| CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
| flustered

ᴏᴀᴋʟᴇʏ ᴄᴀʀɪʟʟᴏ

I was floating in the water, watching the sky as the sun kissed my skin, occasionally closing my eyes just to think. Melodies were playing in my head, as they've been doing a lot more often lately. I wasn't afraid of losing it, because I knew they would come to me.

I could write music without actually writing it. That took a certain type of talent only reserved for the greatest, the most passionate musicians of them all. And I could with a hundred percent certainty say that I belonged to them. I would go down a legend.

When I opened my eyes again, a flock of birds flew over my head, confirming my idea. This was the sign that I was meant for greatness.

I laughed, watching the birds fly over me. And when they passed, I stood up in the water again.

I had to tell Nolan about this.

I ran up the stairs, nearly stumbling over my bundle of clothes before I ran up to the house. Once I finally reached the bedroom, all out of breath, he was finally awake, looking at me with wide eyes as I stood in front of him.

"You're awake," I said with a grin, "I have great news."

"Can you come here for a second," he asked from the bed, sitting up and patting the spot next to him.

"I'm all wet," I told him, shaking some of the water out of my hair to prove the point. "Anyway, I have amazing news. I think I've found my purpose."

It took him a few seconds of simply staring at me before he replied. "What is it?" he asked.

"I'm supposed to bring the world peace. I mean, think about it. I'm this amazing fucking musician. I've got this gift, and with that talent came my fame, you know? And together, that makes influence, right? So... so... if I make music asking for world peace... And I get the whole world to listen to it at once. I could buy ad space on tv and the radio for the same time worldwide, right? And then my music will bring us all together. So I was thinking about it when I was in the water and I know it sounds ridiculous just like this, but then I got this sign. There was this flock of birds, right as I thought about it."

He nodded, eyes darting across my face, and then he got up so we were face to face.

"So what do you think?" I asked him. The combination of running and talking had me slightly out of breath.

He held my face, and I grinned, watching the frown between his eyebrows form as he looked at me. I let my hand reach up to his face, placing my fingers on his temple, and rubbed the wrinkle gently with my thumb. I wanted nothing more than to know what was going through his head.

"I'm going to ask you a question and I want you to answer me honestly," he said. I nodded as much as his hands squishing my face would allow. "Is there any possibility you could be high right now?"

I rolled my eyes, removing my hand from his face.

"High on fucking life if that's what you're onto."

"Okay," he said, nodding as he pulled his lips into a tight line. "Is there any other reason I should be worried?"

"I'm fine," I assured him. I really was. "I know what I said last night was fucked up, and I'm really sorry about that. But I really do think your anxiety makes you overthink this." I pressed a kiss to his lips before tearing myself away from him.

It was like whenever I looked at him, the world stopped spinning. He was the center of my universe.

"You taste like seawater," he said.

"You taste like morning breath."

His serious expression had relaxed, now pulled into a lopsided smile.

"Maybe we should take a shower," he suggested, his eyes tearing away from mine, and I felt the skin on my face heat up. It was like I'd forgotten I was barely dressed, and I'd instinctively wrapped my arms around my body.

"Don't look at me like that," I said. I couldn't shake the feeling that he'd finally find something to hate, and he'd leave. I knew he'd been in many more intimate situations than I had, and I didn't want him to like he was missing out on anything.

I knew a moment like last night would come. And it was okay. It was dark and my mind was buzzing from a series of sleepless nights. But now I was alert. I was hyper-conscious to the point where I could hear the low hum of electricity, and feel the air hitting my upper lip as I breathed out, and sense that Nolan wanted more than I could currently offer.

"But I love looking at you," he said.

Until you don't.

"Right," I said, not wanting to drag this conversation for any longer. I hated to disappoint him, so I closed my eyes, pretending I wasn't me. I wasn't Oakley leading the way to the bathroom, making Nolan grin like a child on Halloween.

•••

We had made it a regular thing. In the next few weeks, every little free period he had, we would spend at the beach house. Sometimes we went just to talk, sometimes we went swimming, or we'd spend the time being alone together cuddling up in silence.

I was grabbing my stuff for our nearly bi-weekly disappearance when my mom finally started to ask questions.

"Where do you keep disappearing to?"

I'd only gotten as far as to put my plate away and grab my backpack while the rest of my family was still seated at the dinner table.

"Nolan's," I said, and Trisha smirked as she made kissing gestures with her hands right behind my parents' back. I glared at her, but that only made her beam larger.

"You should invite him over sometime. You spend almost every week there," my dad said, getting up to clean up his plate now too.

"I will," I said, running up to my parents to give them both a big hug, and so that I could give my sister the finger right behind their backs. But as I lingered there, holding onto my parents for a bit longer than intended, my mind started spinning.

When was the right time to tell them?

"Te quiero," I said to both of them as I pulled away.

•••

"What do you want for dinner?" he asked me as we entered the kitchen. "I had the housekeeper stock the fridge this time."

"You're cooking?"

"Yeah, I've only ever baked you cookies, and made you breakfast or lunch, but I've never made you dinner before."

"Maybe it's time for me to cook you dinner," I said, leaning against the countertop.

"I thought you said you'd burn the house down," he said, leaning into me. My breath got caught in my throat as his grey eyes swiftly moved towards my lips. I wanted nothing more than for him to close the last bit of space between us.

"I..."

"You what?" he asked, a teasing smile as he leaned his arms on the countertop on either side of me.

"I might..."

"Am I getting you flustered, Oakley?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

One thing I'd learned about Nolan in the past couple of weeks was that we were polar opposites when it came to anything of sexual nature. Not just because he had much more experience than I did. Where I felt my confidence slip away with every little glance he took, his confidence grew. But all of it was worth it if it kept him happy. And god, did it seem to make him happy.

"I've already had dinner," I told him, staring into his eyes. 

"Okay," he said, looking down at my lips. "Then I'll make myself something real quick. I can cook you something tomorrow."

I nodded, and he smiled before creating some distance between us. "So I assume you'll be helping me?"

He opened the fridge and the way he looked at its contents almost mimicked the way he looked at me. And yes, it did put a bit of a dent in my ego.

He smiled contently as he pulled ingredients out of the refrigerator and then he looked at me.

"You can cut the tomatoes and onions."

"Oh, you really want me to do something?" This was going to end up a disaster.

"Yes, I'm not letting you sit on your ass and stare at me."

"In that case, I hope you like fingertips in your pasta," I said.

And I meant it, because I did nearly slice my finger off once and couldn't play anything that required my left ring finger for weeks.

I grabbed an onion as Nolan brought a pot of water to a boil. I grabbed the largest knife with a sharp point I could find and cut the ends off.

I knew how to get this far, but anything past this was pure improvisation.

I put the onion on its side and cut off more of the edge I'd already cut off, and not long after I felt Nolan watching over my shoulder.

I paused, turning my head around to look at him. His face was highly amused, with a slight smile and sparkly eyes.

"You're going to get yourself hurt," he told me, and before I could defend myself, he wrapped his arms around me, so my back was pressed against his chest, and he watched over my shoulder and grabbed the knife and the onion off the cutting board. His arms traced mine slowly, causing my hairs to stand up.

"In half first," he said, my ear tingling from the close contact and his gentle voice. He put the onion on its straight edge and cut along the middle. Or we sorta did it together. "And then in strips." He let us cut a few more until he let go of my hands, letting me cut them by myself. I felt so stupid for being unable to do such a primitive cooking skill. But in my defense, whatever I did usually worked well enough for me not to starve when both my parents were out.

"You could've let me fill the pan with water. That would've been risk-free."

"Yeah, but what's the fun in that?" he asked, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck. And his hands traced circles on the skin under my t-shirt.

"You're looking for excuses to touch me."

"So? You're irresistible," he said, his body shaking as he chuckled. "We could try something new tonight."

"Something new like?"

"I don't know," he said. I managed to fully cut half the onion. Only one more half to go.

•••

The food smelled amazing, like it came fresh from a Michelin-star restaurant.

"Can I try?" I asked, grabbing an extra fork from the drawer and trying to take a bite from his food, he pulled it away before I could get anything on it.

"What if I say no?"

"Then you'd be a horrible boyfriend," I said, crossing my arms. "I diced your onions, sliced your tomatoes, chopped your garlic..."

"Yeah, and you were painfully slow for the son of a chef."

"It's not my fault my dad loves kicking me out of the kitchen."

He gave me his plate, and I smiled and looked at him as I dug my fork into a piece of penne.

"Wow," I said after tasting it. It was cooked perfectly. The sauce was creamy and cheesy and loaded with flavor. I grabbed some more on my fork. "You're really good at this."

"You know, how you cut your aromatics has a lot of impact on the flavor, so you basically did as much as I did."

"Aha, I'll tell my dad. Maybe he'll let me touch the fancy knives again."

We talked as Nolan ate, while I occasionally took a bite. And since he made enough to have some left over, we had a little more too.

"We should come here more often," I said.

"We've been coming here every spare day for the past month."

"And we should still do this more often."

"Sounds like you're proposing we move in here."

Honestly, that didn't sound too bad.

"What are you doing this Christmas?" It was just over a week from now, and my extended family was most likely coming over. But I wanted to arrange something so that I could see him that day at least.

"I don't know. Maybe my dad will invite me to some restaurant again, that's what he did last year."

"Do you think I can see you?"

"I'd love to see you." He smiled, as I wrapped my arms around him. God, did I crave a hug. It's what he did to me.

"Can we just lay on the couch and cuddle today? I feel like I have a month's worth of sleep to catch up on," I admitted. I haven't been sleeping much these days, and at first, it felt good. I didn't need it. But it was like it was all crashing down on me now.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course," he said.

So we did that for the remainder of the day. Cuddled up on the couch while a movie was playing in the background, occasionally stealing kisses.

We were halfway when Nolan got a phone call. A very persistent one, as the caller didn't stop when Nolan declined.

"It's my dad," he said, frowning at the screen.

"Take it, it's fine," I said. He sat up a little straighter and answered the call.

"Hey, Dad," he said. I could hear bits and pieces of what his dad was saying, but I turned my attention back to the movie, sinking deeper into the warm covers.

"Right now?" Nolan asked, and I could hear something with the word 'emergency', which made me look at him. He gave me a small smile, and I grabbed his hand. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good. "Alright, see you later. Bye," he said, and then hung up.

"What is it?"

"He said he needs to talk to me in person, so he's gonna be here in a few hours."

"It sounds serious," I said, squeezing his hand slightly.

"It'll be fine," he said, holding me tighter. I turned around slightly, and I kissed his cheek.