| CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
| drunk words, sober thoughts

ᴏᴀᴋʟᴇʏ ᴄᴀʀʀɪʟʟᴏ

"This isn't my first party, Oakley. I know my limits," he said as he poured down another cup.

"Hey, it's enough," I said, taking the cup from him before he could finish it.

"Give it back!" he said, reaching out to try and take it from me, but I moved it out of his way.

"How many drinks have you had?"

"As many as I've been fed," he said, flashing me a toothy grin. "I feel quite amazing. Let's go dance again."

He couldn't even walk in a straight line anymore, he bumped into everyone close enough, mumbling a string of sorries everywhere he went.

"Alright, let's get you upstairs," I said, holding onto his arm. Half his weight fell on my shoulder, and I almost dropped to my knees. I really needed to start working out.

"Have I told you that I love your hair like that?" he asked me as we slowly climbed the stairs, step by step.

"You do?"

"Mhm. You look hot."

I almost dropped him again, but we caught ourselves before we could hit the steps.

"I don't think I would've said that sober," he mumbled. "But I stand by it. Drunk thoughts, sober words, right? Wait... no. Drunk words, sober thoughts?"

"I guess so." In my experience, drunk people just said whatever. I also didn't believe the first thing on people's minds was always what they believed. Thoughts could be intrusive, so drunk actions were often impulsive.

He stopped walking and stood a little straighter, and then he looked at me with his forest green eyes, brought out by the rosy cheeks.

"God, you're fucking beautiful."

"So are you, alright? Let's get you in bed," I said, leading him to the guest bedroom.

The only bedrooms that were always always off limits with these parties were mine and Gen's own, and she always made sure to lock the door to both. I rummaged through my pockets, looking for the keys to my room. My first step to victory was when I finally found them.

Right as I closed the door behind me, Nolan dropped down, almost missing the bed. But he was already sliding off the side, and by the time I made it to him, he had already rolled off, making a loud thud on the ground. He groaned loudly, the sound reaching over the music which was still quite loud up here.

He rolled over so his face was turned towards me now.

"Are you okay?" I asked him, kneeling down so I was sitting next to him. I didn't have the energy to help him up anymore.

"Yeah," he said. His cheeks were red from the alcohol, and his eyes were glistening like little stars. "I might've drank a bit too much," he admitted.

"Yeah, no shit," I said, lying down next to him on the carpet. I stared at the ceiling. No ceiling was as nice as the one in my bedroom, but staring up had become a comforting thing for me. What sucked was that the room felt like it was spinning. My eyes didn't know what part of plain white to focus on.

"This carpet is so soft," Nolan said, groaning as he spread out his limbs all over the space, one of his arms landing in my face.

"I think it's new," I said, feeling the fabric of the carpet between my fingers. In the meantime, Nolan didn't bother to take his hand off my face. No, actually he used it to pull me closer. He kissed me, this time a lot more sloppily than last time. His hands creeped up underneath my T-shirt, his fingers felt hot on my abdomen before I redirected them back to my face.

"Hey," he said, pulling away just slightly. My head was in the clouds and it was like the world around us had faded away. "I mean it. You're hot as fuck."

I closed my eyes, covering my eyes with my hands. I couldn't listen to this any longer.

"Does that make you shy?" he asked with a giggle as he tried to pry my fingers away from my face. "You really can't take a compliment, can you?"

"Not when it's bullshit," I said.

He sighed, and I felt him get up from beneath me. At least I thought he did, until I felt his legs around me.

"Nolan, wait—"

"Yeah?"

"I... you're really drunk. Are you okay?" I was worried about him, because it was like he knew no limits. I could tell he'd done this before, probably very often.

A silence followed. The music from downstairs was now leaking into the room, and I felt my chest rising and falling with every passing second, Nolan's weight not exactly helping me out.

"Yeah," he said. His voice sounded strange, a little lower than normal, quieter than usual, and even a little strained, reminiscent of when we first met, when I was still a stranger. "I'm okay."

The silence lasted for longer than was comfortable.

"No you're not."

Another silence followed, but Nolan made the occasional noise as though he wanted to say something. Nothing came out, though.

"You can tell me anything," I assured him.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "Fuck, I'm so sorry. I'm so stupid."

I grabbed his hands. They were shaking and they were cold. "You're not stupid at all. People overestimate themselves all the time."

"No, it's not okay," he said. His breaths were getting quicker, and I only then sensed something was off.

"I don't know what's going on," he said, forcing a smile on his face.

"I think you're having another panic attack," I said.

"Oh," he said, trying to take a deep breath, but it was shaky and inconsistent, only making him gasp for more air. "I'm a little hot."

"Take off the jacket," I told him. He nodded and started going at the button, so I helped him. "Slow down the breathing." I grabbed the jacket and threw it somewhere far away from us, and actually discarded mine too as it was indeed pretty hot here. "Close your eyes."

I moved from under him so I could sit up, so we were eye to eye, but he was still sat atop my lap, some of his weight resting on his knees.

"Let's play a game," I suggested. Maybe that would distract him enough. "Two truths and a lie. Without shots, for obvious reasons."

He didn't laugh at my joke, but I didn't expect him to. He still had his eyes closed, and his breathing was still too quick and shaky.

"Uhm... okay. So one: I've once driven a tour bus." The most difficult part of the game wasn't coming up with truths that sounded like lies. The hard part was coming up with lies that sounded like truths which sounded like lies. Especially when I was drunk enough to have the room spinning around me. "Two: I've also had a drink or two too many. Three... three... Uhm..."

"Three?"

"Yeah, three."

"No... I mean... that's the lie," he said, his voice stabilized a little since the last thing he said.

"How did you know?"

"You came up with the first two so quickly," he explained.

"Pretty sober conscious for a drunk guy."

"I'm pretty smart too, you know? My knowledge comes from experience." His breathing slowed down, deeper again, but I could tell he was still very much overly aware of what he was doing, and he tried to keep everything hidden.

"Experience I lack, which is why we work so well."

Nolan put his arms on either side of my head and slowly started leaning on his elbows so we were close enough that our noses could touch. He smelled a lot like liquor, with a hint of fancy cologne, and he was a little sweaty, but I didn't mind. Something about it made him feel more real. I took in his scent watching his eyes as they flickered around my face.

"We work awfully well," he said, running a finger along my jaw. His eyes followed his moment. "You're so pretty," he said softly.

I didn't want him to keep saying that, so I pulled on his shirt lightly until he was close enough for me to kiss.

He tasted the way he smelled. I wondered if I tasted the same to him. Or maybe by kissing we'd start to taste the same, somewhere in between the both of us.

I was getting lost in him. I lost myself in him. It was like everything around us didn't exist when we were together, and it reminded me of every song, every melody that described true happiness.

"Shit—"

And Happiness was ripped away from me by the voice intruding our secret island. I wasn't worried though, because it was the voice of my best friend.

The door closed loudly, and Nolan scrambled off me. He was worried, he didn't know Genevieve that well.

"Oh shit, you're not gonna do it on my new carpet, are you?" she carefully opened the door again, and I watched her as I sat back up. "You should lock the door."

"Get out," I said.

"We'll talk about this once we're all sober. I mean, are you staying, Nolan?"

He looked at me with wide eyes.

"Uh, yeah," he said. "I guess."

"Great," she said. "Not on the carpet."

"We weren't—"

"And lock the door."

She closed the door and I turned to Nolan quickly.

"I'm sorry, she's right. I should've locked the door." It wasn't a very good idea to be making out with a guy at a party when you did not want it to go public yet.

"It's fine," he said, his face a bright red, but he did seem okay. He wasn't shaking, he was actually smiling a little. "But we should probably lock the door now."

I laughed, and did exactly that. I locked the door and then let myself fall on the bed.

"What do we tell her?" I asked, waiting for him to join me. It didn't take long before he did, and I took his hand, holding it against my chest. I hoped he could feel how quickly my heart was beating.

"That we're sorta going out?"

I chuckled. "That's kinda what we're doing, isn't it?"

"That's exactly what we're doing."

I turned around to lie on my side, so I could watch him. His cheeks were still rosy from the alcohol and Gen coming in, but he looked peaceful. For once I didn't see the wheels in his head twisting and turning, filtering through everything, thinking of what to say and what to hold back.

"What if I tell her you're my boyfriend?"

He was silent, his face still strictly fixed on the ceiling.

"Mhm," he said. That was all, as though he didn't hear me but agreed anyway. I knew he had heard me though, because his hand had become more sweaty, and his breathing had become inconsistent.

"Nolan?"

He coughed. "Yeah?"

"What if we tell her we're boyfriends?" I asked, repeating the question differently.

Another long silence, with my heart's pace picking up with every second. It was like he was doing this on purpose. Why was he doing this?

He finally turned around so we were face to face again, and he was biting his bottom lip, his eyes scanning over my face again. It made me nervous how he kept doing this. Maybe a hair was out of place, or maybe he was looking for features he could judge me on.

"I would love to be... boyfriends."

"Yeah?" I couldn't contain my smile.

"Yeah."

"Like, really?" My eyebrows shot up. I didn't realize exactly how nervous I felt until now, when the nausea became butterflies.

He laughed and nodded, and I pressed our lips together, moving closer and closer until there was no such thing anymore.

"Wait," he said, pushing me away. I frowned.

"What?"

He laughed, covering his face with his hands, and I couldn't help but laugh as well.

"What?" I asked again through fits of laughter. His eyes sparkled like little stars, their color a cool green, even visible in the dim lighting.

"Happy birthday, Boyfriend," he said, and he connected our lips again like nothing happened. Kissing me through giggles and whispers. We didn't stop at being tired. We didn't even stop at falling asleep, waking each other up in turns and laughing about it afterwards. Ugly laughs, the ones you wouldn't dare share with anyone other than a best friend or family member, and would make you laugh harder. We kissed, tasting each other's lips until our energy and will power wore out, only stopping once we fell asleep simultaneously.

In my dream that same night, we already fell in love.

•••

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Both Oakley and I are now 20, time flies by. I started writing the first draft of this story back in 2019, that was four years ago!

I hope everyone who's reading this is having a very nice day (I mean, it's my birthday, so I sorta demand it 😁)

Bye,
xxx