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"AND I SCREAM FROM THE TOP OF MY LUNGS, 'WHAT'S GOING ON!'" -What's Up?, 4 Non-Blondes
"THIS IS PAINFUL TO WATCH," Andre commented to Oliver, snapping him out of his daze as he realised he had been staring at the red-haired girl while she spoke animatedly at the bar with a complete stranger. Forcing a chuckle, the Keeper nodded in agreement before redirecting his gaze to his half-filled cup. "What are they even betting for? The single room was it?"
"Yeah, but secretly I think they just don't want to share a room with me," Oliver joked, unable to stop himself from looking back toward the bar once again to see that she was still giving the unknown man her brightest smile. It stirred an emotion inside him that he decided he didn't altogether like.
He wasn't jealous of course - Oliver hardly knew Adore and he had a girlfriend of his own. But there was something in the way she spoke to this man, the way her grin stretched across her face and how crinkles developed next to her eyes from how hard she smiled. There was something in the way that she spoke freely without reservation, even if the man was someone she had never met and was even a muggle, that made him feel envious nonetheless. He wished that she had been so open around him, rather than reserved and frankly peeved in his presence.
Oliver Wood wondered if Adore Kingsley knew how much she frustrated him. Even now, when they were on fairly good speaking terms, it only proved to annoy him even further. She had taken an instant spite to him since his arrival, which he had initially blamed on her attitude but when he noticed it was an attitude she only held toward him it began to bother him. Many nights Oliver had spent sleepless, mulling over their every interaction as he tried to trace it back to a single moment that could have made her so uncomfortable around him. He had blamed himself, blamed her and even wondered if his girlfriend had somehow cast a spell that would avert other women's gaze from him. That's how paranoid he was.
And the more she bothered him, the more he bothered himself for caring at all. It was only now, while Oliver sat among his victorious team celebrating their win earlier that evening that he realised why he was truly so affected. Oliver wanted Adore to like him. For a man that didn't often care about other's opinions of him, he did indeed care whether or not she spoke to him, whether or not she liked him.
Across the other side of the bar, Padraig was trying and failing miserably to 'score', as he had so politely put it. But it seemed that every woman in Dorset saw his true intentions that night, as he was often rejected before even getting a word out. It didn't deter him though, as he simply moved on to the next one each time.
"I bet you a fiver he loses this one in the first 60 seconds," Oliver offered to Andre, smirking playfully as he watched Padraig approach a pretty brunette in a little black dress.
"No chance, pal," Andre grinned in return, shaking his hand in acceptance of the bet. "That girl has been eyeing him up for the last five minutes, I reckon she wants him even more than he wants her."
