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
"Finally home?" Trisha asked me as I was watching TV in my room. I came home earlier today when she was still at school, and neither of our parents seemed to be home yet. "Where's Mom? I thought she'd be working from home today?"
"I don't know, maybe an appointment with a client?"
"She didn't tell me about any appointment," she said, coming into my room unannounced and dropping herself on my bed, nearly crushing me too.
"Ow," I said, my hand resting on the place where my wound had just started healing.
"I didn't even touch you," she said, watching the TV. "What are you watching?"
"I don't know, something fantastical."
"Cool," she said. She didn't seem to have any plans of leaving at all.
"Did you want something?"
"Yeah, I wanna sit here and watch TV with my brother I barely see."
I squinted my eyes at her. "No but seriously, what do you want?"
"Nothing," she said, crossing her arms. She didn't look away from the TV. "How was Gen's?"
"I didn't stay at Gen's anymore," I told her, figuring that maybe she was telling the truth.
She looked at me now, her eyebrows furrowed as she thought.
"Then where did you go?"
I didn't typically stay at other people's houses if not counting my best friend, I never even stayed over at any of my ex-girlfriends'.
"Nolan's," I told her. "Turns out his dad has this second house at the beach, and it's very difficult to get there without trespassing, so it's basically a private beach."
"Nolan, huh? Seems like you've become closer to him than Gen."
"He's cool," I said, trying to contain my smile. He was more than cool, he had this charm around him, something that emitted calmness. You could look into his eyes and have all your worries fade away.
"So is that his?" she asked, pointing at the shirt I was wearing.
"Yeah," I admitted, because denying it was asking to be made fun of. "He let me borrow some of his stuff."
"Oh, he did?"
"Why are you sounding like that?" It was like she was a kindergarten teacher trying to sound interested in a child's weekend at grandma's.
"No clue what you're talking about," she said with a grin. "He sounds nice."
