ᴏᴀᴋʟᴇʏ ᴄᴀʀʀɪʟʟᴏ was discovered at fourteen years old, being praised as a musical prodigy by the media ever since. His fame had only increased until now. At nineteen old, he's the most remarkable musician of his age, and he's only getting started. At...
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ᴏᴀᴋʟᴇʏ ᴄᴀʀʀɪʟʟᴏ
I wasn't sure what made this place so appealing. The house was big, but not abundantly so. It reminded me of my own home, which I'd always considered the perfect size. Though it was clear this place wasn't typically occupied by a family of four. There were several things that gave it away.
First of all, the house was neat. Neater than Nolan's home, which already felt hotel-like apart from his bedroom. This looked like it had not been lived in. Not in any of the bedrooms or their respective bathroom. Not in the kitchen, where both the fridge and all the cupboards were empty apart from crackers, pasta, rice, and some teas.
Then there was the interior design. Things were gold and brown. Not a pop of color anywhere, except for the spines of the countless books—which all looked like classics. This place wasn't just a hotel, it seemed it doubled as a museum. The worst part was that there was even a grand piano in one of the otherwise empty rooms, which I'd at first been thrilled about. The problem arose when I tried to play it and it was the most out-of-tune instrument I had ever laid my fingers on.
The thing really saving this place and making it feel authentic was the beach, which you could hear from the porch in the back, and even smell.
The last time I'd been to a beach was years ago, and I quickly learned that privacy wasn't a thing anymore. Even if it weren't paparazzi bothering me, it would be strangers. Nothing is more embarrassing and stressful than a bunch of kids your age taking pictures of your shirtless body to post online. Especially when those pictures came with quite unpleasant comments. Nolan promised me we'd go to check it out tomorrow once the sun would start to rise.
After he showed me around, we ordered pizza. I learned that he did not think pineapple belonged on pizza, which was honestly not a surprise. I disagreed. He argued that as the more knowledgeable person about food here, his opinion weighed twice as much as mine.
"What do you want to watch?" he asked, scrolling through every movie there was to offer. It was already quite late, and I was already starting to get tired, but for once in quite a while, I wasn't ready for the day to end yet.
"Just put something on," I said.
"Why so indecisive?" he asked.
"That's who I am," I told him. I took my can of soda from the table in front of me and finished the last of it.
"Indecision is not a good trait, you know?" he said, to which I only nodded. Indecision had gotten me in a lot of deep shit. And the worst part is that mine doesn't come from the inability to know what's best. Deep down, I know what I want or need, but it's like a wall separating me from voicing that.
At least, there was a wall when it came to my work. I didn't have to extend that wall all the way to my private life.
"Let's do something high fantasy," I said. I wanted to properly escape real life.
