17. Loren

17

LOREN

I've spent quite a bit of time with Oakley over the last few days. I enjoy his voice and the way he blushes. When we hang out in the larger group, he's quiet. Almost meek. But when we're alone, he's vibrant and passionate about so many things.

Levis is right. He loves sweet things and romantic gestures. However, I'm in way over my head when it comes to thinking of them. I only know that he does because of some of the conversations we've had.

I'm wandering around my room contemplating what to do that might be romantic when I remember my conversation with Noah about love languages. Pulling out my phone, I dial his number and then look at the time. I probably should do those things in reverse.

"Hey!" Noah greets. "What's up, Loren?"

"Love languages," I say. "Also, hello. Are you well?"

He laughs. "Yeah, I'm good. What about love languages?"

"How do I tell what someone's is? Is romance a love language?"

He hums. "Kind of. I think it's the acts of service in romance. Letting them know you're thinking of them with little gestures. You know?"

"I don't. I need help. Oakley likes romance. I don't know how to do that."

"I take it you've finally talked to him?"

I try not to smile. Honestly, I do. But I feel like I smile a lot lately. "Yes. Often. We go on long walks and talk."

"That's romantic," he says.

"It is?"

Noah laughs. "Yes. So, some common romantic gestures are small, thoughtful gifts. Emphasis on thoughtful. Like, what's something Oakley likes?"

"Rocks," I answer. "He likes space and flowers and ancient history. Books, movies. Pretty landscapes. Compliments but not like… thrown in your face."

"You've listed a whole lot of things that you can do right there, Loren. Give him a flower."

"What kind of flower?"

I can hear Noah's smile when he answers. "Does he have a favorite? Different flowers have meaning. Some colors of flowers have their own meanings too."

This sounds awfully complicated.

"What are other romantic things?"

"You're overthinking, Loren. I have an idea. I think you've probably figured out by now the kinds of things that will make him smile, right?"

"Yes." I love his smile.

"Use that as a starting point. What can you do that will make him smile? Don't go overboard. True romance isn't a trip to Paris. It's the intent behind it. As cliché as it sounds, it's the thought that counts."

"Okay, fine. Romance is putting a smile on Oakley's face."

"Exactly," Noah says.

"Good. I can try that. How's hockey?"

"L.A. has had better years," he admits, laughing.

"But the team is good to you?"

"Yeah, Loren. They're good to me. I've made some new friends and they're really great."

"And Elixon? He's still treating you well?"

"Very much. I promise, everything in my life is perfect right now, Loren. The newest development with Oakley aside, you're doing well?"

"Yes," I answer. I try to think of anything at all to tell him that might be interesting and not along the lines of killing people, but I seem to have consumed most of my life with Oakley right now. "I have nothing going on, I guess. Just Oakley."

"That's cool, Loren. Want to tell me about him?"

"Um…" What do I say? I love the way he sleeps. Yes, I still sneak in at night because I love to watch him sleep. To know that it's peaceful and he's unbothered by bad dreams. Sometimes he smiles in his sleep, and I imagine that he's dreaming about me.

No. That's probably not how I should begin a conversation.

"Oakley is very enthusiastic about his studies," I say and smile as I think about walking him to school this morning and he recapped what he learned yesterday about the ancient Kush people. "He has so many passions that I think he has a difficult time settling on one. He thinks he's just not interested enough in anything, but I think his true challenge is finding something that he's more passionate about than everything else."

"What else?"

"He's very loyal." Noah and I have talked about loyalty in the past, so I know he knows what it means to me. "He's had the same group of friends since he was nine. They live together now and go to school together. They've recently started hanging around with my family and it's very different from my relationship with my brothers, but you can see their bonds. How loyal they are to each other."

"Perfect. What else?"

"He has really long hair. Well, not as long as Jessica's, but it's grown just past his shoulders so the ends curl. He tries to keep it tied back, but the sides fall out right away. He always looks so windswept, but I think it's just his energy. It's bound up tight, kept quiet, until he's comfortable to talk. His passion is like his hair—wild and untamed and beautiful."

"That's really sweet."

"Is it?"

"Yeah. I think you have romance in you, but maybe you don't know how to identify it."

I think about this as I look out my window. Oakley's home. I walked him home an hour ago.

"I might want to kiss him," I admit.

"Might?"

Sighing, I admit, "I'm not sure I'm good at romantic kissing."

Noah chuckles. "You're cute, Loren. You know that?"

"I'm glad you think so. You going to help me or tease me?"

"I'm not sure how you want me to help you. That kind of experimentation is usually had in college. If you'd asked me to help you learn how to romantic kiss then, I might have."

"Why can't you teach me now?"

"I'm not kissing you now, Loren," he says, laughing.

"Ah. This is a practical application."

He cackles further. "Yes. I'm not sure I can even tell you what to do."

"I've kissed him but, like… just barely touching his lips. More on his cheek. I've done that a few times."

"He's receptive, I'm assuming."

"Yes?" I think about it for a minute. "Yes," I say more firmly. "He smiles and blushes when I do; so, yeah. I'm at least 95% sure he's receptive."

"You could take out the guesswork and just ask," Noah says.

"That doesn't sound romantic at all," I retort.

"Okay, how about this: lips to lips. Not a lot of pressure. Read his body language. If he's stiff and doesn't loosen up, he's probably uncomfortable and you should stop. If he kind of leans into you, wraps his arms around you, that kind of thing—he's into it and you can keep kissing."

"No tongue."

Noah finds this highly amusing. I can hear his laughter when he answers. "Read the situation, Loren."

I huff in frustration.

"Does this mean you've overcome your touch aversion?" Noah asks.

My head tilts to the side and I find myself looking out the window again. "No. I haven't really touched him. The desire to is there, though."

"This might be awkward, but I think it's important for this conversation. Do you desire to touch him romantically or sexually?"

I frown. "Maybe both."

"You're filled with maybes."

"This is all very new for me. I've never wanted to be around someone this long, never mind talking to them. Or touch them. Sex has always been transactional and I'm definitely not interested in anything transactional with Oakley. However, I do want to have sex with him, which presents a lot of new challenges I'm not sure I'm ready for."

Noah chuckles. "Not that I have much experience here, but it's not that different in principle. There's a hole. You stick it in. But I'm going to preface that with a warning that you need to prep, regardless of whose hole is taking what."

I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this, and talking about it makes me a little jittery.

"Yeah, thanks. Back to kissing. We can come back to sex talk another time." Noah laughs. "So no tongue. That equates to romance."

"I mean, you can kiss with your tongue romantically. Loren, sweetheart, honey, have you thought about letting him guide the situation?"

"He recently had a stalker," I say. "It's made him a little… cautious. I'm not good at reading people on a normal day, even when I try, so this is quite a bit out of my comfort zone. I've never wanted to read someone so fucking bad."

"Back up. He had a stalker?"

"Yes, Daniel."

"Ah, right. Proceed."

"That's it, though. Levis said it made him very uneasy and distrusting and he was already shy and introverted, so there's a good chance that he's just going to wait on me. So I need to know what to do."

"I'm going to guess that these random names you're throwing out here are his friends?"

"Yes, sorry. His friends I mentioned. Did I mention them?"

He laughs again. "You did."

"Think I can buy out your contract this year so you can be here to coach me?" I ask. Only slightly teasing.

Noah cackles. "Yeah, I'm not doing that, but I'm flattered you think I have that much to teach you. I promise you, you're overthinking this. It sounds to me like he likes you, Loren. I know this is going to be difficult, but you need to read the situation in the moment and act based on how you're both feeling. Okay?"

"Killing people is easier than this," I mutter under my breath and stare out the window again. The sun has set, so the street is lit with lamps, creating little umbrellas of light.

"I'm going to pretend that you said something entirely different from what I think I just heard."

"I didn't say anything, so that's a good idea," I say.

He huffs. "Sleep on it. I swear to you, it's not as hard as it feels right now."

Sighing heavily, I agree and let him go. It's not nearly late enough to break into their house and watch Oakley sleep, so I sit in the window and watch the lights. It takes a very long time for them to finally turn down.

It's earlier than normal and I'll probably have to walk around for a while before I slip into their house if I don't want to catch anyone awake, but I head downstairs and stop in my tracks. Dad's sitting in the chair in the hall, his hands steepled as he looks at me.

Expectantly.

I'm not sure what to say. It's not like I can pretend I'm not sneaking out right now. Actually, I'm not sneaking. I planned to just walk out the front door.

Yet, I stay rooted where I am on the second to last step.

"Where are you going, Loren?" Dad asks.

To be clear, I don't lie to my family often. Certainly not about important things. I'm not sure I've ever lied to Dad. Even though it's on the tip of my tongue to claim I'm going for a walk, the lie is too heavy, so I drop onto the step with a flourish and scowl.

"To watch Oakley sleep."

"Is that really how you want your relationship with him to end?"

Everything inside me bristles. "No. It's not ending."

"You think he's going to wake up with a wide smile to see you sitting in the shadows of his room in the dead of night? When he screams and his friends rush in, you think they're going to let it go?" Dad asks.

It's not like I haven't thought about this. Honestly, if Oakley wasn't such a heavy sleeper, I wouldn't have gotten away with this at all.

"No," I admit.

He nods. We're silently watching each other for a long time. Eventually, Dad stands. "There's an appropriate way to proceed and a very inappropriate path to follow, son. Choose the right one, Loren."

His hand lands on my shoulder as he climbs the stairs beside me.

I want to point out that right and wrong mean different things to me, except his warning is now ringing loudly in my ears. I've made progress with Oakley. While this is all very new to me and I'm not entirely sure exactly what I'm feeling, I don't want it to end.

Getting to my feet, I cross the hall to the front door and open it. Our front door is practically directly across the street from theirs. If their door was open, I could see straight through to the back sliding doors I break in through.

The air is cool as its fingers brush my cheeks. I need to see him right now. I need to know he's okay. That he's not having nightmares. I want to see that he's sleeping peacefully.

Instead, I shut the door and turn around, climbing back up the stairs to my room. It's late. Almost midnight, but I have to do something or I'm going to give in and watch him sleep.

I dial his number and close my eyes.

"Loren?" he answers, his voice sleepy. "Are you okay?"

"Are you having nightmares?" I ask.

There's a pause. "No. Why? Are you?"

Kind of. My nightmare right now is that he's not sleeping peacefully and I'm here. Not that I could do anything if I were there, and he didn't know I was there.

"No. Can I take you to dinner tomorrow?"

I hear his smile when he answers. "Yes. You can."

Sighing, I nod. "Will you do me a favor, Oakley?"

"What's that?"

"Call me if you have a nightmare."

Another pause. "Okay."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, Loren. I promise."

"I'm sorry I woke you. I hope you sleep well."

"You too, Loren. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

He hangs up and I fall back on my bed, closing my eyes. This is going to be a long fucking night.