Synchronised Motion (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 18

He leans closer now, close enough that his breath brushes my nose as he stares me down. "But if you take it... know the consequences," He states, voice low and angry. He turns and stalks off.

Cool and level-headed Oliver pissed.

I'm hit with the reality I was hiding from myself. He's right, I did mark him. I marked him right where it would be seen, impossible for people to not see, I made it obvious. Visible.

What the fuck was I thinking? It wasn't just a few innocent marks, but almost possessive marks. Like I was sending a message to people.

I rake a hand through my hair, questioning why I took it that far. Why seeing everyone look at the hickeys on with flickers of jealousy in their eyes at their all-adored captain, makes me not mad.

Maybe I wanted people to see it? To know my lips had him? Maybe I wanting a piece of him to myself? He's so perfect, so good, maybe I wanted some of that for myself? Some of his sunshine and warmth for me.

I'm conflicted, confused... Because this feeling that I feel for him, about him, I have called it hate... I think it's a little off.

Hate isn't supposed to make you feel gooey inside. Hate isn't supposed to make your cheeks red and awaken every nerve in your body. Hate isn't supposed to make you give them possessive hickeys over their body.

Hate doesn't feel like this, I should know, I feel full hate towards Josh. And this 'hate' I feel for Oliver, is a very very different feeling.

Croissant is all up on Oliver, chatting to him and playfully nudging him as soon as he is at the pool. A not-so-nice feeling stirs in my stomach. But a fraction of that feeling is eased, because while Croissant may be talking and being all friendly with him, I'm the one who had my tongue in his mouth and teeth to his lips. The one who has his love bites on his skin.

Yep, I think I need to re-check the dictionary definition of hate, because I'm pretty sure this feeling I hold towards Oliver, it ain't hate.

At least not anymore.

My mind's a little hazy as I make my way back to the pool. I take my cap off and ruffle my hair a bit before fixing it. Oliver's words are going through my head as I stare at the water, lost in thought.

You want your mark on me? Stake your claim? Fine. Take it. Have it. But if you take it... know the consequences.

My brows furrow. What's the consequences?

The rest of the swim session goes as usual. I'm breathing a little harder than normal, feeling a little more tired, and body feeling heavier than usual.

The time for the timed sprints comes too soon, and Coach gets us all out of the water and is going to race us in pairs.

My mind is still wrapped up in Oliver's words, trying to decipher what these consequences mean. But what I did get from that talk is that Oliver doesn't want me to avoid looking at him.

And if he wants me to look at him, oh I'll look at him. And I do, taking in all the damage I did.

The junction between his neck and shoulder has a splotchy red near the purple spot. There's another one under the corner of his defined jaw, light enough that you only see it if you are looking hard. Another two along his collar and one on his smooth chest. My stomach tightens at the memory of how he got them. What sounds he made when I gave them to him.

Oliver squirms a little under my gaze, one would only notice if paying close attention, which I am. Is... his cheeks a little redder?

But then Croissant steals his attention and I clench my fists, diverting my gaze back to Coach.