☀︎︎Featured on Wattpad's @NA and @FreeTheLGBT☀︎︎
* this is the original first draft. The rewrite is now also out on my profile! *
ᴏᴀᴋʟᴇʏ ᴄᴀʀʀɪʟʟᴏ was discovered at fourteen years old, being praised as a musical prodigy by the media ever since. His f...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
ɴᴏʟᴀɴᴍᴜʟʟᴇɴ
"It went great. Definitely got this," I told Ava over the phone.
The audition I had this week turned out to be for some teen rom-com. It was cheesy and cliché, but it would be my first more mature role. Mom said it would be a great way to get back on track or some shit.
"You know, mom says it'll be great. It'll give me that dreamy soft boy vibe and stuff."
Ava snorted on the other side of the phone.
"You? Dreamy soft boy?"
"Yeah. I mean, it's not exactly what I had in mind but I guess it'll get me back on the radar." I shrugged.
I tried to grab a bowl from the cabinet, but I almost tipped over the entire stack. I reached over with my other hand, balancing the phone between my head and my shoulder in a weak attempt to save our bowls.
"Wait, but Nolan, are you sure you want to do this? What if you can't like... go back? What if you have to be dreamy soft Nolan forever?"
"I can be a dreamy soft— ah fuck!" I shouted as I eventually dropped the stack of bowls along with my phone on the floor, a few of the bowls hitting my toe before the ground.
"Shit!" I grunted out.
I found my phone in the mess of ceramic shards and fished it out.
"Nolan? Nolaaaaaaan? Are you there?"
"Yeah, just dropped some stupid bowls," I grumbled. I put the phone on speaker as I grabbed a broom to clean things up, trying to move my toe around to stop it from throbbing like that.
"Well, I just wanted to say that if you don't want to be a dreamy soft boy, you shouldn't pretend to be. "
"Aren't I already—"
"No. You're not. I figured that out after the first month of friendship. You're not even close."
"Well, I won't be doing any interviews soon anyway," I muttered.
"Yes you are!" a second voice chimed in from behind me. "You're gonna be in the next big movie, Nolan!" my mom exclaimed. "That means press tours and interviews!"
I already paled at the sound of that.
My mom, however, seemed excited. At least, that was until she saw the heap of shards on the floor.
"What happened here?" she asked.
"I dropped the damn— I mean, I dropped the bowls," I said, looking of the mess of shattered ceramic in a heap on the tile floor.
