Oakley. He’s next to me, hand gripped tightly in mine. His eyes are closed, those thick eyelashes of his curled against his cheekbones. His hair’s a wild mess atop of his head, the strands sticking up this way and that, and there are smudges of dirt on the side of his neck and his cheek. But, he’s never looked more beautiful. Man, this is a sight worth waking up for.
