15. Loren

15

LOREN

The difference between right and wrong isn't taught in school. Yet, we are taught throughout our lives that we always want to be in the right. Whether that's in our actions, intent, or verbally. Sometimes that lesson backfires and people use being right as a means to gloat. A competition instead of something wholesome.

Experts in antisocial disorders say that sociopaths will often defend their wrongdoing at the expense of others. I'm sure that it's common, but I don't find it necessary. What I find truly interesting is that psychopathy is said to be a genetic disease, while sociopathy is mostly an environmental affliction. The irony is that I have a very healthy and strong relationship with my family.

Except my mother. Can one person create a sociopath? I've always wanted to ask someone.

For me, the line between right and wrong isn't always clear cut. It's gray. To me, something that is wrong to another person is clearly defined as right. There are only certain circumstances when I know the world thinks what I'm doing is wrong and I actually understand their reasoning.

For instance, breaking into Oakley's house again? Yes, I know that's not something I should be doing. Yet, I easily unlock the back sliding door and let myself in after they've all left this morning. I only have an hour, but this time, my mission is specific.

Once Levis gave me some tips on Oakley and after having him in my yard while our households played together, I'm ready to come undone with frustration. Until I actually had my hands on him, my skin on his, this has all been rather… two dimensional. My goal has been to make him mine, though I never understood what that meant.

Touching him added a very different element I hadn't been expecting. Feeling his heartbeat, hearing his breaths, the tremble of his arms, his ass pressing back against me as I guided him in holding a bow… it was all very surprising. Up to that point, I was confident that this had no physical element to it at all.

I can admit when I'm wrong.

After assuring myself that there's no one inside, I move to the front of the house where the stairs are. This is the only part I take my time on, just to make absolutely certain there aren't any creaks or squeaks on the path to the stairs. I check the floors all around each outside exit and then each and every stair all the way to the second landing.

I'm thankful that the owners kept this house well maintained. Once again, I take careful note of exactly how far open Oakley's door is before creeping inside. I leave the door open as it had been so I can hear the rest of the house. I have an hour at best. In reality, I should get out in forty minutes.

The room hasn't changed since I was last here. Beginning at the bed, I run my fingers over the blankets. They're soft. There's a lot of them. I wonder if he sleeps under them all or on top. The pillows are mostly covered in solid color cases except one that's in a Care Bear case. There's a radish pillow and a carrot. Some weird rounded stuffed animal with oddly small wings and horns. And a square pillow reads ‘never let anyone dull your sparkle.'

Beside the bed is a nightstand, with one drawer on top and a door on the bottom. I slide open the drawer and peek inside. There's a few hair ties, three bottles of lube. I pick one up that reads ‘slick as silk.' Another in the drawer says ‘glide.' There's also a new box of condoms.

There's a pad of paper and a pencil, two remotes—though I'm not sure what they're for since I don't see a television anywhere. Cough drops, tissues, hand sanitizer, ibuprofen, and an e-reader.

Picking up the e-reader, I shift it in the light to see where his fingerprints have been most frequent. When I don't see any, I wager a guess that it's not passcode protected. Turning it on, I smile because it's not. I spend a few minutes scrolling through the books he has, taking notes so I can download a couple to read. It's helpful that there's a little banner over the ones he's finished.

Putting it back where I found it, I close the drawer and crouch down to open the door next. I'm greeted by a large silicone dick standing up. There's a towel covering the bottom of the shelf and other toys are lined up like soldiers. I grin as I examine the contents of the cabinet. He doesn't have a huge collection, but there are a handful of different options. I'm guessing this one in the front might be a favorite, since it's easily accessible.

Closing the door, I stand again and move to his dresser. In the top drawer is what you'd expect to find. Socks and underwear. Since nothing is folded, I pull out various pieces. There's a little bit of everything. Boxer briefs, briefs, jocks, some short shorts that look like his ass cheeks might hang out.

As I'm pulling them out, I wonder what he's wearing right now. Which of these sexy little things does Oakley have on? When I pull out a thong, I raise my eyebrow. I didn't know they made these for men. It's clearly for a man though, since there's extra fabric in the front for dick bulge.

Curious. Is it inappropriate to ask what kind of underwear he's wearing right now? Probably.

Putting everything back as close as possible to how it was when I opened the drawer, I go through the next three and find the usual suspects—tee-shirts, shorts, pants of various materials, a few long-sleeved shirts. In the closet, I find hoodies. There's a single suit and a helmet. I frown at the helmet, unsure what he uses it for. In all of my stalking, I haven't seen a motorcycle.

The desk has things a desk would, notebooks, paper, writing utensils. There's a tablet sitting on top. This one I find passcode protected. It only takes me two tries to guess the code and let myself in. There are a few games on here and the student portal app—which I open, pleased to find that he has the username and password remembered.

There are also a few streaming apps that I poke through. I'm not sure which of these programs he watches since they're logged in under his friends' names. My guess would be that they all share the logins.

I spend some time looking through his pictures. Most of them are old, likely downloaded from social media as they've been posted by friends and family. I'm not surprised to find a bunch of him as a kid with his friends.

I go through his browsing history and then his email before shutting it all down again and replacing it where I found it.

Stepping into his bathroom and flicking on the light, I find his dirty laundry has recently been emptied. There's only one pair of shorts in the bottom of the basket. A damp towel hangs over the shower curtain rod. Within the shower, I take his body wash and inhale. A shiver of appreciation moves through me as I replace it.

Opening the drawers in the vanity, I find one filled with nothing but hair ties. I grin as I pick one up to examine it. It's brown and tan, three braided strands attached with beads.

The door downstairs closing makes me snap my head up and look into Oakley's bedroom. Shutting the drawer in the vanity, I quickly turn off the light in the bathroom and plunge myself into darkness as I listen.

It's easy to recognize their voices at this point. I've spent enough time with Levis to know his easily. They've been hanging out in our yard recently too, which I appreciate because it gets me closer to Oakley, even if I still haven't managed to have a real conversation yet.

That's why I'm here right now. Well, that's what I'm telling myself. I need to get more comfortable. I need to familiarize myself with him. Learn everything I can learn before actually talking to him.

This shouldn't be so hard!

Jessica's voice is obviously the easiest to identify, and I'm confident that the second voice is Briar's. Their voices get closer.

"Yep, I'm heading out in ten. Rutger is meeting me at the field," Jessica says.

Briar snorts. "I'm still unimpressed with that name."

"You're named after a plant," she counters. "A thorny patch!"

He laughs.

Their doors close, one and then the other. I remain where I am for just a second longer before moving back into Oakley's room. Quiet.

Assured that they're going to be in their rooms for a few minutes since they shut their doors, I head into the hall and down the stairs. I'm not sure who this builder is, but they need an award for building such a solid structure that there isn't any noise.

I make it outside easily enough, shutting the sliding door behind me. The key to moving around in the daylight in places you're not supposed to be is acting like you are supposed to be there. No creeping around or slinking in the bushes. I walk from the back door to the side of the house, keeping out of sight of both of their windows while also keeping my gait casual.

Instead of going home, I head down the street toward the café. My fingers continue to twist around the hair tie I still have in my hand, making me smile. There's a single strand of hair on it, but I don't pull it off. Nope. I slide the elastic onto my wrist and wear it like a bracelet, including his DNA in the hair strand.

I'm aware I've crossed a line. I just don't care. There aren't any excuses that I could offer. I want to know Oakley and I'm not quite confident enough to speak to him yet. I'll get there. Soon.

But first, I need to find a way to observe him without others around. I don't want questions. Or for people to get bothered or uncomfortable with my staring. I'm not entirely sure how to make this happen, though.

Except I know exactly how to make it happen. I'm watching through my bedroom window as, one by one, their lights go off. The last one is out just before one in the morning, but I give it another hour, watching for movement.

Then I sneak back over. The air is cool as I cross the street. Keeping close to the house, I make my way around out back. They don't have motion lights; their lights stay on all the time. It would probably be safer for them if they were motion-activated. Hell, it would be safer for them if they used their damn alarm.

Letting myself in for the second time today, I listen for movement. Levis sleeps on the first floor close to the front door and the stairs. He's honestly the biggest threat in the house. Still, I take my chances.

There are dim lights all over the place. Little night lights in outlets, dully illuminating the walking path. I'm careful not to make a sound as I creep my way through the first floor and then up the stairs.

I should have checked whether Oakley's door squeaked. I feel like I would have noticed that the two times I've moved his door. All the bedroom doors on the second floor are closed. What if Oakley locks his door at night? Do people do that? I haven't in the past. I'm not sure my brothers have either. Not even Avory and Ellory and sometimes, they really should!

With my hand on the knob, I slowly turn it, waiting for it to give. There's noise from behind the door. A fan? I didn't see a fan. The slightest click I feel more than hear lets me know the door is unlatched. Glancing behind me to assure no one else is disturbed, I push the door open just enough for me to slip inside.

Silence. Except for the fan sound, which I quickly realize is coming from his phone. He likes white noise to sleep. That's good information to know.

Shutting the door, I move close to his bed, keeping myself from the moonlight reaching through his drawn curtains.

Oakley's cast in darkness. His hair curls at the ends, messy around his head. He looks so soft and peaceful. Tucked within the enormous amount of blankets, he's under a couple with a foot hanging out and the blankets drawn up to his chin.

It's impossible to determine whether he wears clothes to bed or if he's naked. I'm slightly surprised when my cock decides we like the idea of him being naked under the blankets.

I stand over him for several minutes, just watching. Admiring. Committing everything about him to memory. He's perfect. I've never seen someone so pure. So sweet. Beautiful.

Sitting in his chair, I continue to stare at him as the night wears on, thinking about my conversation with Noah about him. My conversation with Levis about him. Putting everything I've observed and collected into neat little rows as a picture of Oakley forms in my mind.

It's time to talk to him.

Okay, not right now. Even I know that it wouldn't end well if I wake him up now to talk to him. But soon. I think I might be ready.

I need to make sure he knows he's mine, but I'm not going to get to that point unless I actually speak to him. Infuriating, I know. There should be simpler ways than this.