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* 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...
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ɴᴏʟᴀɴ ᴍᴜʟʟᴇɴ
I woke up shirtless with a hammering headache in a strange room with a shirtless Oakley Carrillo underneath me.
"Fuck," I groaned as I noticed I woke up too quickly.
"You're awake," Oakley stated. "I was starting to think you died on me."
"Fuck you."
"We didn't go that far yet," he said, with this stupid adorable grin of his. "Here. You're gonna need it." He handed me a bottle of water. I drank all of it at once.
"Hey, I know we were like, drunk and all. But do you still wanna be my now-life boyfriend?"
"Yes," I answered simply. Though I couldn't contain my smile. "Drunk words are sober thoughts after all, right?"
"Sure, Mr. I'm-Hotter-With-My-Shirt-Off. I'll remember that." I could feel my face heat up at that, so I grabbed one of the millions of cushions to cover my face.
"Don't make me regret my decision, Oakley."
He chuckled, and that didn't exactly help my case. Still red like I'd just been sunburnt or some shit.
"So now tell me, how do you drink so much without dying?"
Not an uncommon question. But to be fair, it's become less. It was definitely progress, even though I did get a little more drunk than I'd initially thought I'd be.
"Experience."
"Should I be worried?"
"Nah, I'm doing alright."
Kind of. It wasn't a lie.
"Okay," he said, ruffling my hair. "I need to go home soon. You want me to drop you off?"
"Yeah, sure."
When I arrived yesterday, Gen immediately told me I failed in the costume part. To be fair, I wasn't even planning on going. Oakley just managed to convince me later into the night, so I didn't care about wearing a costume.
Gen apparently did care, as she dragged me into one of the rooms to do my makeup. And I honestly did look kinda hot with the black all around my eyes.
I asked her what it was supposed to be, but she just shrugged and told me, "At least it looks like a costume now."
Now all of that shit was probably smeared on my face and on my shirt—which was still lying on the floor, by the way.
"Where's the bathroom? Need to get this off my face."
Oakley pointed to the door on the other side of the room.
