I like you - Post Malone

16 Austin

One day at Willow's turns into one week and then one month. Austin has never felt more alive, never more relaxed, never more at ease than he does on Willow's land, in Willow's truck, or around Willow herself. Even when he was a kid he always had a slight nervous feeling as if something bad was waiting around every corner. Not out here - not with Willow. It's been a month and he does not even know where his phone is. The last he remembers having it was back at his house when he got hold of Nash, it could still be there or buried somewhere in Willow's very busy house. He does not care for it - he has been a busy man. He has fallen into Willow's lifestyle easily although he still won't milk Dasy or stand too close to Goerge who is not gorgeous and looks like he is about to vomit on him every time he does get a little too close. But, he does other things and he is very good at them.

He always wakes Willow up in the morning by slipping between her thighs, kissing her till she giggles, and then pushing into her till she whimpers. He swims in the river, still cold as fuck, but he has stopped complaining - it wakes his spirit up. Willow always makes him a big breakfast after and it's always good. You would think her cooking will have him packing the weight on but it does not because she keeps him busy, very busy. She had a crazy-looking man drop off a mountain of wood and then insisted he split it all. She was very demanding about it. It's a lot so he has to do a little every day while Willow sits in the apple tree and watches him as she munches on apples. It always ends with her pushing him to the ground and fucking him, he is not complaining.

He drives her van and helps her with her dog grooming. At first, those who did recognize him always looked like they would faint, but people have grown used to his presence now and treat him like just another person. His greatest accomplishment to them is being Willow's boy - he is pretty proud of that too, to be honest. He has learned how to harvest and bottle wild honey,  and make whiskey and wine - he has also learned not to die when he drinks Willow's whisky. It's a win in his books. He mows Willow's lawn on her ride-on the mower while she sits on the back and tells him extravagant stories of her childhood - her father is crazy by the way. He fixes fence poles, makes jam, plants vegetables, gathers eggs, and tries his hand at fishing in Willow's river while Zeus runs around - wild and free. In the late afternoon sun, Willow will grab her wine or whiskey and join him on the small wooden deck he built her in the middle of the field her wildflowers will eventually pop up in. She will paint, read, or look for signs of wildflowers while Austin strums softly on his guitar, writing lyrics on the homemade paper Willow had given him.

Once the sun is gone and it's dark they will head inside where Willow cooks him a feast and then they make a fire that Zeus flops down in front of while Willow puts one of her old records on. Austin tells Willow all his secrets, sharing more with her as the month rolls on and eventually by the end of the month he has no secrets - she knows them all. He tells her about how he felt his father was a weak man for never moving up in the world. How he told his mother she had disappointed him by expecting her love to be enough for him - he had turned his back on the two people who had given him everything they had and all he had done was shun them. He broke their hearts. She never judged him or scolded him, she never looked at him with disgust or discernment. She had been kind, her arms wrapping around him tightly. He told her how he had grown to hate the music he had once loved, he had hated it so much he had lost the ability to write, to compose - but it was coming back. There was a time when he could not so much as write a song title. But, he had four songs already - he wrote them for her. They are about her, how she makes him feel, how she makes him forget, and what she makes him finally see. He has a million more songs just waiting to tumble onto those papers.

He also comes to the stark realization that he wants out. Out of Hollywood. He wants to sing, it will always be in his blood - it's who he is. But, he wants out. No more parties, or red carpets. No more superficial relationships. He wants to sing for the love of the music, for the adrenaline caused by the emotions people attach to his songs - not for the fame, not for the money, and certainly not for the big fatcat record labels. He wants out. But, he does not know what that looks like or where to start. He is in an iron-clad contract with no way out.