This story is completely fiction and is for entertainment only. All characters are 18 or older. Requested by a loyal reader.
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It felt pretty good to be home alone for a little bit. I was quite exhausted from my last tour, and unfortunately, my time off began just as my girlfriend Tate McRae's newest tour started.
So while it was nice to breathe and hear my own thoughts, to try to work on new music I had never done before, I was severely missing my tall blonde love.
By Day Three of being squirreled away in her place all by my lonesome, I had been very productive but started to feel lonely. I was doing my daily video calls with Tate, but that was the majority of my human interaction.
On Day 4, I was pleasantly surprised to receive a knock on the door, though it was completely unexpected. Nobody knew I was here except Tate.
I wheeled away from the little writing desk I had set up in the living room and jogged to the door. I didn't have a reason to be fully dressed, so just pajama pants it was.
"Kamusta! [Hello]" one Olivia Rodrigo greeted me in Tagalog, the Filipino language, as I opened the door. She didn't seem surprised I was here, but she had to know Tate was on tour, right?
"Hey, Liv!" I greeted happily, just happy to see another face, let alone hers. I could definitely have opened the door to worse faces. "What brings you by?"
"Tate asked me to keep an eye on you, check in once in a while," she said as she came in and made herself at home. "You know, make sure you have plenty of food and water," the popstar teased.
'Well that's kind of you,"I laughed, used to her sense of humor after the years we've been friends. "I'm all squared away here. Just enjoying some peace and quiet, working on some new music and laying low while Tate's gone. Her, and well,, now you, are the only ones who know I'm here."
"Oh," Olivia's face fell and her deep brown eyes shot to the carpet. "If you're enjoying your solo time, I'll tell Tate you're still alive and I'll take off."
"No no," I said, sounding more hurried than I intended to as I reached out and took her hand before she could reach the front door. I got myself under control quickly. "It has been nice, but I'm starting to lose my mind just a little," I said, holding my thumb and pointer finger up just a hair's width apart.
Olivia laughed and her big bright smile came back. "Tate and I both figured you could use a friend by now, and a break. We know you too well. You'll sit at your little work station until something makes you take a break." She paused as she walked past me and further into Tate's lavish apartment and looked over her shoulder. "How much of the last three days have you spent working, Charlton?"
I just chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of my neck, not making eye contact. "Uh, a hell of a lot, I guess."
Liv turned back over and got right up in my face. "Jesus, Laroi, your eyes are red. Have you even slept much?"
I just rolled my eyes at her motherly worrying. "I'm on a killer roll right now. I'll sleep when my brain slows down," I told her.
"Nuh-uh, nope. I'm shutting your brain down now. Come here," she ordered and took my hand back just a minute after I had let her's go. She damn near dragged me to the couch, grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. She plopped down on the couch aggressively and literally pulled me down with her.
I sat on the couch next to her but she wasn't satisfied. "You're almost there. Put your head on my lap. You're taking a fucking nap," the power-hungry Filipino ordered. I hesiTated, and she grabbed my shoulder, pulling me down and making me adjust so I was laying down, staring up at her.
She smiled victoriously down at me and put her hand in my curly blond hair. "There. I get the feeling this is the most relaxed you've let yourself be since you got here, isn't it?"
I laid there, feeling Tate's lovely couch that I was damn near sinking into. Liv's soft thighs pillowing under my head definitely didn't hurt, and her head rub felt surprisingly like Tate's. "I could see myself falling asleep like this if I let myself."
Olivia hummed and let out a giggle as she turned her attention back to the TV to find something to watch. "Get at least an hour-long nap, and I'll think about letting you up, okay?"
I grumbled, but rolled onto my side to watch TV. This bitch knew how to put any man right to sleep and put on the Great British Baking Show. As I'm sure she planned, I was out in 15 minutes.
--
When I woke up, it was still light out but the sun was going down. I also wasn't in the same position I fell asleep in. Olivia's legs were replaced by two throw pillows, and I was facing the back of the couch.
I slowly pulled myself off the couch, noticing that the TV was still on, playing quietly, but Olivia was not in the room with me. I looked at the floor trying to wake up from a nap that felt like a mild coma. I had no idea how long I was out, but it had to have been hours.
I thought I heard something coming from the kitchen, so I headed that way and found quite the surprising yet domestic sight; Olivia Rodrigo in front of the stove in just ankle socks, sky blue bikini-style panties, and a t-shirt. Her hair was in a swishy ponytail, and the international star was singing to herself. I couldn't believe it took me this long to notice just how fucking good the apartment smelled.
"Liv?" I asked groggily as I stepped into the kitchen.
She looked over her shoulder at me and smiled. "Hey there, sleepy head. Have a good sleep?"
"Yeah, really good. Like, the best I've had since before the tour."
"You didn't sleep well the night before Tate left? Just thought about how much you were going to miss her right after getting back?" she asked sweetly, a little naively.
My face flushed and I felt it. "We didn't sleep a lot the night before she left..." I kept it vague on purpose, but the meaning couldn't have been clearer.
She stopped and cocked her head back a little, clearly caught off guard. "Well there's a picture," she giggled. "I bet Tate's a freak."
"Can we not talk about what your best friend and my girlfriend is like in bed?" I chuckled as I went to the fridge to find something to drink.
"Knowing you're a fellow tortured artist, I get the feeling you haven't been eating that much either," she said, skillfully changing the subject, which I was all too happy to allow.
"I could eat," I said, and as if it was listening, my stomach growled and I laughed at the impeccable timing. "Whatever you're making, it smells divine."
"Chicken fajitas," she informed me, seemingly happy to absorb my positive note. "I learned a thing or two from those Latin cuisine chefs I worked with a few times," she said proudly.
"Uh, if I can ask," I ventured, "what happened to your jeans?"
Olivia just giggled. "Tate tells me to make myself at home every time I come over, so this is kind of just my default here," she shrugged.
"Okay, so I get that, but I'm here too, though..." Did she see no problem with hanging out with her best friend's boyfriend in just her underwear? Did she not see this as crossing some kind of line?"
"I know you are, silly. You're kind of hard to miss," she said. "The more you distract me, the longer this is going to take, and the longer it is before I make us margaritas."
