A story of two enemies attached and captivated by lust and value.
"You act like you can't stand me...But the moment I get my hands on you, you're like putty."
18-year-old Addison Westbrook swears up and down that he hates Oliver Beckett. Even with...
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By the time they arrived at Brandon's house, the sun had already set, and Addison already missed his bed. The drive was completely quiet, on the outside, but if anyone could hear the thoughts blaring in Addison's brain, they'd need earplugs to drown out the obnoxious chaos.
Maybe Oliver just knew him, or maybe he was psychic, but he sensed something was up. "Are you okay? You seem stressed?"
God, I'm always finding something to stress about, aren't I?
I got into college like I wanted, but now I'm ruining Oliver's mood with my problems. Problems that I shouldn't even have.
Nothing is enough for me.
Why is nothing ever enough for me?
Gabe's words were stuck in his mind, and he didn't know how to get them out.
He was leaving everything behind. And for what? Extra years in school that don't actually guarantee success.
His parents didn't go to college and they turned out perfectly fine.
Maybe he should keep the family "tradition" going and stay with them. He could be with Gabe and his parents...but he couldn't be with Oliver.
"Addison." Oliver waves in front of his face with a grin.
The boy snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Oliver, examining the boy that he so luckily could call his boyfriend.
He couldn't do that to Oliver, he couldn't suddenly abandon him because he's too much of a coward to handle change.
That wouldn't be fair.
"Yeah, I'm okay. I just want to hurry this up."
Oliver sighed, "I shouldn't have made you come out."
"You didn't. I was the one that said yes to them in the first place. Let's just go." Addison went to open the car door but got stopped by Oliver holding on to his hand. "What?"
"Come here." He said softly, tugging him his way. Oliver halted right in front of his face and smiled, before moving in closer and connecting their lips.
The feeling of Oliver's teeth grazing his bottom lip drew him in further as he slid his hand into the boy's hair.
A synchronized flow of reassurance and comfort was the only way Addison could explain the kiss. It was the only way he could explain any of Oliver's kisses or gentle touches.
That's what he felt with him at all times.
He'd grown attached.
He'd been attached, but now he had no second thoughts about it. This was the one attachment he willingly grew and one that he'd grow a million times again.
