You’re all hunched over like you’re guarding that chip bag with your life.”

Olivia straightened, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m not guarding it!”

“Sure,” Harper said, smirking. “It’s fine. I get it. Storm snacks are serious business.”

Olivia shook her head but couldn’t help smiling. She watched as Harper’s sketch took shape—rough lines that somehow captured the moment perfectly. There was a playfulness to it, but also something softer, more intentional. Olivia felt herself relax, her usual walls crumbling just a little.

The storm raged on outside, the rain pounding against the windows like a relentless drumbeat. Harper switched topics seamlessly, asking about Olivia’s classes, her favorite childhood TV shows, the weirdest thing she’d ever eaten. Olivia answered each question carefully, sometimes teasing, sometimes serious, and found herself asking Harper questions in return.

“So,” Olivia said after a while, “why do you always call me Teal Notebook Girl? Is it just because of the notebook?”

Harper looked up, her pencil pausing mid-stroke. “Partly,” she admitted. “But mostly because it suits you.”

Olivia frowned. “How does *that* suit me?”

Harper shrugged, her expression thoughtful. “I don’t know. You’re organized, focused, a little bit intimidating—like someone who takes notes in teal just because black would be too boring.”

Olivia laughed softly. “Intimidating?”

“Yeah,” Harper said, grinning. “In a good way. Like you know what you want, even if you don’t realize it yet.”

Olivia didn’t know how to respond to that, so she reached for another chip instead. Harper went back to her sketch, the silence between them feeling strangely comfortable.

“Can I ask you something?” Harper said after a while, her tone quieter.

“Sure,” Olivia replied, her pulse quickening slightly.

Harper hesitated, her gaze fixed on the sketchbook. “Do you ever feel like… like you’re too much? For people, I mean.”

Olivia stared at her, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

Harper sighed, setting her pencil down. “I don’t know. I just—sometimes I feel like I’m too messy, too loud, too *me*. Like people want me to tone it down, be easier to deal with.”

Olivia thought for a moment before answering. “No, I don’t think you’re too much. If anything, I think you’re… kind of fearless.”

Harper looked at her, surprised. “Fearless?”

“Yeah,” Olivia said, her voice steady. “You don’t hide who you are. That’s… that’s brave.”

Harper’s expression softened, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Thanks.”

The storm began to quiet then, the thunder rolling away in the distance. Harper turned her flashlight off, letting the room fall into darkness except for the faint glow of Olivia’s phone screen.

“Do you think the power’s coming back soon?” Olivia asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Probably not,” Harper replied. “But hey, at least we’ve got snacks.”

Olivia laughed softly, her tension easing. She leaned back against the pillows, closing her eyes for a moment as the quiet settled over them. Without meaning to, she started to drift, her exhaustion catching up with her.

“Olivia?” Harper’s voice was soft, hesitant.

“Mmm?” Olivia murmured, already halfway to sleep.

“I… I like you,” Harper whispered.

But Olivia didn’t hear. She was already dreaming.