Oliver Loves Carson | ✔️

chapter one

The lilt of the music echoed throughout the street as cars whizzed by, drivers widening their eyes at the big pink truck. A giant ice cream cone was mounted on top of the van, causing all eyes to be drawn to the vehicle. Oliver huffed, rolling his eyes and tapping on the steering wheel. This was the worst summer job ever.

No one even bought ice cream anymore. People were too busy going off on their summer adventures--just going and going and going until they hardly had time to stand still. For the past few weeks, all he had done was pull over to the side of a nearby street and wait for anyone to come up to the side of the truck.

No one ever did.

Then, all of a sudden, he heard laughter. Warm chuckles floated into the air and rung in the atmosphere, mingling with the sound of high-pitched giggling. Lazily, he drew his eyes in the direction of the noise. Oliver's eyes widened when he caught sight of the one person he did not want to see. A sigh of disbelief fell from his parted lips.

"Shit," he spat.

Carson Katsaros. His dirty blonde hair fell messily over his forehead and his hazel eyes glinted mischievously. His forehead was coated in a faint sheen of sweat due to the heat, but his lips were stretched into a wide grin. His hands were tucked in the pockets of his navy knee-length khaki shorts, and his white quarter-sleeve shirt pressed into the hard ridges and planes of muscle on his body. He strolled casually down the street with a group of his usual friends--two girls and two other boys that Oliver did not know the names of, but figured he had probably seen around school. Oliver's heartbeat sped up. Carson was the epitome of laid back.

And Oliver was the epitome of in love with him.

Carson could not see Oliver here, in this bright pink ice cream truck, wearing a stupid hat, with his stupid baggy shirt and his stupid grey sweatpants that stupid Oliver had decided to wear in the dead of summer.

Oliver was quite sure that if that happened, he would die of embarrassment.

He should've worn the work uniform he was given. It still looked dumb, but it was better than the pajamas he was wearing right now. On any other person, his pajamas might have looked cool, attractive even, but Oliver was tall and slender with ebony skin--he didn't have an ounce of muscle on him.

And today was the day of all days where Oliver had decided to screw the rules. He didn't particularly care about this job, so he hadn't particularly cared if he was fired.

Stupid fucking pink ice cream truck.

Oliver scowled and slid lower into the driver's seat, hoping to be hidden from view. He kept a close eye on the group of friends.

Then, one of the girls--Oliver thought her name was Claire, but he had never cared enough to pay attention--spotted the truck and squealed.

Oliver cursed fervently under his breath.

The girl, grinning, yelled, "Guys! Look! An ice cream truck! Oh my gosh, I would kill for some ice cream right now.... it's so hot out here."

Oliver gritted his teeth and murmured "fuck my life" in the safety of his truck.

She tugged on one guy's hand--Holden, possibly? Hayden?

"Babe, please? Let's go get some ice cream! Come on, guys!" she whined.

Oliver sighed in resignation, already knowing that this annoying girl would get her annoying friends to come over to this stupid little truck to get some fucking ice cream. "Please," Oliver pleaded, looking at the sky, "please don't do this to me right now."