“Don’t die. (Lol)”

- njhpiper

I close my eyes. My fingers are clasped in his as Oliver Carlson is kissing my neck.

Oliver presses his soft lips on my skin and kisses down from my neck to my collarbone to my shoulder, and back comes up, kissing my jaw. Then he pulls back. I breathe out.

“Are you alive?” Oliver asks.

I open my eyes and glare at him. “What?”

Oliver nods. “I was just checking.”

I open my mouth to give him a piece of my mind, while Oliver sees it as an opportunity to kiss me on the tip of my nose.

I shut down immediately.

“So,” Oliver says as he kisses on my throat. “What are the chords?” he asks casually as if he isn’t just pressing his lips on my skin, kissing me, while I’m fighting to breathe because my heart is going to give out.

I gulp down. What are the chords? That is my question.

I have been playing guitar since I was thirteen. Then one day, Oliver Carlson starts kissing me. I forget everything. Too bad, Gwen. Too bad.

You are so gone.

“I remember. There’s one called...” I trail off as I feel Oliver moving down to the base of my throat.

Oliver. Oliver. Oliver.

Wait, that’s not the names of the chords.

“Yes,” Oliver says as he pauses. “You can’t even name one?”

Oliver’s eyes are dark and dilated, almost like he is drugged. He looks down and kisses the hollow of my throat and then moves down to my beauty bone.

Goosebumps are breaking out in my skin. I don’t know how I’m still alive. It’s the question of the century.

“It’s called... it’s called...” I pant. I look down at Oliver, who’s resting his chin on my shoulder. Our noses almost brush.

I can feel the hair on the end of my neck standing up.

Oliver’s lip twitches. He closes his eyes, pulling me even closer, if possible. Then I feel him shaking.

He’s not shaking, he’s vibrating. He buries his face in my shoulder and vibrates as he laughs.

Oliver Carlson is laughing. He is laughing.

I shiver as Oliver pulls back and shakes his head. I want to record his laughter and play it over and over again. Call me crazy, I don’t care.

Oliver looks... he looks like all my dreams come true. He looks like the most beautiful man on earth as he laughs his heart out.

Wait a second.

Oliver is laughing at me.

Me.

What the hell.

“You forgot all of them,” Oliver says. He even wipes his eyes as if to wipe his fake tears. He is grinning now, from ear to ear.

I exhale and inhale to calm myself. I’m so warm that I feel like I have a fever.

“I know them,” I say. “I know all of them!” I grab the collar of his shirt.

Oliver stops smiling. His eyes get a little darker.

“Prove it,” Oliver says, almost like he’s throwing me a challenge. “Prove it to me, Gwen.”

One of his hands wraps around my waist, drawing me closer.

I promise myself I will teach him all the chords that ever existed in the world.

“I will,” I smile smugly as I lean closer. I can finally remember the chords.

I place my hands on his shoulder. “There are five basic major chords you can learn first.”

I run my fingers through Oliver’s hair. His hair is smooth and soft. My fingers glides through his strands.

“Number one, that you need to learn is—” I lean closer, our noses brushing, but then I move sideways. This way I’m closer to his cheeks.

“C major.” I kiss his cheekbone as my fingertips brush his hair.

Oliver shudders.

Mhm, now he will never forget C major ever again.

I move down to his jaw. That jawline. I run one of my fingers down his jaw, taking my time, because why wouldn’t I?

Oliver isn’t breathing. That is really good. It’s important while learning chords.

“Then,” my lips move down underneath his jaw, “after you get C major right...”

I kiss the side of his neck. “You need to learn A major.”

Oliver makes a sound. That convinces me that I am a really good teacher.

“Exactly like that,” I say as I kiss where his neck meets his shoulder.

“How many chords are there?” Oliver asks, almost breathless. I look up at him.

“Why? You are not enjoying the lesson?” I ask, raising one of my eyebrows, casually.

“I-I want to get to the last one,” Oliver says, breathing hard.

I smirk. “That will take some time, Oliver.”

Oliver squeezes my hand. I swallow.

I take my hand out of his hold and grab the collar of his shirt. A little sliver of his chest is all I can see.

That’s not good. It’s not ideal for guitar learning.

“You see, while you are learning to play the chords,” I say as I open the first button, “you will want them to be clean. So use the very tips of your fingers.”

I touch him with my fingertips. “Like this.”

“I—” Oliver tries to speak.

I lean down and kiss him on the base of his throat.

“I know,” I say as I open another button right underneath that one.

“These chords are so important,” I say, shaking my head as the button pops. I can hear Oliver’s heartbeats.

“So important that once you learn them,” I look up at him, “you’ll never forget them ever again.”

Oliver stares at me, his hair falling messily on his head, his eyes fixated on my face. He looks down at my fingers on his shirt. Then he says, “That’s for sure.”

I smile. “The next chord is G major,” I say, kissing right where I opened the button. I lean back, opening another one. “And the next one is..”

I am going to kiss him there but Oliver grabs my wrists.

“That’s it,” Oliver says darkly.

“What? I said there are five major chords,” I say.

“What comes after G?” he asks. He is breathing like he ran a marathon.

“E major,” I say. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

Oliver stares at me for a second or two. “That’s enough.”

“No, that’s not—”

“Kiss me. Right now,” Oliver says.

I sit up straighter and stare at him. He is struggling to breathe as he leans towards me.

I stare at him as the remnants of the words still play in my ear.

“Right now,” Oliver emphasizes as he rests his forehead on mine.

“I was doing that,” I say softly, shuddering a little.

“Yes,” Oliver says.

“So where do you want me to kiss you?” I look down, smiling devilishly.

“Gwen,” Oliver warns.

My eyes meet Oliver’s eyes.

“You know damn well where,” Oliver says.

Hmm, Oliver Carlson sounds hot when he curses.

“Not really.” I shrug.

Oliver places his palms on my cheeks. I put my hands on his chest for support.

“I will show you.”

Then Oliver presses his lips on mine.

I sigh.

This is happening. It’s really happening.

Oliver kisses me as if he doesn’t kiss me now, he will lose me forever. His lips are so soft, and they know exactly what to do. I shudder, running my fingers through his hair as he kisses me.

Kissing Oliver is like breathing. Once you breathe in, you know you are going to need it forever. It feels like breathing in a lungful of fresh air, appreciating that you are alive. If you can’t breathe for a while, that will be the end of it. Kissing him feels like watching stars twinkle in the night sky, bright and beautiful. Kissing him feels like the first breeze of summer brushing your skin, making you happy.

I am not only kissing him. I am living him. I am breathing him.

Oliver Carlson isn’t only kissing me. He is imprinting himself in my soul with every little press of his lips on mine.

As we pull back, I have to close my eyes as the remnants of the moment still live inside of me. With my heart beating fast and my breaths irregular, I press my forehead on his. We stay like that for a little moment, a moment that feels invaluable. Neither of us wants to end it.

When I open my eyes, I find Oliver gazing at me.

But you know that if you want something for a long long time, a little bit of it never feels enough. Looking at him, being just kissed by him, feels like enough, but at the same time, it doesn’t. I only kissed him once, but it feels like I am already missing a part of me.

I touch his cheek and press my lips on his this time. I can feel Oliver smiling against my lips. He kisses me back.

But I am Gwen Bradburry and I have other plans.

Oliver makes a sound of surprise as I turn our kiss into a French kiss. As I’m about to take control, Oliver thinks it’s his turn.

It’s so not.

We fight as we kiss, and when I am telling you this, you have to realize it’s a fact: Oliver Carlson, in his lifetime, is never kissing anyone else ever again. Ever again.

Only me. He’s only mine.

We finally pull back. I have to breathe hard to fill up my lungs so I don’t die.

“This—” Oliver says in between his breaths.

“This will be your last first kiss,” Oliver states.

Oh. So, I am not the only one, huh?

“Is that so?” I say as I draw small circles on his chest. I look at my handiwork.

Oliver is sitting there with his hair all mussed by my own fingers, his lips all pink and swollen from the kissing. He has a pink line over his face, probably a flush. Three of his shirt buttons are open, showing off his chest.

I did a pretty good job, didn’t I?

I’m staring at Oliver smugly. Oliver is staring at me as well.

Do I look somewhat the same? Probably. I feel warm and dizzy. My body temperature is high. My cheek feels hot like it’s on fire, so I’m probably all red. I must be blushing like crazy.

“I think I’ll need a few more guitar lessons,” Oliver says, sitting up straighter, closer to me.

“Then we have to set up a schedule,” I state casually.

Oliver shakes his head. He exhales and looks down at my dress.

Placing his forehead on my shoulder, he mumbles, “This blue dress.”

“What about it?” I ask.

Oliver glances at me. He doesn’t speak. He takes his time gazing at my face.

“What?” I say. “Come on, tell me.” I poke on his chest.

“Gwen,” Oliver says.

“Yeah.”

Oliver takes a deep breath and says, “I need to ask you—”

The door of the room flies open at that moment. Oliver pauses. We turn around and look behind.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—why do I always do this! Carry on, please. Carry on!”

It’s the birthday boy himself. Owen Carlson stands on the doorstep, holding the doorknob, wobbling on his feet.

“I swear to God, I thought it was my room. I’m so sorry!” Owen says. He turns around and bumps into the doorframe.

Oliver and I look at each other for a brief second before glancing back at him again. He gives us a thumbs up before bumping into the doorframe once again as he exits, leaving the door open.

As we stare at the emptiness, I hear him say, “Life’s good. I’m 18! YOLO!”

Then there sounds another big thud. Owen probably fell on the floor.

I look at Oliver. He is pressing his eyes shut. He touches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

“I think he fell on the floor,” I state.

Oliver opens his eyes. He runs his hand through his hair. He stares ahead of him, his eyes unfocused as if he is thinking about something.

We untangle ourselves. I stand aside as Oliver starts buttoning up his shirt. Then he gets up as well.

I say, “We need to check on him.”

Oliver nods at me and picks up a tissue from the box on his bedside table.

He hands it to me.

I might look like a mess. So does he.

“Your hair,” I point out. Stepping forward, I run my fingers through it, fixing it as much as possible.

Then I step back, examining. Now, it looks fine.

I head for the washroom. My lipstick is a mess, so I fix that up. My hair is also a bit messy. I don’t know when Oliver did that. I didn’t even realize it.

As I step out, I find Oliver waiting for me. We get out of his room and not surprisingly, find Owen sitting on the floor, not far from Oliver’s room.

Owen looks up at us. “We meet again!” he says cheerfully.

Neither Oliver nor I appreciate his humor.

“How much did you drink?” I pose the question.

Owen holds up his index finger. “It’s my birthday.”

“Fine then. Why are you sitting on the floor?” I say.

“I have the same question,” Owen says as if he doesn’t understand what’s going on.

Placing his hands on the wall for support, Owen tries to stand up but almost trips again.

He looks at us. “I can make it, okay? Why did you guys even come out?”

He drags himself towards his room.

I sigh and look at Oliver, who is crossing his arms over his chest, glaring down at his brother. So far, he has managed not to utter a single word.

Just on cue, Owen almost bashes his face on the floor. But he catches himself and announces, “I am good. I am good.”

He sits up again and reaches his doorknob, finally. Squeezing it, he opens the door and slumps down on the floor, with half of his body inside his room and his legs out in the hallway.

“I’m in my room. You guys can go now,” Owen says, looking up at us.

I don’t know what to say so I look at Oliver.

“Give me a hand here,” Oliver says to me, before walking forward and grabbing Owen’s arm.

“What are you—” Owen starts.

I take Owen’s other side, as we push him up together.

“I told you to go away, but—” Owen starts.

“Shut up,” Oliver snaps.

Owen shuts his mouth. Then he pouts. Together, we land Owen on his bed.

“Good job, kiddos. Now go back and carry on with smooching,” Owen says and waves as if dismissing us.

Oliver is glaring down at him with his hands on his hips.

“What is going on?” Oliver asks.

Owen opens one of his eyes and says, “You are scolding me!”

Nobody would guess Owen is the older one here.

“What is this madness?” Oliver says again. “Are you addicted?”

“It’s my birthday! Stop yelling at me,” Owen says groaning.

“Then start answering my questions,” Oliver snaps.

Owen this time opens both of his eyes and looks at Oliver. “It’s a wonder you ask,” Owen says softly.

Oliver blinks. He looks away.

I don’t know if I should stay here. I look from Oliver to Owen.

After a moment, Owen says, “I am not addicted. It helps to forget, you know.”

Oliver exhales. “It’s not going to solve anything.”

“Yeah, I know,” Owen says, laughing a little, almost sadly.

Oliver turns around as if to leave the room. When he is in the doorway, Owen speaks.

“I didn’t kiss Scarlett.”

*****