| CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
| Dimple Cheek & Patisserie Boy

ᴏᴀᴋʟᴇʏ ᴄᴀʀʀɪʟʟᴏ

In the first week of the new year, Nolan's parents allowed him a little bit more freedom. We got to go out as long as we were back by dinner, so with this new rule, I took him out every day. In the meantime, I'd turn my phone off so I wouldn't have to deal with Mason's whining.

In that week, Nolan told me how he had a hard time facing his friends knowing his image in their heads would forever be tainted. I couldn't do much except for promising him that it would be fine. I didn't look at him any differently, so why would they?

A few days later, I found myself on his bed, with Nolan sleeping in my arms again. The moment paralleled Christmas, with a Disney movie playing in the background, emitting blue light.

There was a soft knock on the door, and I mentally cursed at the fact that Nolan had been too stubborn to leave the door open again.

"He's asleep?" Nolan's dad asked.

"Yeah," I said. "But I should probably go home." It was nearing midnight already.

"Do you want to stay over?" he asked.

My eyes widened at the question, and I nodded.

"Yeah, if that's okay."

"Bedroom door open at all times," he warned, and I chuckled, but nodded again.

His dad walked away, trusting me alone with him, so I leaned over and grabbed the remote control from Nolan's side of the bed. I tried to not be too disruptive, but I'd managed to wake him up anyway.

"Are you leaving?" he asked me, blue light reflecting from his grey eyes. And I shook my head. "You're staying?" he then asked.

"Mhm," I hummed. "On the condition that we leave the door open."

He rose from my shoulder and looked at me. He didn't say anything. He went straight for a kiss on the lips, short but sweet.

"Did they say how much?" He grinned, and I shook my head, to which his grin grew.

"Can we talk for a bit?" I asked. I had to know about this love thing that had been on my mind for weeks at this point.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"How do you know you're in love with me?"

His silence was confusing me. Surely if he loved me, he could tell me why he felt that way, right?

Was he unsure too?

"It's hard to explain," he told me. "It's just a feeling."

"What does it feel like?" I asked, wanting nothing more than clarity.

"It's not really that kind of feeling." He must've sensed my insecurities talking shit in my head before he decided on another approach.

"Let's play a game," he suggested. He ran a hand through his hair before grabbing his pillow from behind him, holding it in his arms like a stuffed animal. "Let's write ourselves a story. We'll take turns."

"Will that explain it to me?" I asked him. He nodded, his eyes a warm shade of green in the dimmed yellow lighting.

"You start," he said. "It can be anything."

Fiction had never been my strong suit, so this story was going to be ridiculous. But I was desperate to know how this was going to play out, so I swallowed my pride and did as he told me.

"A boy walked down the street to his house as he did every day for the past twenty years of his life. Things were always the same. He passed the same houses, the same people, the same pets. And although he loved it, it always felt like he didn't belong. He never connected to the place like everyone else did, and it confused him."

"And so he left," Nolan continued. "After twenty years in the same house, the same neighborhood, in the same city, the boy left. It was scary at first, leaving everything he knew for a world he knew nothing about, but he left."

"The new world was exciting," I said. "It gave him this rush he'd never felt before, but he was still alone. Well, he was alone, until he met a boy."

"The boy was a little boring."

"You are far from boring," I said, offended that he'd even say such a thing.

"I know," he said, holding up his arm where his bracelet was still attached to his wrist. "I just wanted to hear you say it."

I rolled my eyes, but smiled regardless, continuing the story. I wanted to get to the part where the boy found out what love was.

"So he met this boy. He was handsome, with his dark blonde hand and skin so smooth like... the icing on a wedding cake. Speaking of cakes, he always smelled of vanilla and chocolate, like a patisserie. Everything about him was sweet. From the way his voice caressed the other boy's ears to the way his touch melted into his skin like cotton candy melts on the tongue. Everything about this boy mesmerized him."

Nolan was silent, looking at me blankly, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open.

"I forget you're a writer sometimes."

"Being a songwriter is very different from being a writer."

"Right. You're closer to a poet."

My skin grew a little hotter. This was essentially like sharing a first draft with someone. It wasn't polished like the music I released. This was raw, just whatever came to mind was what came out.

I imagined how I would change the story if I had the time to. What would I have left out to please the masses?

"Patisserie boy was just as infatuated with the other boy," Nolan continued our story. "He had the most gorgeous, spiraling curls, deep brown eyes—wait, you did so much better with this. He had eyes the color of..."

He looked up like it would help him think, and then his face lit up as he came up with what must be the perfect metaphor. "Eyes the color of burnt caramel, and the most alluring smile that would cause his left cheek to contract into a dimple."

I laughed. "I described your touch as cotton candy melting on the tongue and you compare my eyes to burnt caramel?"

"I'm a reader, not a writer," he reminded me, his face beaming. But he continued. "Something about the dimply-cheeked boy caught Patisserie Boy's attention."

"Dimply-cheeked? Might as well call me crooked-faced."

"Don't interrupt me," he said. He yet had to get to the point, so I shut my mouth.

"Patisserie Boy and Dimple Cheek become close very quickly, and not long thereafter, they start dating. Things go well. They're doing everything a couple should do. They make out, they go on dates, and the sex is otherworldly." He went on without even a pause."So safe to say things go well, until Patisserie Boy's secret comes out."

"The secret wasn't that big of a deal. It just proved you're human."

He fully ignored me, but not without forcing his gaze down to my hands and taking them in his own. "When Patisserie Boy was twelve, someone found a hair in one of his pastries. He is scared when the secret gets revealed. His chef watches over his shoulders like a hawk, to make sure a slip-up like that would never happen again. But there was one light that helped him through it all: Dimple Cheek visited the bakery every single day. He never left him."

Did he fall in love with me because I was always there for him? Is that what love is?

"All of this reminds him of the times Dimple Cheek had been there for him. Every panic attack, every insecurity, Dimple Cheek was there to stick a bandaid on it. But that wasn't enough."

"It's not?"

Nolan shook his head. "All Patisserie Boy wanted, was for Dimple Cheek to be treated the way he was cared for. He didn't want Dimple Cheek to feel hurt. Not ever, like when they'd first started dating and the town took advantage of the newcomers' naivety. Patisserie Boy would give up everything just for Dimple to be happy. And that's how he knew."

So that's how you know.

"You have every opportunity to leave me, Oakley. Because us being together puts everything on the line for you."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, my brows furrowed.

"Well, my reputation will forever be tainted. Yours is still clean, until they find out we're together."

"There's more than enough time your you to prove you've changed," I told him. "And even if things don't go the way we want them to, I would never abandon you."

He smiled, his attention stuck on the bracelet around his wrist. I put my hand on his cheek, and the corners of his mouth were pulled up into a smile as his eyes met mine. I leaned in for a quick kiss on his cheek, and even in the warm, dim light, the red peeking through his skin was vibrant.

"I love you so much, Oakley."

My heart sped up, and my body tingled upon hearing the words again.

I felt everything he described. I would do anything to see him happy, but the words... I couldn't quite say them back, because something was missing.

"Are you tired yet?" I asked him. He looked tired. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and every time he smiled his eyes took a moment to catch up.

"A little," he admitted. "You?"

"Me too," I said. Pushing some of his hair out of his face and tucking it behind his ear.

"Goodnight, Dimple Cheek." He smiled and closed his eyes before he lied back down next to me, taking the warm feeling with him. I snuggled closer to him to the point where I couldn't get closer anymore, and then I once again wrapped an arm around his waist.

"Goodnight, Patisserie Boy."

He chuckled, and I smiled.

I was getting there.

•••

I woke up to the sunlight peeking through the windows, and I kept my eyes closed as I rolled around.

"Oakley," Nolan whispered, shaking my shoulder gently. "It's past noon. Do you wanna get lunch together?"

I turned around so I was lying on my back and slowly opened my eyes, the sun burning them as a sunbeam directly hit my face. I squinted, watching my boyfriend with wet hair and a freshly shaved face, and I nodded.

"I'm glad you're sleeping well," he said with a smile.

He was about to get up and move, but I held his hand.

"Wait," I said. My throat was dry and my voice hoarse. "Can you lie with me for a bit?" I asked, blocking the sun with my free hand as I waited for his response.

He showed me an angled smile and positioned himself next to me. His chest was still damp from his shower and he smelled freshly of body wash and deodorant.

I ran my fingers over his damp skin mindlessly, burying my face in the nape of his neck and pressing a kiss into the skin.

He turned himself around so we were face to face. I put my leg over his in an attempt to get even closer, but then he pulled me by the waist until we were chest to chest.

He leaned in, his eyes already fluttering closed before I put my hand on his chest, stopping him and creating a little distance.

"I haven't brushed my teeth yet," I reminded him.

His eyes scanned over my face, and he nodded, pulling away and lying on his back, and my leg fell from his waist right onto his crotch. My eyes widened upon noticing that our little cuddle session had excited him a little more than I intended.

"I'm sorry," I said. His face was slightly red, but he didn't seem to care too much.

"Never apologize for being hot," he said, followed by an exaggerated wink.

I buried my face in his chest. It was moving up and down as he chuckled.

I'd missed walking up next to him. We didn't do anything else, and it was enough. Sometimes I'd dream of a normal life where this was all we did. We wouldn't have to spend months apart ever, we could just be.

He looked at me as our chests were both facing the ceiling. From the corner of my eye, I watched him smile. I lied there for a few moments, but then he got out of the bed. I groaned as he pulled at my arm.

"Come on, you should take a shower."