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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ɴᴏʟᴀɴ ᴍᴜʟʟᴇɴ
The day went about as planned. In the afternoon, Oakley and I baked cookies, stealing kisses whenever my parents were away for even just a second.
"I'm getting a sense of deja vu," Oakley told me as he rolled the dough into balls.
"Oh yeah? To what?" I asked, looking strictly down at the kitchen counter.
He his eyes burnt into the side of my head as I tried to conceal my smile.
"I don't know how to do this," he said, flattening a perfectly fine sphere between his hands. "Look, it's not round like yours."
"You're so cheesy," I told him, now standing right behind him, and I put my hands over his. He laughed as I helped him make perfect spheres with my chin resting on his shoulder, and all I could do was grin. His laughter made everything better. For just a moment, I forgot about my situation. I didn't think about my past, I didn't think about my future. All there was, was now. My fingers slipped between his, his body pressed against mine, his hair tickling the side of my face. I kissed his neck and wrapped our arms around him, and I closed my eyes with a sigh. Everything with him just felt right.
"Who's cheesy now?" he asked softly through a grin, but he leaned into me, gently swaying us side to side.
"I feel so safe around you," I mumbled with my face still in his neck.
"I feel like that's a rule of being a boyfriend. You have to feel safe around me."
"I've never felt that before." My friends made me feel comfortable, but no one ever had made me feel safe before. Not my parents, none of my exes. This was new to me.
He was quiet, and for a minute I thought I messed up. Maybe what I said was too intimate, too intense. But he turned around in my arms, and just looked at me. His eyes moved all over my face before the settled on my lips. So I leaned in, and we kissed. His lips enveloped mine and my hands found my way into his hair, playing with the curls as his were placed respectfully on my waist.
"Oakley," I whispered between kisses.
"Yes?"
"I lo—"
"Aren't those supposed to be in the oven, boys?" my mom said, crossing her arms. Oakley and I were still pretty much glued together, but it was nothing inappropriate.
