Oliver Loves Carson | ✔️

chapter four

"So...you kissed me," Oliver exclaimed without thinking.

Carson choked out a laugh, and Oliver wanted to slam his own head against a wall. "It's called CPR, but, um, I guess, yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

Oliver was slowly suffocating on the tension. "Yeah so, thanks for kissing me I guess." He blurted out, immediately wanting to duct tape his mouth shut. Fuck. "I mean, t-thanks for saving my life." He corrected, pausing for a second before sputtering out, "That sounds really pathetic because I'm literally breathing because of you," And because you kissed me, "but I really don't know what else to say but 'thanks,' so um.... thanks?" Oliver looked anywhere except for Carson's beautiful eyes.

To his surprise, Carson let out a short laugh. "Don't worry about it. It's what any decent person would do--I couldn't let you just drown."

Clearly, Oliver was not a decent person.

The room was basked in silence, and the only sound that prevailed was the rustling of the hospital outside the room and the cicadas buzzing outside. Oliver bit his lip, running through the thoughts in his head and deeming them all ridiculous and inappropriate. With the way he was acting, he had no idea how he had managed to stay in the closet for this long.

Once the silence became too much, Oliver spoke up. "It's a nice day outside, isn't it?" he said tentatively, awkwardly.

"It's nighttime." Carson tilted his head to the side, studying Oliver before finally saying, "Are you nervous?"

Oliver let out a scoff, but it sounded breathy and anxious to even his own ears. "No. Why would I be nervous?"

Carson shrugged, his eyes drifting to the curtains. "You just seem anxious, that's all." His eyes then snapped to meet Oliver's, and Oliver held his breath. "Which is weird, in my opinion, because I've seen you talk to other people--that girl, for instance--and you seem fine. You seem more than fine actually, you practically dominate the conversation with your..." Carson trailed off, waving his hands in the air. "....with your you-ness. The whole 'calm and detached' thing you've got going on."

"Are you stalking me?" Oliver muttered under his breath all of a sudden, not meaning it to be heard.

Carson laughed loudly. "Stalking you? No. I mean you saw me out there." He gestured to the door. "I didn't even know your last name. No, I wasn't stalking you." He pursed his lips. "It's just--well, everyone on the swim team was talking about you after you got wheeled away. They didn't say much, just how-"

"-much of an asshole I am?" Oliver offered weakly. "You have to admit, people are surprisingly accurate with their descriptions."

Carson's gaze softened as he leaned in, bracing his elbows on his thighs. "You're not an asshole," he said gently.

Oliver scoffed and found the floor to be more interesting than looking up. "I am an asshole, just not to you."

Carson tilted his head to the side. "Why?" he asked.

Oliver froze. He had said too much, hadn't he? Fucking hell, he always says too much. He's too blunt and too willing and never keeps his fucking mouth shut. "There's no reason to hate you," he said--it was the truth, just not the full one. "You just don't piss me off. Good thing too, I've reached my status quo of idiots for the day."

Carson smiled, showing no teeth but instead showcasing his dimples. Why can't there be anything wrong with him? Oliver thought. Why did he have to be so perfect?

"Thanks," Carson said.

More silence ensued, but this time, Carson broke it. "So, did anyone visit?" he asked.