“I don’t know yet. Oak said it’s a surprise.” The lies flow out smoothly, but there’s anger welling up in my stomach. What’s this guy’s problem? I almost shout out that Oakley got me a Valentine’s Day present, so ha! But I swallow the words at the last second because it was an awesome, private moment and I don’t want Luke to ruin it.
“You gonna put out after dinner?” Luke asks with a smirk. “’Cause I notice you’re not real handsy with him, are you now?”
“Luke,” Rocco growls. “Shut up.”
“What? I’m just asking questions.” He waves his hands. “I’m curious. Curious George.”
He’s a monkey, all right. Trying to stir up trouble. I stare at my shoes.
“All I’m saying is that we’ve seen fangirls. Slept with them. We know what they’re like. And they can’t get enough, particularly of Oak.”
I don’t like being touched. The idea of all those random girls running their hands over him turns my stomach.
“Maybe that’s the whole reason Oak is with her,” Rocco says. “You,” he corrects, “because she’s not all over him.”
“Maybe.” Luke’s tone is heavy with skepticism. The other three remain completely silent.
Oakley returns, which shuts Luke up. When Oak hands me the soda, I ignore it and grip his wrist to pull him down low enough to give him a kiss on the cheek. His eyes widen in surprise, probably because it’s the first time I’ve ever reached out to him.
He sits on the armchair, his leg rubbing against mine, his arm draped across the back of the chair. Then he leans close and whispers in my ear, “There aren’t any cameras here.”
It looks like he’s giving me a kiss or murmuring something naughty to me. Everyone but Luke pretends not to watch us.
Annoyed with Luke’s visible skepticism, I turn to Oakley and kiss him straight on the mouth. At first, he’s too surprised to kiss me back. But he recovers in short order, digging his hand into my hair and angling his head just right. His tongue slides through my parted lips, flicking over mine in the hottest, wettest caress I’ve ever experienced. I clench the cold can of Coke between my fingers to keep from grabbing him in return. And I forget about the audience, the contract, the very pretend nature of this whole thing. I forget it all until someone bangs a cymbal, bringing me back to earth.
When I pull back, Oak’s lips look red and swollen. His eyes are twin flames of brilliant green. I could get lost in them.
There’s a long, drawn-out silence before Luke releases a low chuckle. “Well, okay then,” he drawls. “Maybe y’all aren’t faking.”
26
HER
@VeryVaughn Best day I had in a long time. Thx for sharing it w me @OakleyFord It was amazing
@VeryVaughn Good thing I can have V-day whenever I want @OakleyFord
@1doodlebug1 Did u see the insta messages???
@OakleyFord_stanNo1 I’m shipping this so hard.
Was in the studio until four a.m. Gotta be back here at nine. Kill me. But I wrote this song and need your opinion.
I stare at my phone, alternating between reluctance and curiosity. My finger hovers over the audio attachment that Oakley included in his text. I want so badly to click on it, but I’m kind of scared to hear his voice. In the week since Valentine’s Day, he’s sent me half a dozen songs, and every time I listened to one, his raspy voice had me melting into a puddle on the floor.
I’m having trouble with the whole pretend thing again. Even though Oak and I haven’t kissed since the day at the studio, I think about it all the time. No, I obsess about it. When we went on a public date to the aquarium a few days ago, I spent the entire time staring at his mouth, wondering what it would be like to kiss him without anyone watching us. No cameras, no smirks from his bandmates. Kissing him just for me.
And last night I tossed and turned for hours, because he sent me some pictures from the magazine shoot he did earlier that day and he looked so gorgeous in them that my eyes nearly popped out of the sockets.
I think I might be crushing on Oakley Ford...and it freaks me out.
My phone pings again.
That bad? Or so good you’re listening to it on repeat? Pro tip—another word musicians like is “mesmerizing.”
I give in and play the song, because whatever my confused feelings are, he doesn’t deserve to be left hanging. Then I find myself gaping at my phone, because everything Oak is saying in this song is exactly how I feel. Confused, disoriented, wondering why I even got up from bed this morning. He’s the voice of my head.
I prefer the night
The dark, the shadows
The corners and the shallows
Where no one knows you
Where we all pretend
The mask is all we see
All we see
Until the end.
I play the song again.
Vaughn, you’re killing me. I’m literally dying here. There’s blood on the floor. The crime scene techs aren’t gonna be able to figure this one out.
It’s good, I text back.
Good? Is that the only word in your vocabulary? I already suggested two alternatives. Shiver-inducing or mesmerizing. U could also use awesome, bodacious, crackalicious, devastating, entertaining, fantastic, great...
I’m impressed by your vocab. Do you have a thesaurus?
I’m a songwriter. Words are my weapon. Give me something here.
Oak is something else. At his most vulnerable, he’s the strongest. When I was fifteen, his music made me happy, but I don’t think he spoke to me in the way that his lyrics do in this song. He’s opening up, showing people what he really feels.
And all he’s asking from me is whether I like the song. I can’t hold that back from him.
The song was amazing.
Yeah?
Yeah.
Shivers?
I smile at the screen.
I’ll need an in-person performance first before I can confirm any shivering.
Done. Done. Done. And...oh crap. King is here. I gotta run. But we’re meeting later today and I’m singing this to u.
Now that sends shivers down my spine that have little to do with Oak’s music and everything to do with Oak. I play the song again and listen to him tell me that he’s lived a short time but it feels too long, how nobody can see through the mask he shows to the world. And how, despite everything he’s seen and done, he’s still lonely. The vision of his future is a cold, shapeless fog.
And isn’t that how I feel? In my family, lost without my parents, wondering what my next step in life is?
But unlike him, I’ve never laid myself out there like that—confessing my wrongs, pleading for forgiveness, admitting my ignorance. I’ve never taken off my mask and made myself this vulnerable in front of someone else. Not even W. Or maybe especially not W.
Paisley bursts into my room, jolting me from my thoughts. She’s dressed for work, and I’m surprised she’s still home. The twins already left for school.
“Have you seen this?” she asks grimly, holding out her phone.
“Seen what?”
Her cheeks are bright red, and I can see that she’s struggling to...to what? Keep her anger in check?
“Just read it.”
I catch the phone she tosses me. When I look at the screen, I instantly feel all the color drain from my face.
The ex’s response to Oakley Ford’s apology: “Enjoy my sloppy seconds!”