A Hater's Gamble (BxB)

THIRTY-FIVE

While dipping his paintbrush into red paint, Miles said, "Not everything has to be perfect, Liam. It's okay if it turns out like crap."

I shrugged, relaxing in my chair. "I won't waste my time trying to find out. I think I'd rather watch you make yours."

"You're no fun," he said, fixing his attention on his ornament.

I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on the table. "I'm loads of fun," I rivaled.

Miles rose a brow, then pushed the paintbrush closer to me. "Prove it. Make a better ornament than me."

"Is this a challenge?," I mused.

"Now it is," Miles confirmed, with a smirk of his own. "And I'm winning so far."

I chuckled darkly. "Game on, prince."

••••••••••••••••••
         
                                    M I L E S

For someone who despised the concept of art, he was sure good at it. We now held our ornaments in hand as we headed towards the stairs. Mine was red with tiny white snowflakes while Liam's was green with tiny gold stars. I wondered if he'd hang it on his tree at home, or he'd simply throw it out the first chance he got.

"I definitely won this challenge, don't you think?," he asked, leading us down some steps. I could hear the screams of the fans in the stadium, meaning we were close to our seats.

"I thought we had suite seats," I said, barely realizing we were going down instead of up. "Suite seats are always on top."

Liam flashed me a grin, "You're right, however, we don't have suite seats. We're V.I.P today."

I refrained from holding onto the railing, but with the wave of nausea that came over me, I tried very hard not to fall over. "What?," I whispered.

His brows knitted together, concerned, then said, "If you don't want to sit there, we can—."

"You're not serious," I said, dead silent.

He rose his right brow slightly, "Yes, prince, I am."

Prince.

He wore a thin, reflective gold chain. Accompanied with his necklace were his two gold rings he wore on either hand. Black jeans and a black Beavers jersey. Hair golden and thick. He was every bit the shiny baseball captain that used to ridicule and terrorize me. Yet, when he talked, I wanted to fall at his feet. Oblige with whatever he said, no matter how wrong.

I was afraid,

because if he asked me to commit the most deadliest of sins right now, I'd do it without the slightest bit of hesitation.

I gulped, "Liam, why?"

V. I. P? Near the dug-out. It—

He took a treacherous step toward me, still on the stairs. My stomach summersaulted when he whispered in my ear, "Is this your way of expressing gratitude? Because I don't like it."