More than a Game ||Oliver Wood||

{Hide and Seek}

They stood there. Looking at the ceiling. Neither one daring to turn their eyes and meet the other’s. “So, that happened,” he said. There were no visible expressions on his face. Just a vacant stare at his wooden bed frame. The girl next to him had an even less emotion in her features.

“No kidding.” It was all she could possibly let out. Her body felt exhausted by also tense enough to bring her in a state of awkwardness. The words ‘I’m in Wood’s bed’ played like a faulty cassette at the back of her mind and she couldn’t fathom out how she had been brought in this situation yet again. Her mind was disgusted by her, yelling and screaming at her for her actions. But her body was praising her, for the state of ecstasy in which she brought it.

He sneaked a peak of her face, with the corner of his eye. Tried to work out some way to speak, he couldn’t. Even in her total loss of control she had an air of superiority around her. He despised it. She always thought she was better than everyone. Worse. She always thought she was better than him. Even at staying silent.

A war, not of words, had started between them. As if the one that spoke first was at immediate loss. But he couldn’t take it anymore, and by the sound of his voice she cracked a laugh.

“What now?” he said but immediately frowned at her chuckle. “What at are you laughing at?”

“You’re so awkward.”

“Said the girl who won’t look at me in the eye.” The smirk on his face was visible even by the corner of her eyes, but she purposefully turned to him as if to prove a point. Yet the moment her eyes met his, she felt her cheeks heat up. She looked at the sweaty locks of his hair that were now glued on his forehead. She tried not to let her eyes wonder to the torso in front of her, since it stood like a hand-carved statue of a Greek god. She held the sheet in front of her as if her life depended on it. Feeling her cheeks heat up, she sat up on the bed, clearing her throat in the process.
“You’re so pathetic,” he said, letting his tongue rest against his cheek.

“Oh, so now I’m pathetic?” Her soft ironic chuckle filled the room.

“Owens, what is this?”

She turned to him yet again, with a frown. “What’s what?”

“This? What are we doing?”

“We’re using each other I guess.”

He rolled his eyes. “Using each other?”

“Yeah, why do you like me?” She said in an obvious ironic tone.

“Ha, you wish.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Do you, like me?”

“Wood, don’t flatter yourself. You’re the last person in this school I would ‘like’” Her fingers signalling the air quotes, as her eyes showed both terror and confidence. How that girl could fit it all together in a look, he could never understand. “I can barely stand you.”

“You didn’t seem to not stand me a couple of minutes ago,” he said with a smirk wider than the Cheshire Cat’s smile.

“Get your head out of your arse,” she said as she reached under the bed to grab her, now in need of ironing, dress. “Have you seen my bra?”

“The red bra?” he said. She could hear the happiness in his voice.

“Yes women can have more than one colour of a bra. I don’t expect you to know that since it’s probably the first time you’re seeing one.”

“Did you really get that idea? Or are you trying to hide the red in your cheeks?”

She let out a breath of rage. “You’re infuriating.”

“And you are flustered as fuck…” he said with an innocent smile. He reached next to him, letting his shoulder capture the attention of her eyes. “Is this the bra you’re searching for?” With the strap over his pinkie, he brought it straight into her face. “Ah see, perfect colour match,” he said as he pressed it to her cheeks. She groaned in response.

“Thanks,” she said, through her teeth. She looked at him, then back at the blanket. “Do you mind?”

“What?” he asked.

“I want to get dressed.”

“So?” He raised his eyebrow, slowly biting on his lip.

“I’m not going to get dressed, having you looking at me like that,” she said with a slightly more Oxford specific tone.

“Care to be reminded of our activities, mere minutes ago?” he said, mocking her thickened accent.

“Oxford doesn’t work on you, Mr. Scotland.”

“And bullshit doesn’t work on you… Surprisingly…”

“Turn your back.” Rolling his eyes he complied to her order, like a little kid forced to listen. He kept the corner of his eye on her, as she wore her dress again, her fingers tracing the sides of her torso. He forced his head in the other direction again, since looking at her made him dizzy. “Where did I leave my shoes?” she asked.

“You mean the heels, in which I never thought I’d see you?” He said with a devious laugh.

“Well, I guess you’d never thought you’d take them off either,” she said, making him slightly flustered. “Oh, there they are.”

“Owens.” He said, with an honest expression for the first time.

“What,” she turned at him, while stepping into her platforms.

“Let’s make a deal,” he said. His Gryffindor identity popping out, uninvited to the party.

“What? What kind of deal?” She looked at him with a frown, that suddenly turned into a more flirtatious look. “About this?” she said pointing in between them. He quickly got into his pants and stood up, to be able to talk to her, face to face. Her eyes scanned his features.

“I mean, you like this as much as I do,” he said with a smirk, leaning against the wooden pillar of his bed frame. “I know this much.”

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“Oh, Miss. Perfect, sorry for insulting you,” he said rolling his eyes once again. “But your screams earlier, said different things.”

“Now, that’s an over statement, Mr. let’s get this over with. At least you’re better in bed than you are in Quidditch.” She said with her regular look of superiority.

“So, you do admit I’m good,” he said, completely ignoring the comment about Quidditch. She knew things were serious when Wood dismissed an opportunity to talk about Quidditch. There wasn’t a second that it was not in his mind, yet she finally found one.

“You’re… Decent.”

“Oh, shut up, that was not ‘decent’,” he said with a frown.

“Fine, you’re good, is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Pretty much…”

“Melrin, I hate your guts.”

He groaned. “Same here.”

“So what’s the verdict here?” She asked with a shrug.

He let his eyes wander up and down her body, before grabbing her arm slightly, pulling her towards him, just to lock his lips with hers. “I still hate you,” he said against her lips.

“Mhm,” was all she could let out as her fingers ran deep into his brown locks. “I can’t stand you,” she said, when they pulled away.

“I can see that,” he said and then kissed her again, as if their words meant nothing.

“Wood, what are we doing,” she said, in a whisper.

“Whatever the fuck we want,” he said, letting his lips travel to her neck.

“So, what? Is this how it’s going to be?” she said in between deep breaths. “We keep doing this even though we hate each other?”

He pulled away. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

She bit her lip, leaning in, kissing him again. “Yes, when you shut up.”

“We’ll need to work on that,” he said with a chuckle. Their lips met yet again, dancing together as if they stood in a ballroom. Gently but passionately. Her hands travelled up and down his arms, leaving trails of goosebumps on him.

“I have to go back, Este’s going to be searching for me.” She said the moment his hands reached her hips once more.

He looked at her and sighed. “Fine, beat it.” He spoke.

She reached down, to tie the laces of her heels, but he stopped her. “You’re going to fall,” he said as his fingers wrapped around her ancles.

“Since when do you care about what happens to me?” She asked.

“I don’t, I just like a tough game and… you’re the only other stubborn player.” His fingers grazed her skin. With every touch the temperature in her cheeks got higher and higher. She couldn’t help it. She tried to look away from the boy in front of her, as if it would take that messed up feeling and make it go away.

“Aw so you do like me?” she said, trying to ease up the atmosphere.

“No, I like hating you,” he said, getting up.

“Guess we have that in common.” She said, giving him a slight glance. “Ew, I just agreed with Wood.”

She turned her back to him, hearing the last bits of the laugh that escaped his mouth. She reached the door, but before opening she felt the need to speak. Her eyes met his once more. “We must let no one know.” She spoke.

“Of course.”

“See you tomorrow, Wood,” she said with a slight smirk.

He laughed. “Is that a threat, Owens?”
She smirked, winking at him before closing the door behind her.

He just fell behind on his bed, looking at the ceiling, trying to decide what he was going to thing about for the night. Because his thoughts couldn’t start revolving around her. They just couldn’t.