The Obscure Downsides of Fame (New Edition)

30 || stick around

"That's fine," I told him. "Take your time. I'm right here."

I hadn't noticed him reaching out with his hand until his fingers found mine, and I let him pull me towards him. I watched him silently as his other hand found mine too, and then as his eyes darted around my face, and for a moment I doubted he was actually planning to kiss me. But then he looked at my lips, and then my eyes, and he pulled me closer again, and I closed my eyes right before putting his lips on mine.

It was a bit weird at first. It was like lips touching lips, almost like a movie kiss. But when I untangled our fingers and placed one of my hands in the crook of his neck, it was like he melted into it. I didn't care that his lips were dryer than they'd been the last time, because this was everything I'd been missing for the past few weeks. It didn't matter that he had a slight stubble scratching at my skin, or that his curls had grown out enough to be tickling my forehead, or that the kiss was gentle and short. It was nice.

I opened my eyes when his lips weren't on mine anymore, and he held my wrist right there, so my hand couldn't move from its spot at the place where his jaw hinged, right below his ear. And he never moved away too far, so he could lean his forehead against mine.

His eyes were still closed, and patiently waited for him to say something, but not a word left his mouth.

"Are you okay?" I asked, which I immediately realized was stupid. A single kiss would not suddenly make him okay.

He opened his eyes, and he found mine in an instant. The glassiness had faded; he no longer looked like an uncanny recreation of himself. "I do feel a little better," he said, this time with a barely noticeable smile. I would've probably missed it hadn't I been this close to him. "Sometimes I just need to ground myself."

"I make you feel grounded?" My face mimicked his, but his sly smile from before grew into a lopsided grin, revealing the dimple on his cheek, and he nodded.

"Music usually does the trick as well."

"Did you just compare me to music?"

"That means a lot, coming from a musician, you know?"

I laughed, and he put an arm around my waist, and then he pulled me closer, both arms tightly around me as my shoulder was pressed against his chest.

I froze up. I wasn't so lonely that I'd never been hugged before, but this was different. My parents had never been huggers. Kylan would've killed me if I'd even ask for one. Hugs with my friends were always short and brief.

Oakley gave you the type of hug a kid would give their favorite stuffed animal. He was all in, hand my back pressed against his chest, with his nose buried in my neck.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

"Yeah." My body had flamed up. I didn't know where to put my hands or how much pressure needed to hug him back.

"Just relax," he said, and I tried to let go of the tension. I wanted to enjoy this, so I closed my eyes and leaned into it, slowly putting my arm around his back and resting it right below his ribs. "There you go."

I had started sweating profusely, and I wasn't quite sure he could smell it yet. Maybe he could feel my heart rate speeding up with every little change in his touch. I didn't want him to notice how new this all was to me.

"Are you okay?" he asked me this time around.

"Mhm." I couldn't say any words, because it would give me away.

"Do you maybe want to talk about something?"

"L— like what?"

"How has that movie been? You don't talk about your work much." Air fanned over the back of my hand every time he exhaled, and from this up close, his voice seemed different. Maybe a little lower, or maybe he was just quieter. I wasn't quite sure.

"Alright, I think," I said, becoming awfully aware of my own breathing. It had become uneven, and every breath was either too deep or not deep enough. "The people are nice."

"That's great," he said, smiling again.

Between me just coming home from work, the heat of Oakley's skin and sweat pooling up underneath my armpits, I was having a hard time focusing.

"I did talk to my mom a bit. About this movie, I mean. I told her I want to do something more meaningful."

He let go of me, and I felt like I could breathe again. I watched how his eyes scanned over my face, his eyebrows drawing together as he asked me a question.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Something more than some straight rom-com. Something that deals with real shit, you know?"

He nodded. "And what did she say?"

"I think she gets it, which is a first." My mom and I rarely came to an agreement. Usually she'd tell me to do shit, or she'd give me an ultimatum, so essentially anything I did was first decided by her. This was one of the only things of which I could confidently say this was my own, unprompted idea. And my mom was okay with it. "She sent me something the other day. It's about a few high school kids, all with these issues. A girl who has to help raise her six siblings, her boyfriend who's being groomed, her best friend with a dying mom. It sounds like the exact thing I'd been looking for, but I guess I'm a little nervous."

"Why?"

"I don't know." Something within me was a little afraid that I wouldn't come in rightfully. That maybe someone with a smaller name but bigger talent would come along, but that they wouldn't get the chance because of who my parents were. "Do you think I should do it? They'd only start filming in late March, I believe."

"I think you should do it," he said, but he didn't even take a second to think about it.

"I mean, really just think about it. Do you think it'd be a good idea?"

"Why wouldn't it be? You're an amazing actor. They'd be lucky to have you."

"Of course you'd say that," I mumbled. "You're trying to make me feel better about this shit. And you're not an actor. Nepotism isn't the same in our industries."

"I mean, I know, but in a way that makes it better coming from me, doesn't it? I think in acting it's all basically fair game. Ninety percent of actors are from nepotism, but most of them get ridiculed for being terrible at it, so they end up in romances and comedies."

"So what are you trying to say? That I'll embarrass myself if I end up booking the job?"

"The opposite. I wouldn't be telling you to go for it if I didn't think you were good enough. The last thing I want is for you to embarrass yourself."

He gave me one of those dazzling smiles, and the corners of my lips pulled into a soft smile too.

"If I get too much criticism, I will be blaming you. Just so you know," I warned him. He laughed, and I watched him.

"Fine. I'll take it as a bet. If I win and you won't get overcriticized, you take care of the next date."

"But that'll be in at least a year from now, maybe even two."

"Then you better stick around until then. And that date better be sweeping me off my feet."

My heartbeat rose a bit as he looked at me after saying this. Two years was quite a while away.

"You think we can last that long?"

"I hope we can," he said, but that wasn't really an answer. We hadn't even named this thing between us yet. We'd only once been able to talk about it before we had to be apart for weeks, now leaving things open ended, and we somehow had to tie all loose ends together now.

"I want to spend more time with you," I said. Nothing could grow out of this if we could only see each other once or twice a month.

"I'm available whenever you want. Literally," he said, laughing quietly.

"You remember the beach house I was telling you about? Let's go tonight."

"Yeah," he said, nodding as he looked at no spot in particular. He was looking straight ahead, like what he was looking at didn't matter. Something was going on inside his head that was truly of importance. "I think I could use a little escape to the beach."

•••