o l i v e r
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"Oliver, a colleague of mine from work is coming over this evening. We are starting a project together. He's bringing his son, you may know him. Owen Campbell?" Dad says when I walk in the front door after school.
"I know of him. We're not really friends; we're in different friend groups. How long is this project?" I ask him.
"Not sure. A few weeks... We've got to put together research, a slideshow, a board with info, as well."
I nod. "What time are they coming?" As soon as the words leave my mouth, the doorbell rings.
"Right now," Dad says.
"Richard, this is my son Oliver. Oliver, this is Richard, and you know his son, Owen." Dad says, doing the introductions. I nod, smiling.
"Oliver, you boys can order pizza if you'd like. Richard and I are going to be in my office." Dad says. He and Richard walk off, leaving me alone with Owen.
Owen looks around the entryway and then at me.
"Look, I'd rather not be here, but I'm not allowed to be home by myself. I got into some trouble recently and Dad doesn't trust me alone." Owen says, looking at me. "It's only a few weeks."
I nod. "I'm not sure what you want to do? We can go upstairs? Or outside?"
"Outside's fine." Owen says simply, following me to the back door when I start walking towards it.
I open the sliding glass door, letting him go out before me into the mid-September heat.
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P R O J E C T D A Y : O N E
Owen and I have been sitting outside in silence for about twenty minutes.
"Do you know how long this project will be?" I ask, breaking the silence.
Owen shrugs. "No clue. Dad didn't say. Only thing he told me was that we'd be over here every day for at least two weeks, possibly three."
I nod, dreading the next two or three weeks after school.
For dinner, we end up ordering pizza and eating outside since it's a nice evening.
It's mostly silence, save for the crickets and birds chirping.
"Do you think Mr. Burrow is really going to make us do a four page paper each week?" Owen asks, breaking the silence.
"I hope not, but it is our senior year." I say. "He might have just said that to scare us into doing our work, though."
Owen shrugs, pulling his phone out of his pocket and starting to type out something.
I look around the backyard as silence falls once again.
"Alright boys!" Richard says, coming into the living room. "We're finished for tonight."
Owen stands up quickly, going to the front door; I say bye to Richard and then head upstairs to my bedroom.
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P R O J E C T D A Y : T W O
Owen and Richard show up today at four o'clock. As my dad and Richard head into the office, Owen and I head outside on the patio.
"Are you always this quiet?" I ask, looking at him in the chair across from me.
He looks up, and I'm surprised to see a small smile on his face. "Sometimes," he says. "We just haven't really ever talked..."
I nod, "I get it. It's weird talking to someone new sometimes."
"If you want, we could get in the pool? I could lend you swimming trunks?" (there's those swimming trunks again... iykyk))
He nods. "Sure,"
After we've both changed into swimming trunks, he lifts his shirt over his head, putting it on a patio chair.
"I didn't know you had a tattoo," I say, looking at the thin, cursive writing that says "Rêveuse" on his left rib.
"What does it mean?" I ask him.
"It's 'dreamer' in French. I also have the word "S'envoler" on my right side. It means, 'to fly away'."
I think about the tattoo that nobody knows I have except for my best friend, Sierra, who was the one who talked me into getting it in the first place. It's on my pelvis, and says "C'est pas la mer à boire" in typewriter font, which means "it's not a big deal". I got it last month, after I turned eighteen.
Owen and I swim around the pool together for about an hour or so. When we get out, we eat left over pizza from last night.
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P R O J E C T D A Y : S I X T E E N
It's been about two and a half weeks since mine and Owen's dad have started their project. Although, today, when Owen walks in the front door, he directly avoids eye contact with me.
He follows me outside to the patio, where a light breeze is blowing, the weather starting to turn cool with the turn of the seasons.
My dad and Richard come outside.
"Oliver, Richard and I just got a call from our boss. We have to be in Chicago by tomorrow morning." Dad tells me.
Richard looks at his son. "Owen, can I leave you here? With Oliver? Can I trust you?"
Owen sighs. "Yes, Dad. I'm not going to run away."
"We'll talk about that later." Richard says.
"We're heading out now. Please make good decisions and don't do anything dumb."
After they leave, the silence isn't golden, like they say in the song; the silence is weird. He turns around, like he's going to leave. I grab his wrist.
"You can't leave." I tell him. "Your dad would kill me."
He scoffs in response.
"Why are you avoiding me? Why are you being so quiet?" I ask him.
He looks at me, avoiding eye contact. "Because I'm falling in love with you. I liked you way before this entire project began. I don't want you to hate me."
I push him back against the door, looking into his eyes.
I lean in, pressing my lips to his, cupping his face as his fingers tangle themselves in my hair.
We stumble upstairs, careful not to trip on anything.
Owen shoves me back on my bed, undoing the button on my pants and pulling them off of my hips.
"Well, look at Mr. 'I Didn't Know You Had A Tattoo' over here!" He says, looking from the tattoo and back to me.
I blush. "No one knows except for my best friend. It means, 'It's not a big deal.'"
He smiles at me before pressing his lips to my skin, working his way back up to my lips.
He takes a deep breath, looking into my eyes. "Do you want me like I want you?" He asks breathily, kissing me hard.
My breath falters, leaving me unable to speak, and I nod. "Please—" I gasp.
He spreads my legs apart, gently pushing himself in and bottoming out. I gasp, looking up at him.
"You okay?" He asks, bending over and kissing my forehead. I nod, pressing my lips to his shoulder.
"Go slow," I whisper.
"Does it hurt?" He asks me.
"A little bit, but I'm okay,"
He nods, grabbing my hand and slipping his fingers in between mine, pushing in and out slowly.
The next bit of time is full of soft kisses, gasps, and moans of the other's name.
"I'm glad they had to leave," Owen whispers later on,
as we lay together in bed, kissing behind my ear.
I smile, closing my eyes at his touch. "Me too," I say softly. "But I'm tired,"
He laughs. "Me too..."
He kisses once more before we both close our eyes, drifting off to sleep.
2/16/21
