Daniel

“My name’s Oliver. Though if you want to call me Pretty Eyes Park again, I promise I’ll still come running.”
― Charlie Adhara, The Wolf at the Door

“I see you've been speaking with the voice I hear in my head at three a.m. while paralysed with anxiety. Good, good.”
― Charlie Adhara, Cry Wolf

“What stage of love was it when another person became a habit? How quickly had the mere background hum of another person's life become such an essential fixture of the house that its absence felt like a robbery? Like their home had been gutted and he was left drifting around the remains...”
― Charlie Adhara, Cry Wolf

“I played basketball freshman year of high school. Does that count?”
Cooper laughed. “No, not at all. In fact, that’ll probably just set him off on a lecture about follow-through and commitment. Why’d you stop?”
“I got cut. I was terrible.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Park tilted his head. “Why do you look so happy about that?”
“Do I? No.” Cooper tried to school his expression, but Park squinted at him suspiciously, and eventually a grin broke free again. He snagged the front of Park’s shirt and twisted it in his fingers, suddenly unable to resist touching him. “I guess it’s just nice to know you’re not perfect at everything.”
Park seemed to think that over, perhaps looking for hidden digs or sarcasm. Eventually, almost tentatively, he said, “Well, I was really, embarrassingly bad. Can’t dribble for shit.”
Cooper tugged Park still closer and slid his free hand around Park’s waist. “Go on.”
“When my hands are above my head, I’m all thumbs. Can’t catch a thing.”
“Mmm.” Cooper pressed their bodies together and inhaled the curve of Park’s neck to his shoulder.
“I never once made a free throw.”
“Oh baby, the things you say,” Cooper groaned.”
― Charlie Adhara, The Wolf at Bay