Oliver Loves Carson | ✔️

chapter six

Warning: if you're weirded out by kissing scenes, maybe skip the first part? It's only a paragraph of description though, so no one is making babies haha.

Oliver had never regretted anything in his life.

Correction--Oliver had never regretted anything in his life except for maybe the entirety of sixth-grade. But he didn't count that, because nobody makes that look good.

But, the point was that Oliver didn't know what it felt like to feel regret, not vividly anyway. He didn't know what it felt like for that sickening feeling to churn in your chest, to brew in your gut, to wander at the back of your brain.

He didn't know what that felt like until now, that is.

Now, it hit him like a punch.

He had leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a bruising kiss, conveying the bitterness and anger that he'd felt. As soon as he had done it, guilt sank into his chest, but he didn't back away. He had turned the girl around and backed her into the wall as her hands found the hem of his shirt. Swiftly, she had pulled his shirt off, chucking it to the side, the kiss never breaking. As her hands roamed his chest, his hands planted on her waist, Oliver only could think of one thing:

He hated this.

His first--and only other--kiss had been a girl in the sixth grade, which had only reaffirmed his suspicion that he wasn't straight, even back then. Hence, another reason to hate the sixth-grade.

Guilt and regret aside, Oliver felt uncomfort and panic rising up in him. This felt so, unbelievably wrong. This wasn't what he wanted--this wasn't who he wanted, not by a long shot. Hastily, Oliver drew back, breathing hard.

He forced his lips to curl into a smirk. "Proved it," he said.

He left, taking his shirt with him.

***

Much like the ride there, the ride home was awkward, only worse.

The bonfire left him smelling like sea salt and ash. Holden was drunk and acting like a fucking toddler; Nico was sober--to Oliver's knowledge at least, because he doubted that Nico would be a rowdy drunk--but silent; Carson (surprisingly) hadn't said a word, and Oliver shifted every five seconds from the intensity of the tension. Something had changed, and he wasn't sure what it was.

"So," Holden slurred, "Oliver hooked up with a girl. Successful night, right?"

Oliver tensed. "I didn't hook up with her," he snapped.

Holden scoffed. "You went in and didn't come out for ten minutes, and when you did, you were shirtless and your lips were swollen. You totally hooked up with her."

"Shut the fuck up. I was there, you weren't."

Holden smiled woozily. "Whatever you say, Oliver."

Silence overtook the interior of the car until Carson cleared his throat. "Celia came up to us," he announced. Fucking fuck. "She said that you're planning a road trip to Maine and invited us." The way he had said it had sounded more like a question, as if he were asking for confirmation that it was, in fact, okay for them to tag along.

"She did what now?" Oliver said, not realizing that he had spoken the words aloud. As soon as they had slipped out of his mouth, he widened his eyes and stuttered, "I-I mean that's cool--that she, uh, did that."

Carson laughed. "It's okay, Oliver. I figured that you didn't know--Celia told me not to tell you. We're not going to go, no worries," he reassured.