ᴏᴀᴋʟᴇʏ ᴄᴀʀʀɪʟʟᴏ was discovered at fourteen years old, being praised as a musical prodigy by the media ever since. His fame had only increased until now. At nineteen old, he's the most remarkable musician of his age, and he's only getting started. At...
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ɴᴏʟᴀɴ ᴍᴜʟʟᴇɴ
I didn't know why I was torturing myself. Maybe it was just masochism, maybe I hated myself so much I wanted to get heartbroken again. Maybe I wanted to lose all my friends because of the shitty being I was becoming by distancing myself from them. Or maybe I was too careless. The one thing I knew since the moment in the car, was that I liked him more than just a friend, and it had become too substantial to just call a crush.
I was sweating and he could probably tell. He could probably feel the clamminess of my hands as he adjusted my fingers. He could probably hear my heartbeat trying to drill a doorway out of my ribs.
"So that's an A."
"You know what?" I said, looking at the side of his face. We were sat close together, so every little speck of color in his eyes showed itself. "Guitar playing isn't that difficult. Maybe I should take over your job."
He laughed, the dimple in his cheek facing me as he looked down at our hands, his still placed over mine to get the shape right. His hands were larger than mine, and his finger tops were rougher. They felt almost scratchy on my skin.
"The basics are never hard. I wouldn't wanna frustrate you."
I was totally sending him fuck-me eyes. Not intentionally, of course. But his proximity, combined with the constant contact between my fingers and his, his eyes focused on my fingers, or the smell of green and lemons lingering around, definitely did something to me. Deeply in the pit of my stomach could I feel it. I knew I was staring at him in a way that would've betrayed me to anyone else, but he didn't seem to catch on. Not at all. And if he did, he was insanely good at hiding it.
He looked up and smiled. Everything about him was so nonchalant and laidback. He was the polar opposite of me.
"Got it?"
I forgot to pay attention and I had no clue what he'd been talking about.
"I— I don't think so," I said, trying to hide the fact that I was too distracted by him. Too distracted. And just like that, memories of the last week came flooding back.
Kylan following me to the trailer. Him wanting me to be friends. Him telling me he was done protecting me. I didn't even know what he was 'protecting' me from, but every time I thought about it, I got shivers.
"Got it now?" Oakley asked, pulling me back into the real world.
"I'm uhm... I'm sorry, I zoned out."
"That's okay," he said, his eyes focused on me. He took the guitar from my lap and gently placed it down next to him. "Do you wanna talk about it now?"
I sat up a little straighter when he asked the question.
"It's... I— uhm, can't..." I couldn't tell him about Kylan. Hell, I couldn't even tell him I'm gay, because that would make it all too easy for him to put two and two together to realize I liked him. And I didn't want that to happen, as he was the only friend in the state I could talk to.
