Here it is: the long awaited final chapter. I know it looks long, but it's actually SHORTER than the pervious one! It's split into three sections: Oliver's POV, Lilly's POV, and then the reunion (which is the biggest section) is back in Oliver's POV. That's right, the reunion. Actually face-to-face conversation and, well, you'll just have to read...
I reach the music break in the song and not a moment too soon. That last recollection really takes its toll. All bitter thoughts run ramped with each push of white and black keys. Eight measures of simple chords and repeat, Oliver. Do I still have the ability to count to four and stay in time? My brain is jumbled. Hands don't want to touch plastic; they want to feel silky-smooth skin. They want to run through honey-blonde hair. What I would give for that sensation right now...
Out of the corner of my eye, I try to gauge the audience's reaction. Maybe I am putting them to sleep. From what I can see, they seem still and relatively unenthusiastic. Wishful thinking ensues: can I bore them into a coma as I pour my heart out over the amped up sound system? I don't want the whole world to hear or understand, of course. Only the person who means the world to me needs to know. This is only intended for her.
And now I am starting to think I made the wrong choice.
Singing this song is a mistake. Going on stage tonight is a mistake. Letting the guys harass me and boss me around is a mistake. Leaving my love behind to be subjected to the torture and pain is the biggest mistake. It's just one bad decision after another with me.
Missing the sweetest and most beautiful girl, however, is not. Loving Lilly Truscott with all that I am isn't a decision, it's a natural instinct.
An emotional wave crashes straight at my chest. If I want to get through the rest of my performance, I am going to have to ignore it. This constant fear of drowning in my sorrow and uncertainty is too much. A restless heart under such pressure can only take so much before an explosion is emanate. I wonder where it will take me as I open my dry mouth. The end of song is vastly approaching, yet the pain is of endless supply.
"My beating heart belongs to you."
I can't hear a thing over its' frustrated cry. Listen to it, Lilly. Respond with a sign somehow. Please take note of the naked truth I am screaming out as clear as possible. The vital organ inside my chest has no desire to be here alone. It wants its owner. I need my owner. The pending text spells it out in black and white. All that is left is her answer; one that I hope still mirrors mine.
"I walked for miles til I found you."
Forget the bumps in the road that force Lilly and I to keep distance. Let this life I am living disappear as fast as it arrived. I'm through with it! Look what it does; look at the trouble it causes. I have to reprove my loyalty and my love, and as I see it, there is only one way. The craziest of all thoughts enter my brain. Am I actually going to go through with this? I won't chicken out, will I? In a split second, I make up my mind. I can't take the stress of not knowing how she feels or where we stand any longer.
"I'm here to honor you."
But when it's time for the last line of the pre-chorus, words from Lilly's mouth echo throughout my brain: "Make me proud." If I go through with my plan, I'm giving up onher. Backing out now means backing out on a promise. Oliver Oscar Oken never break his word, especially to his girlfriend. Lilly is my driving force behind life. She pushes me to believe in myself and in what I do when no one else does. It is an honor to be here, yet a torture to stay.
My head and heart argue amongst themselves. They can't agree on where to go from here. I'm in limbo with one last line of the song on the tip of my tongue. Something needs to click before I run out of time, but nothing does. Frustration erodes away any silver lining present. I choke out the final lyric, weakened and confused.
"If I lose everything in the fire, did I ever make it through..."
Instantly, the solution pops in my mind. Fate brought Lilly and I together, and it can be the one to decide my next move. That line has a point. If I end up losing it all through this experience, does Lilly at least know I love her? It is all up to that blue cell phone in my pocket. Everything relies on this one critical message.
My head points downwards as I play the keyboard outro. It is the only instrument that has notes, so naturally there is a bit of extra pressure to finish these last seven measures flawlessly. Somehow, I manage to stay on the right path, until my very last chord. (Stupid fingers hit a minor instead of a major.) I am not aware that I am holding out this sharp sound either. Not to seem rude, but the crowd of mostly teenage girls will scream at anything. They don't always have the notion that a note is off or if something is sang out of key. How come they get to live in the moment and be care-free when I'm put on display with a spotlight shining on my agony for all to see?
The roar dies down in decibels, but I have to act fast. My head is tilted downward so that no one can make eye contact with me, not even my band. Slyly, I shove my hand into my pocket. Fingers rub the screen as I carefully slide my phone out just enough so that I can make a quick check without getting caught. This is it, my heart races. Please tell me all of this paranoia is a lie, that I'm worried sick for no reason at all. I want to know that I'm over-reacting. Most of all, show me that she knows I'm safe, that I love her, and that she's all I want and more.
I push a button on the side and the screen lights up with fate's answer. There isn't any time to debate it; I know what I have to do now. Thanks for that extra nudge.
By this time, there's a hush over the crowd and everyone in the room for that matter. Jimmy glares angrily, Steven has his typical dazed look, Josh waits for orders like the gullible guy he is, and Kyle seems patient and calm. It's already established that these guys don't understand my theories or reasons. I'm pretty sure most of them could care less about what I am about to do, but will make a scene anyway because that is the kind of people they are. Let them talk. Let them freak. I'm not done pulling my stunt. I have a lot of pent up emotion to let loose, and no one can stop me.
Without saying a word, I take steps back to center stage. The room falls silent except for the sounds of my sneakers on the stage floor, stopping in front of my original spot. For the most part, I try to get my head down or turned away from the audience's view. They know something is wrong, they can feel it. It is never a good idea to let the public in on private matters. I don't want to be too painfully specific, but I rather they know the truth.
My hand adjusts the dynamic microphone to the right angle on the black stand. In doing so, I reveal my weary, pale face to the numerous wide eyes in front of me. I feel ten times worse than I look, but still present an almost "death warmed over"-like image. I'm an Ollie zombie; groggy, disoriented, and empty. I'm harmless to others, but harmful to myself.
"Did you guys like that?" A few cheers respond. I try to fake a smile back, but it's just not as easy as it sounds. "It was a surprise; a spur of the moment thing. None of these guys up here knew about it. Heck, I didn't even know I was going to do it, but I did it. It had to be done."
I am looking out into a sea of confusion. No one wants to listen to this ramble, but I have a lot to say. Right now, I am just beating around the bush and wasting time. Everyone seems impatient.
"That's how life is sometimes, guys. It throws you curve balls and surprises. Sometimes you go with the flow, other times you need to buck the system."
Though I speak to the crowd in a serious manner, I hate the way I sound. This isn't me. I'm not a poetic person; I'm Oliver the dorky donut! That's why Rico wrote that love poem. I rap about cheese jerky and dance in a penguin suit to express myself! These people don't know the real me, and it's too late to let them in now.
"Well tonight, I'm doing just that." I hold the microphone still with one hand. "I'm bucking the system..."
I can tell by the looks in the audience that I am losing them. A few whisper to each other while they wait. One girl's action in particular puts me over the edge. She reaches into her purse, pulls out her fancy, high-tech phone, and starts to type out a text message. My heart continues to fall. This is exactly what I don't need to see. A question floats around in my head, but doesn't stay there for long.
"Are…are you texting your boyfriend?" I timidly ask the quiet girl in the front row. Eyes glance up from the screen. She smiles with a mixture of feeling nervous, embarrassment, and also a little giddy because Smokin Oken's talking directly to her. She nods and slips the phone back into the bag. "Must be nice…" I mutter in my head.
"You miss him?" My curiosity deepens, although I do have a point. The girl tries to say "uh huh", but it's so quiet that I can barely hear.
"Let me ask you something." I pop the microphone out of its holder on the stand and look down at her. "If you were separated from this guy for, oh, say six months, you haven't had the chance to really talk and you're totally love sick...would you drop everything and go back home if you could?"
Honestly, I do feel bad for calling this girl out and putting her on the spot. The crowd seems to give her way too much pressure. I don't force an answer; I wait patiently, because I want the truth. After a few seconds of debating, she shakes her head "yes."
"You would..." I reiterate for all those who couldn't see. "I bet most people here would I agree with that." A small group verbalizes their opinion in favor of the idea. Perfect. These people seem to be generally understanding. I don't feel as bad about what I am about to say.
"That's what I'm going through right now, guys. I've gone with the flow for as long as I possible could, but the river ran dry. My...my flower's wilting away."
Jimmy and Steven groan and roll their eyes. To them, it's just more symbolist garbage that gets on their nerves. I'm not trying to be deep, fellas. I'm being serious.
"It's been a great ride. I've had a lot of fun touring and playing for crowds of fans like you guys." I begin. "But for every 'up' I felt on this experience, there was an even greater 'down.' Lately, there haven't been any ups at all. I've done my best to suffer through it for the sake of the tour, but I can only take so much."
Finally, I have every single person in this venue's full attention. All eyes are on me; wide and waiting. I sigh and bite my lip. It's time to drop the bomb and let my heart speak for itself.
"I'm sorry, guys, but I can't standing living another minute like this. Something's telling me I need to be home, and that's exactly where I'm going. I gotta get back to my life. I gotta get back to Lilly..."
Gasps and shouts fill the air. Jimmy throws his sticks out in front of him in anger. I flinch with my eyes clenched tight as they breeze by, barely missing me. Steven starts grumbling some nasty comment as well. Can't they set aside their bitterness for once!? I'm afraid to open my eyes and look at anyone else's reaction. Maybe I should just leave the stage in a sprint now to spare myself from more disgruntled fans and band members.
No, I'm not wimping out on my decision. I have to stand up for what I believe is right. Lilly always tells me to do that.
Eyes pop open and reveal they're red. I am going to try my best not to cry, but firmly stick to explaining instead. "You guys don't know what it's like. It's the hardest thing I've ever done. If you all want to think I'm a wuss, then so be it!"
Shock wears off, because my last comment makes the crowd angry. They start booing and I fear could possible go all "teen mob" on me by assaulting me with whatever's in those over-stuffed purses of theirs and capturing it all on cell phone camera film to further the downfall of my career by posting the footage on the internet.
"You're not going to change my mind!" I exclaim.
Someone shouts "But we love you, Oliver!" and the whole floor starts chanting my name. Their cries do not faze me. I am not going to soak up all this and get talked into something I don't want. Neither a fan nor my band can say a single thing to save this. When I say I'm done with something, I'm done.
"Don't love me! I don't want you to love me!" Once again, everyone is confused. The looks read "isn't that what this is all about it?" and "are you crazy!?"
"Look," I sigh, putting my mic back on the stand. "Don't love me, because I can't love you back. I appreciate you and every thing that you do for me...but I can't love you as much as you love me."
I turn around and look at my band. "Now these guys here. They're different, especially this one." I walk over and put my hand on Kyle's shoulder. "This one here can give you guys his life through music when I can't." Kyle looks skeptically at me. He's not use to the spotlight and the attention because someone has always over shadowed him, be it Jimmy, or a much as I hate to admit it, myself.
"Look to Kyle for a heart to follow. I'm dedicated to someone else."
"Oliver, are you sure you wanna do this?" Kyle questions quietly.
"I have to, man. I know you don't understand why, but I have to."
"But what about Jimmy?" I look behind me and see my drummer scowling behind his set with his arms folded at his chest.
"Maybe he'll respect his little brother more." I pat my guitarist on his back and go back to speaking to the crowd. "Ky's got a great voice. I'm leaving him in charge to finish the show. You'll get your money's worth, trust me."
Kyle smiles and shakes my hand. He's a bit of an introvert, but I knew he is grateful. Josh pokes out from behind some sound equipment on the side of the stage and does the same. Even Steven takes a hesitant walk over and gives me a proper goodbye. All that is left is Jimmy, but I don't expect anything more than a smart remark. He wants me gone, I bet. On the inside, he's really cheering, even though he thinks my reason is baby-ish. I just skip him on my way back to the mic stand to say a few last words.
"Thank you so much for understanding, but I can't stay a second longer. There's something I've been dying to do for the past six month..." I pause and form a dorky smile. "My girl's waiting at home."
I turn around and get ready to bolt off stage when I see Jimmy stand up from his stool. The expression on his face hasn't changed. He is seriously going to start trouble right here, right now?
"Yo, Oken..." He calls my name loud enough to make an echo.
"Yeah?" There is not an ounce of fear in me. Lilly's on my mind and in my heart. She's pumping through my veins. Nothing can get to me now.
"You got guts, kid."
Am I hearing this correctly? Is this a compliment coming from the antagonist; from Mr. Rock star himself? He actually agrees with my decision? All these questions surface, but I don't have the time or desire to seek their answers. I simply just form half a smile and reply. "Thanks."
Claps and chants of my name fill the room to the brim once more. I take one last look at the sea of people below me. Finally: some support. Although it is nice to be appreciated, I don't care how the crowd reacts. The phone in my jeans pocket wants to guide me. It's subconsciously pulling me off stage itself and I'm not resisting.
My hand raises and forms a half wave to the fans, then immediately zoom off stage like a bottle rocket; the anxious feeling builds rapidly with each step. I whizz pass confused crew members and venue employees. Through the halls and down a flight of stairs I fly. It is a one man race to the break room. Lying on the floor beside an arm chair is my old, worn out duffle bag from Seaview High. Inside it are just a few of my essential belongings. This bag is mostly jam-packed with presents for Lilly. I pick something little up for her from every city the bands plays in on this tour. (What can I say? Ollie-pop likes to spoil.) Although I deem my action as "random" and "spur of the moment", this bag has been prepared every since the first gig. Even my subconscious knows I can't be separated from Lilly for such a long period of time.
I clench the fraying mustard-yellow handle of the faded bag, snag my plain navy hoodie from the back of the chair, and do a u-turn as I speed right back up the stairs. The people I pass know I am on a mission. They comment that my dark brown eyes have never been so still. Disregarding all of that, I find my way to the exit and fling the door open with such careless force.
Outside, the air feels cool on my sweaty skin. The van is just down the street, but I don't have keys. The rest of my things are locked inside, but they are of no concern. I know everything will get back to me sooner or later. Besides, I can't drive off with the van and leave the guys stranded anyway. My brain tries to process my next step. Now that I am I standing in the middle of a city sidewalk at eight-thirty at night, I need to work on actually accomplishing my goal: how the heck am I going to get back to Malibu?
"Think, Oliver. Think!" Restless thoughts zip around as I stand mumbling to myself. Time is ticking. Resources are slim. I have to work with what I have and improvise the rest. There is no way I'm wasting another sleepless night worrying and missing my girl.
As I rack my brain, I see the glow of yellow lights pop up behind me. Staring at my shadow on the cement, I watch as the beams shrink with every second. Then, I hear a loud engine rumbling and the whoosh of breaks. My head flies around to see a gray city bus stopped just at the end of the block. Like mad, I pound the pavement and sprint towards the vehicle. The door is just about to swing shut when I arrive. I squeeze my way through and up the steps.
"Can this bus take me to Malibu!?" I blurt out, winded from my chase. There is a half bald man in his mid forties wearing a white-collared shirt with the words "Sacramento Public Transit" embroidered in green on the right hand corner and black pants sitting the driver's seat. He glares at me as if I am insane.
"Malibu?" He chuckles. "That's almost seven hours away from here, kid!"
"You don't understand. I need to get to Malibu California tonight! It's urgent!"
"I'm sorry, son. I don't know of any bus route that goes there from here."
"How far can you get me?" I ask, trying to weigh out my options. I am prepared to walk all the way. The song does mention walking long distances.
"Oh, a few suburbs outta the city." The man replies, adjusting the ball cap on his head that matches his attire.
"I'll take it!" I exclaim, quickly digging my wallet out of my back pocket and shoving a few bills into the fare machine beside me.
"Go head and take a seat." The bus driver gestures with his hand. "It's getting kinda late so, I need get moving."
"Thank you so much, sir!" I let out a huge sigh of relief with my gratitude. The man laughs to himself as I throw myself into the seat right behind him, sliding all the way over against the window. There isn't another soul on this bus besides the two of us, but I want to be close to the front. I have a feeling that there will be a lot of transfers in my future.
"Don't worry, Lilly-pop." I say to myself as the driver closes the heavy door and begins to move. "I'm coming for you."
Lilly's POV:
I doze off at eight-twenty (more or less my eyes welled up with tears, so I have to close them.) Neither a dream nor a nightmare invades this temporary "sleep." In fact, I don't see anything. It is as if someone hit the pause button for my thoughts. Nothing good can enter, nothing bad can leave. Everything is trapped or hiding from me...including Oliver. Which one is it, my love; trapped or hiding? Is this a joke or does this lack of contact have a meaning behind it?
Eight twenty-five (a whole five minutes more than I expect) and my eyes open themselves once more to the same scene and feeling. My whole arm is numb from leaning on it to hover my head above the phone. I stare concentrated, yet nervous at the device. Dare I check again?
"A text will there this time!" I repeat over and over to myself, trying to build the confidence. Normally, this isn't an issue for me. Even the strong-willed can have doubts. Right now, doubts are just about all that I have. Underneath it all, I want to believe. He wouldn't lie or make a promise that he could not keep. Oliver is sincere and true to me, and deep down, I need to believe that.
Guts are granted; my brain gives my curious heart the go-ahead.
Reaching for my phone, I don't blink and I don't breathe. That anxious knot in my stomach continues to grow as does a tingling, almost paralyzing feeling in my chest. Nerves, I hate them. Fingers twitch as they wrap around the device. With one motion, I flick it open and zero in on the center of the screen. Today is the only day that I do not want to see my boyfriend's face pixilated as the wall paper.
But that is exactly what greets me: a stupid (yet very adorkable) picture. No text messages are waiting for a reply. No missed calls are waiting for me to return them. That boy, my guy, "Smokin' Oken", he's trying to kill me...
I take a slow, shaky exhale and lower the phone shut with a snap. Eventually, I shove it in my pocket. The moon streams a beam of light from outside my window and hits my mirror. It catches the corner of my eye and I turn my head towards the glass. A frightening illusion appears; one that is pale and cold, lost and alone. She looks weary and battered just sitting there. Unkempt and mangled hair replaces the soft blonde locks. Her eyes do not have a sparkle of hope, but glisten with tears instead. This graven image reflecting can't be me, but it is...
My name is Lillian Truscott, and this is me missing my addiction; my daily dose of dorky donut. This is my life minus its purpose. What I see is a hollowed-out heart, mind, and soul without Oliver. Maybe that is all I am; just a reflection...
That reflection grows tired of looking at herself, so I pull the hood of Oliver's red hoodie up over my head and down far enough that my view is half obstructed. My legs get that crawling, burning sensation in them from falling asleep. I need to get up and walk off this numbness. Muscles and bones have a hard time agreeing. They are sore and stiff. A scowl forms on my tired face when I eventually stand up and make it to my feet. I don't want this life or this feeling anymore.
There is no use pacing in circles. Staring at the same four walls in my current state of mind just isn't healthy either. I become adventurous and decide to leave my bedroom. Tip toeing down the hall, I see that my mother's door is closed, but not all the way. The woman is working feverously on her lap top; the clicking of the keys sound in a sporadic rhythm. My mom suspects I am finishing up homework or that I am in bed even at such an early hour. Being the uptight parent that she is, that is the rule she enforces when school starts. I am supposed to be in my room for the night, therefore I am extremely cautious as I pass her.
I stumble down the old staircase. That is the hardest part about sneaking out of my room. These creaky steps can give away a person's location at any given time. That why Oliver and I use the rope latter in desperate measures. (It works like charm.) Today, I do not need such a tool. I'm staying in doors and not going very far from my bed at all.
Now on the first floor, I make my way into the living room; a most familiar area to Oliver and I. Though it is a little dark, there is no need to turn on any lights. This is not the first time I have navigated my way around this furniture in darkness. Oliver says I make it look easy. He trips over table legs and bumps into bookcases, but always manages to find his to the middle of my brown, worn-out couch. That is exactly where I am headed this evening.
We have had this sofa for ages, my mom and I. Yet when I take a seat on it today, I just now realize how large it is. Sitting here alone makes me feel so small, like I'm five years old again and Oliver and I are watching Pancake Buffalo on TV while eating Fudgy Buddies. That memory feeds my current idea. Feeling along the coffee table in front of me, I come across the universal remote and switch on the flat screen. Maybe I can find something to drown my sorrows or at least make me forget why I have sorrows to drown in the first place. C'mon, television. Rot my brain like everyone claims.
Out of all the hundreds of channels that are available why is it that there is never anything to watch? Each time a click the button on my remote, the selections become worse. It starts with over-rated reality shows like "Teen Wilderness Challenge" and "Teen Court." Watching kids rough it and eat bugs is so eighth grade, and I have put my appearance on the show "where justice is served" behind me. Next, I find sports channels, which don't interest me tonight. Mario Loshambo and his team are getting their butts kicked in the hockey game, and all that watching a tennis match does is cause me to remember Mike and Lola's bickering banter and make me crave chocolate-cover strawberries.
I don't recognize the program is on the station after sports at first. It is not until the combo of over dramatic dialogue and some bad acting surface that it hits me. This is Oliver's dumb old soap opera he watches, with and without his grandma. The familiar faces of Erica (or perhaps it's her evil twin cousin) and Storm enter the scene. His two favorite characters indulge in a passionate kiss. Immediately, I need to switch the channel. It just makes me wish I had my sensitive, yet dorky guy to reenact this with me.
All the channels that are left have music programs airing. "Top Rockers" is featuring some artist that I don't know, nor have any interest in discovering. Besides, Oliver hopes to one day be on that show, and that is the last thing I want on my mind. Next, I come across Barney Bittman. My feelings are bitter-sweet towards him now. This guy really likes my Ollie-pop, yet because of his blessing, Oliver gains in popularity nearly every day. (Not to sound selfish, but I see Bittman as helping to put more strains on my relationship, rather than furthering a music career.)
"One more channel." I tell myself. "There has to be something on to help you."
My thumb hits the "up" button for the last time. It only takes a split second to change signals. What appears on my television screen when it does, however, is absolutely the last thing I need to see.
-"Welcome back to America's Top Talent!"-
Oh great. It's the latest season of the very program that made Oliver a household name and a rare visitor in my own household.
This show is like a train wreck; no matter how hard I try, I can't look away from the devastation. I watch as Byron crushes one hopeful contestant's dream after another. In all reality, I am thankful that he was extremely out of character when he first heard Oliver sing. Everyone really loves my boyfriend's voice, but no one loves the man as a whole and for everything that he is more than I do. To "America's Top Talent", I owe my thanks and my misery.
The announcer explains that the show has a new segment this year called "ATT: Replay", where they showcase past contestants and his or her success. Before my heart has a chance to skip a beat, before my stomach gets to sink, before my gut can give me a sign, Oliver's face is plastered all over my screen set to a music montage. Clips from his performances on TV are shown, including the one where he clinched the semi-final spot and almost lost me to his own ego-explosion. Oliver isn't like that anymore. He tells me that attitude is long gone, yet these past few days have made me beg to differ. I love the guy no matter what. It's just not in me to truly hate Oliver. Sure, he needs a reality check every once and a while, but when he's with me, Oliver is sweet, funny, dorky- everything I need. This seemingly harmless promo is making me teary-eyed and miserable.
But now I hear and see my Ollie-pop giving an interview to that annoying reporter Brian Winters that I don't remember taking place. His hair is shorter and styled different so I know this footage must be fairly recent. When Oliver looks straight into the camera and flashes a trademark grin, I want to jump up out of my seat and hug the television, as embarrassing as that sounds. Instead, I stare half admiring and half lusting after my boyfriend. Oh what I would give to be able to jump through the screen and into "Oken Land" at this very moment.
"So Oliver, what got you to audition for America's Top Talent?"
"It's not what, it's who...and that would be my wonderful girlfriend, Lilly."
A small smile curls on my face from the comment. Oliver thinks I'm a wonderful girlfriend and gives me credit where credit is due.
"You've got a girlfriend, huh?"
"Yes sir. My best friend since preschool. We're in this for the long run. She supports me, and I love her very much."
Though I am still uneasy about the current situation, I can feel myself blushing at the kind words. I remember everything; even what he wore the first day we hugged. Supporting his dreams come natural when I realize that one of them is to grow old with me. Truth be told, Oliver is my everything, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
"Did you ever stop and think about touring? You certainly have potential to strike a deal or two."
Wait, what? This interview is pre tour time? I swear, it looks only weeks old to me! Oliver usually tells me when things like this take place. Hmm. My eye brow raises, and I continue to watch in confusion.
"Touring would be great."
"What about that girlfriend of yours? I believe you said her name was Lilly? What would she think of you being away on the road for months at a time?"
Brian asks the question. He brings up my daily struggle. I can't believe he wants to tackle such a subject. More importantly, I need to hear Oliver's answer. Curiosity makes me wonder if it is different than what is really happening.
"In a perfect world, she'd go with me."
"I'm more about the "what ifs" of life. Lets say your other half doesn't get to tag along. How do you make your relationship work under those circumstances?"
"Call her every day, as many times as I could. Text her special messages. I'd do everything I can to let her know I'm thinking about her."
Is that right, Oliver? That's exactly it? How come I am waiting desperately by the phone like a love-sick puppy, sulking because that promise has not been kept!? Why is this all a lie!?
"You really sound dedicated to this girl!"
"Of course I am. She knows it, too."
"What would you say to Lilly if she was watching right now and you got your shot to tour across the country?"
"Hey, Lilly-pop, sweetie. You're Ollie-pop misses you very much. I'm always thinking 'bout you, babe. See you soon! Love you!"
Oliver blows a kiss to the camera and I blow a fuse. Seeing his face at first is warm and comforting, but what I don't need to listen to is more of this slander.
Frustrated, I shut the TV off at once and toss the remote behind me. It lands with a dull thud somewhere on the beige carpet. The mix of an anxiety attack, withdrawal, disappointment, and heart ache form a horrible concoction and sends the most unpleasant feeling blasting through me. Do I miss him- incredibly! Do I believe in his words? Well, I'm not so sure anymore. If the falling out from earlier hadn't occurred, maybe I would be behaving normally. Since that is not the case, my mind tells my body that I have every reason to act and feel this way.
I don't even know what it is that I want from Oliver exactly. A stupid text may not be enough to calm my nerves and satisfy my need. I want contact; physical contact. I want to hold him, kiss him, and hear his own heart beat instead of the sound of my own shallow and pathetic one. Tell me the truth. Show me proof.
Distraught, my head falls straight into my hands. I burry deep into them and sob. "Oliver, are we really in this for the long run or not?"
Oliver's POV:
This is, without a doubt, the longest night of my life! Not even the first night on the van with the guys can compare to how I feel now. Every second just drags on and on as if they are double, maybe triple in length. It doesn't have to be this way. I don't have to go through all this extra effort just to prove a point.
But having to do something is different that wanting to do it. In this case, I neither have to nor want to get back to Lilly. It is a dire need that I see her tonight...preferably now.
I make so many bus transfers in the late evening hours that I lose count. Every new driver has a different way of saying I'm insane for doing this. Some are subtle and almost understand. Others boldly laugh in my face, yet accept me as a passenger. Their opinions do not matter. As long as I have enough cooperation to get the job done, I don't see a reason to complain.
Public transportation doesn't last forever, though. They have tight schedules to follow and must end all routes on time. Around midnight, I am left stranded in some small town, still a good two hours away from the love of my life. This presents a rough challenge: how do I proceed from here? Keep in mind I am still a minor; if I'm caught roaming the streets, the authorities can report me. My mother has police connections all across the state. That spells trouble, and I would never see Lilly after that.
After wandering for a few blocks, I finally spot a convenient store with a sign lit that says it is open twenty-four hours. Curious, I head inside and decide to see if someone working can offer any help. Honestly, I am skeptical. These people are notorious for not caring (and not speaking English either.) Lucky for me, there is an older lady behind the counter tonight who seems capable of compassion. It takes her a while to warm up to me and my story, but eventually, I tug at some heart strings. She does suggest I find somewhere to stay and pick up my journey in the morning, but I turn down the idea politely as possible. Lilly can't wait another second, let alone another night without me and vise versa.
Instead, I ask if the taxi cab service runs this late and if so, if I may call for one. She hands me a phone book with a smile on her face, saying that my girlfriend is very lucky to have a guy like me. I blush as I dial the number on the store's telephone. (At this point, I'm too emotionally torn inside to even look at my cell phone.) Betty, the kind cashier, tells me that I can grab a snack for the road. I contemplate on buying Lilly a chocolate bar, because I'm way too jittery to eat myself. Eventually, I decided on a sweet treat for my Lilly-pop. When the taxi arrives, I thank the woman working graciously and hop inside the vehicle. Once again, it takes some convincing, but with my haggling skills (which have improved greatly since the flea market in eighth grade and the sophomore year rummage sale) I manage to strike a deal with the driver: Malibu or bust.
So now I sit slouching in the back seat of the bright yellow vehicle. It's only a two hour drive, yet it feels like I'm riding in circles. Glancing at the clock on the cab's dashboard, I see that it reads two o'clock in the morning. A yawn tries to work its way out of my mouth but fails. My eyes are heavy, but not with sleep. They're sore and sunken. Tears fall easier than I like to admit, but right now, the ducts are dry. Those numb feelings and attitude return. I think I am past the point of wanting to cry, or at least I can refrain from it temporarily.
Scenery changes, but it is too hard to tell exactly where I am at night. Skies are dark and begin to gray as I travel forward. At one point along the way, rain begins to fall. It is not a torrential downpour, just a nonsense drizzle. This is just enough to make conditions for the driver difficult and to make my mood plummet and my worries sky-rocket.
I lean my head up against the cool glass and sigh. My breath makes a small portion of condensation fog up on the window. Slowly, I pick my finger up and decide to make a little picture. Instead of using words, I draw symbols to express my feelings and thoughts. There is what's supposed to be a donut, a heart, and a flower all in a row. The donut "hearts" the flower: I love Lilly.
Then I turn to an old childhood pastime that Lilly and I share: staring at the rain drops as they slide across the window. As I watch a tiny droplet glide, my brains starts to make a weird connection. It seems like this water drop and I are going through the same issue right now. Both of us are stuck in a place we don't want to be in and are trying desperately to change that. How long can we survive on our own before we reach the thing that makes us complete? The drop I am watching just wants to make it across the glass to form with another one. My little friend does win its race. It meshes with the drop waiting for it on the far side, and the two slide down the window together, perfectly content. If they get a happy ending, then why can't I? All I want is to reach my goal and absorb myself in Lilly just like water.
I don't realize just how much time I spend with these twisted inner thoughts of mine. The taxi cab driver announces that we are in the city of Malibu and that he needs further direction from here. Now I start to see familiar sights. The mall is closed, and Seaview High's parking lots are empty. Even in the rain, the beach looks like a scene from a post card. This is my home town, but I am not home just yet.
Inward spazzing builds. My brain and heart start some sort of anxious count down as I pass palm tree after palm tree. The vehicle turns on to mine and Lilly's street. I don't even bother looking at my own house to see if either one of my parents are home or awake. All my focus and attention is on the Truscott residents; my second home since pre-k. Inside that building is my beautiful angel; my loving little Lilly-pop.
The cab stops and pulls over right in front of Lilly's house. I notice that there aren't any cars parked in the driveway. That must mean Heather's is in the garage. Mine and Lilly's car remains stationary across the street where I last left it. She doesn't want to go for a drive in our car alone. Lilly can't take the feeling, but she doesn't have to worry about that anymore. Immediately, I undo my seat belt, gather my bag, and hop out of the cab, slamming the door shut.
"Ahem." The driver points to the cab's meter and glares. There's a little thing called a fee, Oliver. I am not going to skip out without paying, of course.
"Sorry. Just a little...excited..." I explain slightly embarrassed.
Squinting to read the amount I owe this man, I nearly get a heart attack from the size of the number. It takes a second to regain my composure, but when I do, I take out my wallet and being silently counting my money. "Will, uh...will this cover it?" I ask, handing over what I hope is a sufficient amount.
"You're short." The man reports.
"Can't you cut me a little slack?" My tone begs for mercy. "I already explained how important this trip is to me!"
"Kid, I should have kicked you out miles ago." He replies. "I don't mean to be rude, but I need the exact fare."
"Uh, yeah. Of course." I laugh nervously. "I, uh. I have that!"
Now I make a frantic search through all the contents of my beat-up wallet for more cash. Lets see. There are receipts that Lilly tells me to save, my Yippy Yummy Yogurt discount card, (They may have messed me up with the job application, but they have the best "froyo" in the world.), and my driver's license. The main pocket is empty.
The driver drums his fingers impatiently. I need to come up with some extra cash and fast! My nervous eyes meet the picture of Lilly that I always keep in the back section of my wallet. Her smile beams some reassurance at me. This is last year's school picture; a few months in to our relationship. On the back, it reads as such:
"Ollie-pop: We may be dating, but you're still a dork. No, you're my dork! Thanks for always being there when I need you. Now I can be there for you, Lilly-pop. P.S. One day you will see that Radiohead is so much better than Coldplay!"
I laugh because she wrote in black pen originally, then had to make a correction in blue. We just started saying "I love you" the next day, so she crossed out her name and wrote "Love, Lilly-pop" instead.
Then it hits me. I know where I have some money hidden. Just behind my girlfriend's picture, there is a hundred dollar bill. I keep it tucked away safe because I plan on using it to buy Lilly and I tickets to the Radiohead concert coming up later in the fall. She doesn't know I have cash stashed away or that I even want to go see her favorite band. It is a surprise; a surprise that, as of now, has no chance of actually happening. This last bill needs to be put towards paying off the cab fare. What a bitter-sweet moment.
"How's this?" I sigh and hand over the last remaining form of currency I possess. The driver double checks the machine and nods.
"You have a nice night, son." He tells me and drives off down the other end of my road. Why do I stand here and watch such a thing? I have a girlfriend to hold, kiss, and, well, whatever else we feel doing! Get moving!
I turn on a dime and start bolting up the sidewalk. A lone street light flickers in the distance, lighting the pathway up to the Truscott's porch. Both the cement sections and stairs are a little slippery due to the rain. The weather is now starting to calm; the precipitation does not fall quiet as heavy. It is as if it is a sign that says I'm back where I belong. Everything is alright now.
When I reach the steps, my first reaction is to just bust the door off its hinges and barrel straight on through the house. Common sense does kick in and stop me. It's either incredibly late or early (depending on everyone's opinion on two-thirty am.) Even though I am sure that Ms. T is out cold in her room upstairs, I can't just go charging into her house like this. Lilly should be asleep, too, but something in my gut tells me she is not. If that's the case, then that is all the more reason to essentially "break and enter." She needs me...or is I need her more?
That spare key of mine is around here somewhere! Once I find the silver life saver, I carefully unlock the wooden door, turning the key in small increments so that the noise is kept to a minimum. The door creaks as I push it open to get inside the house. I make sure to shut and lock it once more when I am finished. Step one: complete. Now to find Lilly.
My wet sneakers make that terribly annoying squeaking sound on the tile of the kitchen floor as I make my through the room. According to the layout of the Truscott house, I have to pass the living room in order to reach the stairs that lead to the bed rooms. I don't make it as far as a two steps into that room before a see a depressing sight. Lilly is curled up on her side on the couch with my red hoodie on and pulled down over her face, sniffling and shivering. She's a mess in every way, shape, and form, and clearly, I am the one to blame. Why did I leave her? This is nothing but a flashback to the ATT semi-finals. I get chance after chance to redeem myself, but I never learn. Now is the time to change that and prove myself.
"Lilly?"
I call my girlfriend's name quietly, but just loud enough for her to hear. She twitches in response. Her eyes are slow to move as she cracks them open seemingly against their will. It is now that I can see just how puffy, red, and sore they are. There's no doubt in my mind that my poor baby cried herself to sleep tonight. "Ol...Oliver?" Lilly questions with her dry, scratchy voice.
She appears broken-spirited and broken souled, but I pray to God that Lilly is not broken hearted. Just the mire image and thought causes me to have shortness of breath. It is not easy coming face-to face with reality when it's such a bitter picture. The reason for my existents grows lonely and cold in her own sulking manner. I reap what I sew.
"Surprise?" I bit my lip as a nervous reaction. I can sense that Lilly and I are not on the same wave length right off the bat. Something about my presence irks her. Is it my worst fear come true? Am I a fool for having done all this for girl who lost her faith in me?
"Oh no, not again..." Lilly wines, burying her head in the tiny throw pillow. It isn't clear to me whether she want to erase the situation, or just erase me completely.
"What's wrong?" I ask perplexed. Coming home is supposed to make me whole again. This heavy weight of insecurity around my heart needs to crumble to pieces now that I am here. Where is the smiling face I want? Why am I being greeted in such a way as if I'm not welcome?
"I'm having the stupid dream again..." She trails, pounding her fist against the couch cushion in frustration.
"Huh?"
"The one where you show up saying you're done with this stupid tour! That your sick of this fame and wanna go back to being Ollie-pop, not Ollie-pop star!" Lilly sniffs and sits up angrily with her hands in her lap. "Well I'm sick of having this happen every time I'm lucky enough to get a little sleep!"
My face is paired with a reoccurring dream? All of what Lilly says figuratively knocks the wind out of me. Her exact quotes match my actions verbatim. Truth is behind every word describing her inner thoughts. What I don't understand is why Lilly has such a hatred for this. I am only standing here because I love her, miss her, and can't take the risk of loosing everything I have. Maybe this is my dream, only it's more of a nightmare.
"But it's not a dream!" I protest strongly. Lilly should know the difference.
"Why does this keep happening!?" Lilly sobs, lowering her head. "It only makes me miss the real Oliver more!"
"But I am the real Oliver!"
"Everything's playing out just like it usual does!" Lilly makes her point without looking at me.
"What happens next in this dream?" I question, trying to get a feel for this imaginary scenario so I can break the pattern and prove my existence.
"You say Orlando Bloom can have his way with me and you finally take my side in the Radiohead verse Coldplay debate."
"Orlando's a flake, and honey, I'll go to the grave defending Chris and the guys."
"Oliver!?" Lilly pops her head up gasps at my answers. The truth finally settles: her brain and her heart know that I am honestly standing in her living room tonight, unannounced and unexpected.
"Want me to pinch ya just in case?" I wink and form my classic dorky grin in hopes that it will ease her into listening to the deep conversation that waits in the back of my mind.
"Ollie-pop!"
Lilly flies off of the couch and rushes towards me. Immediately, I drop my duffle bag straight to the floor; the contents shift as it falls. I can't stand back and watch her leap on me. However the single-handed assault does begin to wither away at the thick block of worries I have hanging around me. She's not the only one pent up complications. Don't think I don't have dreams like this, too, my dear. Only this time, I know I am awake. I know that what is taking place is doing so in real-time.
We meet in the middle, our bodies merging in a tight embrace. Though it is assumed that I can read my girlfriend's mind since we know each other so well, Lilly is a blank page to me at the moment. I wonder how I feel and come across as to her. To me, Lilly feels cool to the touch, even in my hoodie. She seems so frail and fragile as well. That's oddly out of character. When I have nothing to propel me, I look to Lilly-pop for strength. It looks as though me being gone sucks the life right out of both of us. Now it's time to rejuvenate. Ignoring any and all thoughts and surroundings, we leave ourselves pressed together.
Only when I hear a soft, yet sharp inhale escape Lilly's mouth, do I become concerned. I pull back slightly, and I see that a few tears are ready to fall at any second. Do I hurt her still?
"I was just so certain..." Lilly quivers. I rub her back when she shakes. Why does my little girl still have the look of distraught on her face? I am supposed to be saving her, saving us.
"Certain of what?" I push back the hood that Lilly hides from the world in and reply in the same tone.
"Certain it was a dream...Certain you wouldn't be back..."
I knew I had a genuine reason to act so rationally. It's a good thing I listen to heart. Another day on the road, and I may not have a girlfriend to come home to anymore. That is why I am here now.
I take hold of both sides of Lilly's slick, tear-stained face and bring her to eye level. Behind the glossy surface, the sparkle I love and miss so dearly tries to connect with me. She blinks and a tear from each eye slips. They trickle down to my thumbs, where I wipe them away.
"Be certain of this..."
Though there is a fiery urge circulating through my veins to utilize our favorite piece of furniture that is a few steps to our right to show Lilly just how strong my desires for her are, I have enough common sense to go for the adorkable moment. After nearly six long months of withdrawal, lips finally capture what is rightfully mine. Here come the butterflies and the fireworks; this kiss is even better than our first one. Lilly responds just enough to mimic deep feelings. The sweet taste and tickling sensations mix. Now my own eyes water. They fill up, and I don't try to stop them from overflowing. I am caught, however, and Lilly's ends the kiss.
"I love you, Lilly-pop..." I say low and smoothly.
"I love you, too, Ollie-pop." Lilly sniffles. We both find it hard to control our emotions.
"Then why are you are you crying, baby?" I ask, brushing stray strands of hair that stick to her wet cheeks.
"I'm just so happy..." She admits with a blush. "Happy to see you. Happy to feel you..." Lilly puts her innocence on hold and lets a seductive smile curl. "And incredibly happy to taste you!"
The second her sentence ends, Lilly lunges and attacks me with kisses; excitement fluttering throughout our minds, bodies, and souls. (She is the first to act on impulse and when play it calm. I guess I don't need to hold back as much after all.) Some are sudden and sort of sloppy. Others are soft and sweet. All of them are heart-felt in one way or another.
She's taking control just like any given day. It's official; my girlfriend's back to normal.
"Oh, I've missed you." I half sigh, half moan into our last kiss. My hands run through her beautiful blonde hair for the first time in months. When it ends, I motion to the couch behind us, which is an offer to sit down and lose ourselves in one another in a more comfortable environment. Lilly smiles in agreement and takes my hand. I lace our fingers together and take a seat, carefully guiding her down beside me. I slouch against the loose back pillow of the couch while Lilly finds her way to the classic spot, and fits her head into the crook of my neck. To an outsider's point of this, this is just a scene from a typical late-night get together. In my head, I'm still somewhat tense.
"I still can't believe your actually here." Lilly words vibrate through my body.
"I guess-" I cough nervously. "I guess I owe you an explanation..."
I feel Lilly freeze and our fingers unlace. Now we're on the same page. Unfortunately, the content is not so easy to read. "Yeah. Yeah, you do..." She picks her head up and turns to me giving off a serious persona with a hint of dagger eyes. "There's a lot you need to clear up."
"Am I in the dog house?" Inside, I'm worried sick.
"One foot in, one foot out."
"But I'm here." I try to glorify the fact that I just spent nearly seven hours conquering all sorts of obstacles just to see the glow of my girlfriend's face and have it lit my fire again. "Doesn't that make things any better?"
"I'd still like to know, Oliver."
"You were on the right track with your dream. Well, the first part anyway." Removing my shoes with my feet, I kick them off and push them underneath the coffee table. Just in my socks, I raise my legs up on the couch to sit Indian style and turn my body in Lilly's direction. "Don't you notice that I came back a whole two, three weeks early?"
"The date you were supposed to be here is circled on every calendar in the house, and I have sticky notes with it on them posted everywhere." Lilly tells me of her obsession to keep tabs of my estimated time of arrival; when our nightmare would end. She sits in the same manner as me; the only difference being is she barefoot. "Believe me, I kept track."
"Well that date wasn't working for me." I announce, taking her hand once more. "I mean, there were times when I thought I could handle it, because I had your blessing. You told me to make you proud, and I tried, Lilly. I really tried."
"You do make me proud, honey." My hand receives a comforting squeeze. As soon as I feel her magic working, Lilly adds more to her statement that hinders it. "But you also have the ability to make me stressed and strung out, especially these past few days."
"That's why I'm here, sweetie, don't you get it? I ditched the guys, abandoned the tour, and pulled out all the stops just to make it tonight, because I feared you felt like that." I am one hundred percent honest. "It's a darn good thing I did, isn't it? You really do feel that way..."
Brown eyes twitch at her like they could spring a leak. Can't she see my reason? Does she understand the concerns?
"You...you really quit your tour and gave up all of that based on a gut feeling that I could be falling apart beyond repair?"
I take a deep breath in and out before being very blunt with my reasoning. "I don't wanna live out of a suit case anymore. I've traveled by van so much that I've developed motion sickness. I can't stand being with immature musicians with contaminated brains, whose life mission is to play tricks and set things up so it looks like I'm being an obnoxious, unfaithful jerk to you. And if I had to wake up alone one more time, I swear, I'd go bananas."
I pause to observe Lilly's reaction. There is relatively no change. She's just listening to my rant attentively and quiet. For the finale of this outburst, I dig deep into my pocket and pull out the main supplier of all this pent up frustration. "But most of all, I don't ever want to have to rely on a stupid, good-for-nothing, piece of junk like this, just to know if you're still breathing!"
The blue cell phone finally gets what it deserves as I slam it down of the table so hard that it pops off the battery covering. A sharp exhale makes my nostrils flair. Her blue eyes are still trying to absorb the shock of the situation, but Lilly is able to give me a surprise of her own. She, too, takes out her phone and places it right next to mine, but in a more careful manner. We don't need theme anymore: simple as that. Seeing Lilly agree by mimicking my actions eases tension. Soon we both smile faintly and lean in for kiss to further dissolve our sour feelings.
"You did know..." Lilly sounds astonished. "You knew all along and felt just as bad."
"I started the show in Sacramento a complete wreck. To help, I tried switching up the set list to start off with a song dedicated to you. All it did was make matters worse." I explain. "And when I didn't hear from you, I...I lost it. Something inside of me snapped and I bolted for the door."
"Well I was waiting on you." She admits, shyly. "You promised me I'd hear from you, remember?"
"Isn't seeing me much better?" I try to shine a light on my extra effort.
"Snuggling with you is a billion times better..."
Lilly wedges herself between me and the back pillows of the couch. She curls up against my side, fitting just right. Her head buries deep in my clothes. "I've missed this more than anything." She adds.
"Really?" I kiss the top of her head. A faint apple scent still emits.
"Mmhmm." My neck is nuzzled. "That's why I wear you hoodie all the time. It's the next best thing to you."
"Well you do look good in it." I tilt my head down and compliment. This old, faded thing has been around for almost a year now. I don't take much notice to it, but I guess it has amazing healing powers. It seems like Lilly likes that hoodie more than me right now! Am I seriously getting jealous? "But I'm here now. I'd like to do my job."
Sly as a fox, I reach my arm around and every so slowly slide the zip down and off its track. Once it's open, I carefully brush away the red fabric from her shoulders. One at a time, I tug on the sleeves and free Lilly's arms. I toss the beloved article of clothing behind us nonchalantly. Lilly props her back up against me. My arms hold her tight and rub skin so that she is nice and warm; just like she feels when she wears my hoodie. This fuzzy feeling I get from this action starts to become a little more in depth. My devilish grin is in Lilly's blind spot, so she doesn't have any time to prepare when my soft lips meet the smooth skin of her neck. A combination gasp of excitement and sigh of pleasure escapes.
"Oliver..." Her voice is like velvet and melts me. I smile on her skin when I hear it. Lilly's giggle passes right through her body and into mine. Heads turn and stretch in any way possible just so our mouths may have a long-awaited heated collision. Hello, Lilly's tongue. It's been ages since we've seen (rather felt) each other. Oh the sensation that shockwaves down my spine! This is it: we're melting like the rain drops, eclipses like the sun and the moon. We sink into the couch and let things flow...
Lilly and I both do an excellent job of "making up for lost time." Everything returns as second nature. No one needs to familiarize themselves with the territory in front of them. Not that I ever want to spend an extended period of time away from my girlfriend again, but at least I know Lilly and I can spring right back into action.
I crack my back as I slouch against the arm of the couch. The navy hoodie I walked in wearing now rest behind me and my shirt is...well, who knows where that thing is. My bottoms are on, but the fly of my skinny jeans is pulled down partly. I look to Lilly, who is having a fight with her stubborn tank top. It doesn't seem to want to go back over her head (and I wouldn't mind if it didn't.) Eventually, she gets the fabric to obey with my assistance. Any guy can take his girl's clothes off, but it takes a real gentleman to help put them back on afterwards. That is my odd form of chivalry. Lilly actually finds it really sweet, too.
"Ok, I take it back!" Lilly announces in a huff and flops down right in the center of my bare chest, exhausted. "I missed that a lot, too."
"Who's better now, Lilly: me or my hoodie?" I chuckle to myself. Blonde, straggly hairs cover her face, so I remove and tuck them behind her ears. "I missed everything and all of you."
Sweaty and all, I press my lips to Lilly's forehead with a smile. Her chins props up as she reaches to play with my sticky bangs. I never got a real answer if she likes my new style or not, but I love it when Lilly ruffles my hair, so I keep it long enough and shaggy enough for play. We gaze loving and have the classic, cheesy romance moment. It's not often that we fit a stereotype other than dorky. In the midst of this eye-shimmering scene, I fidget underneath her. All of Lilly's actions stop.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm cold." I reply simply.
Reaching out and stretching my arms backwards, I mange to find the sleeves of my dark blue hoodie and put my arms through the wholes. (That takes skill and a lot of practice.) Lilly does have to graciously lean back just a smidge for this to happen. The navy covering hangs loosely around my upper body. It's not just my arms that have a chill. Despite the fact that sweat glistens as it drips in lines down my chest, it is also cool. Without thinking first, I go to zip up my hoodie. Of course, this becomes a fail: Lilly has a rebuttal.
"Oh no you don't!" The slap Lilly unleashes on my hand doesn't come as a surprise, but it does hurt. I laugh at her adorable, control action, while the face she gives me in return is really rather stern. "You still owe me, mister!" Lilly growls.
"Quiet, Lills, honey. You'll wake your mom!" I whisper in the same tone, holding my point finger to my mouth.
"I'll wake her? After your oh yeah fit!?" She points out my need to use that phrase excessive when we're "together" with a laugh. "I don't think so."
"I wouldn't be talking, little miss "eep!" Yes, we argue over who's trademark phrase is more fun to tease the other with; we're Oliver and Lilly!
"Oh, don't act like ya don't love it!"
Lilly playfully jabs me in the gut with her elbow at the end of the sentence. Usually, I fake that I am in some about of crippling pain, but I don't have to pretend. This twisted display of affection seriously has a stinging presence. Our eyes meet just after I wince. We exchange smiles; this is all a game to us. Gently, I press my lips to her nose, but Lilly isn't feeling sweet and innocent. She wants a more substantial, more savory kiss. When I pull back, our mouth collides for a wholesome experience.
"Are we gonna start this again?" I ask, intrigued.
"That depends: you thinkin' what I'm thinkin'...?" Lilly steals my line. (I'm looking into how I can claim the exclusive, North American rights to that and "Oh Yeah.")
"I'm thinking about what a lucky guy I am to have such an amazing, beautiful girlfriend." I opt for the humble answer.
"Ollie..." Lilly blushes, which causes me to blush as well. She lightly kisses my cheek and wraps her around me, but underneath the open hoodie. (Can't get enough of the Greek god bod.) We rest our head upon each others shoulder and wish time would just stop ticking for once. This is a moment I crave. Soak it in slowly, Oliver. My dry, shriveled heart needs to absorb every bit. It plans to make a full recovery from its dehydrated state.
Suddenly, we are jarred from this position but a loud buzz. One quick turn of our head, and we see that it is Lilly's cell phone vibrating on the table that is making the noise.
"Who the heck is texting you this late?" I ponder out loud.
Lilly shrugs and picks up the phone. Her eye brows rise in confusion and astonishment. "It's...it's from you..."
"Impossible; I'm sitting right here!"
It's not until Lilly flicks open the phone and reads the message out loud that I fully understand:
*About to go on stage. Just wanted to let to know I'm thinking about you and miss you, babe. I know we had a rough few days. Tour is really taking its toll on me. I hope you are staying strong for your sake and mine. No matter what happens, I'll always love you, Lilly-pop. Believe it. Trust it. Don't forget it. You get plenty of rest for school now, sweetheart. In a few weeks at this time, I'll be lying next to you, and everything will be alright again. Sweet dreams. Love, Oliver.*
It's my message, alright. My four hundred and fifty-plus character text message finally arrives. I was so paranoid, so distraught over its delivery. The message contains so many words that it went over both of our limits. Lilly receives it about seven hours too late and in a couple different sections. She closes the phone nears tears. Wow...
"Your special text..." I breathe. "It made it..."
"I- I thought you forgot."
"I thought you were mad and just didn't reply. I guess we both over reacted." I admit a mistake when I see one.
"Yeah..." Lilly replies. "Guess we did..."
We remain still as statues when we reveal our true thought processes. No one looks the other in the eye. The silence is used as a time to really stop and think about today's situation. Lilly being Lilly, has her revelation first.
Or is it more that she has the ability to think of teasing comments faster than I do?
"Drama King!" Lilly spits out and point her finger at me.
"Uh, that makes you a drama queen!" I am quick to make such a connection.
"Well I am stuck taking intro this year." Lilly grumbles about her school schedule. "But don't under estimate my powers!"
"Never! I know better than that!" Hands fly up in a surrender-like fashion. "I bow before your great, controlling ways." I do just as I say.
"Oh really?" Lilly questions skeptically. "Then can I skip school tomorrow to stay with you, Ollie-pop?" I am being shown the cutesy face. How come I'm not allowed to pull that move when I want something, but Lilly is? I can't fight the adorable face, but tonight, I am feeling tough. Some of Lilly's extra strength must have rubbed off on me when we were, well, when I was taking care of my jealous hoodie issues.
"School's way too important to mess around with, honey. You want to be a teacher, and they have to be there all the time. Besides, I'm going back tomorrow, too."
"Why?" She asked shocked and confused. "You don't have any books or half your clothes."
"I got enough in that duffle bag to get me through the rest of the week." I point to my belongings. "Plus, I think there might be some presents in there for a certain someone..."
"Presents with a's'!? As in plural!? For me!?"
Holding back a laugh, I nod and watch Lilly scramble to retrieve the bag. When she turns around, I see that her tank top is actually on inside out; the seams are clearly visible. Sorry for not double checking when we redressed, Lilly-pop. She isn't aware of this, and I don't want to ruin things by informing her. In a strange way, she looks cute with her shirt like this. It's Lilly; she's always cute.
"Careful now." I warn as she plops right down on the cushion in the space in between my legs, which are stretched out long ways. Excited like it's Christmas morning, Lilly zips open the bag at once and starts rummaging. The first box she comes across, (as there are actually quite a few things for her) has a pair of turquoise earrings in it.
"Oliver they're gorgeous!" Lilly exclaims wide-eyed and mesmerized by the sparkling jewelry that matches her eyes. "They must have cost a fortune, though!"
"Anything for you, babe." I tack a peck on Lilly's cheek from behind with my reply. She wants to show her gratitude and turns to affectionately kiss my lips.
"I can't wait to wear them to school tomorrow!" She squeals with joy.
"Speaking of which, I think it's time we got some sleep. You have your alarm set?"
"It is on my phone." Lilly tells me. "My mom works later, so we'll be gone before she gets up."
Lilly closes the earring box and puts it back in the bag. She zips it up and cautiously lowers it to the floor beside us. "Don't you wanna go upstairs?" She lets a question slip. "You'd be able to stretch out there and have a real pillow and blanket."
"To tell ya the truth, there's no place I'd rather be than right here in the spot, cuddling with you."
I place my hand on Lilly's waist, gently lowering her back down against my bare chest. (Forget a swimmer's body. I prefer my girlfriend's surfer and skater body over anything else.) She curls up towards the center, finds a position to settle in for the night, and lets her heavy eyes close themselves. I hold her snug in that position, rocking slightly.
"Ollie-pop?"
"Hmm?"
"Will you sing to me?" A request is made sweetly and sleepily.
"Singing is all I've been doing for months." I state. "I'm kind getting tired of hearing it."
"But I haven't heard you sing in forever."
"Not tonight, Lilly."
"But Oliver..." Lilly doesn't whine, but the tone in her voice is a persuasive one.
I sigh. "What song, my love?"
"Anything." She murmurs. I know for a fact that the second I open my mouth to sing, I'm going to be interrupt by the cutest snore escaping form Lilly. She's dead tired. We both are. It is impossible to say no to someone like her, though.
"A few bar from a chorus." I explain my plan.
"Perfect..." Lilly trails.
Quietly, I clear my throat as Lilly snuggles her face against me. I know exactly what I want to sing to her. It is how felt all along and how I'm feeling this instant.
"My beating heart belongs to you. I'd walk for miles til I found you. I'm here to honor you."
My head hangs just above Lilly's angelic face. The smile on it is one I have never seen before. It gives me hope, security, and purpose; Lilly gives me something to live for.
"If I lose everything in the fire-"
I pause and close my eyes. My weary head rests face-first on her own as I breathe the final message: "I'm sending all my love to you."
Ahh, Loliver fluff. I love the warm, fuzzy feeling it brings. As usual, I tried to end this story about four times, but just kept thinking of new ideas. This turned into quite an emotional rollercoaster, but I hope you enjoyed the end result. Reviews/comments/thoughts; leave me anything that's on your mind about the chapter or the whole thing.
Thank you so much for reading.
-Marissa
I just want one make one last quick statement. It doesn't matter what happens March 7th and 14th. This is fan FICTION; we can write anything we want. There are plenty more Lollies in the heads of the great writers on this site. I plan to keep hashing away at a few ideas. These two are just too darn adorkable and perfect to abandon!