I feel a fire. A burning.
I grit my teeth pushing through it. An effort that feels twice as hard and a body that feels three times too heavy. But I welcome the burn with open arms. I embrace the pain because it's distracting; which is reward enough.
I'm not following any routine or pace, I'm just running. Fast. Away from everything. I'm not a runner—not by a long shot. The only sport I'm half decent at is swimming, obviously. But I'm still band from the pool so this feels like my only option.
When my emotions feel like too much, I've learnt that making your body hurt is a pretty good distraction. A pain simpler to focus on.
A student runs past me, her looking a lot less red then I can only imagine mine would look like. She looks graceful, each stride effortless and breathing measured. She's wearing a dark grey top.
Gray.
Oliver's boxers were gray.
My face burns, and I'm pretty sure it isn't from my lack of fitness this time.
I run harder.
My breathing is loud now, loud enough that I can hear it over my music. Perspiration between my shoulder blades and curls of hair sticking to my damp forehead. My thigh muscle won't quit shaking and it's starting to bug me, but I keep on running.
I look up to the sky, avoiding looking at the grey top girl as she runs past me. The sky is blue.
Blue, like Oliver's eyes.
Oh fuck.
I close my eyes. My legs are on fire, my chest burning, but it is my mind that is crippling me the most.
I run harder, my distraction not efficient enough.
Not distracting enough.
I look at my feet. At the pavement of the road below my feet. The sound of my feet hitting the road. White lines guiding the road.
White.
My sheets are white...
Sheets that had a boy in them last night and this morning.
My mind flashes back to this morning...
The bed's too small. The bed's too small and Oliver's too close. The bed's too small, Olivers too close, and I'm painfully hard right now.
I tighten my jaw, embarrassed. It's not my fault, I try to reassure myself.
He's just... he's breathing on my collar. Hot breathe. And he's just touching my skin. And he's topless.
He's just a really pretty boy that is half-naked in my bed.
I bite my lip. Hard.
A pretty boy in my bed that's also my swimming captain. My biggest rival. My enemy.
And he's in MY bed.
It's innocent enough, he's not even trying, not even doing anything. But I'm horny and I can't remember the last time I... yeah...
And just thinking about that now makes me want to shove a pillow over my face. But I can't, because Oliver is asleep very close to me, and if I move he is sure to wake up.
Did I mention he's topless? Cause he is.
The sheet hugs around his hip giving a generous view of his toned chest well established from countless hours of swimming. Years of it has made his body strong, primed for swimming. His hair is tousled, curly strands falling across his forehead. His pink lips parted slightly and light freckles dusted across his nose and the tops of his cheeks.
His freckles are absolutely adorable.
I fucking hate them.
There's soft yellow rays of light shining through my crappy curtains that do nothing to hide the light. It's early, I can tell from how quiet the hall is and how cold it is. It's always freezing in the mornings here. The hall's heating is shit and they are too cheap to fix it.
Oliver shifts his body, further into me, seeking further warmth. But I'm trapped in between the wall and him. No escape.
I trip. I'm not paying attention to my step and I tripped over a stone and face-planted onto the ground. I've grazed my hands and knees on the road, cursing as I stumble back to my feet. The grazes burn, a further heat to the fire. And I want nothing more than to fall back into bed with food magically appearing in my hand.
But I can't stop running.
Because fire in my legs, the burning of my chest, the blistering of my knees and hands—aren't distraction enough from the true fire.
He was warm, really warm. Skin on fire. Or maybe that's just mine? Either way, it's hot in here.
I'm feeling hot, Oliver is hot—we're all hot in here. And even asleep he made my heart stutter. I'm trapped in an embrace that is scarily good.
Suddenly the bed is too big. It's too big and he's not close enough. It's too big, he's not close enough and I'm so turned on. Feeling real needy right now.
If Oliver were awake, would he be this close to me voluntarily? Is it wrong for him to be so close to me when he doesn't really know it? Would it disturb him?
I let out a quiet puff of breath. Why the fuck am I questing this, he's the one who has hogged up the bed space. He's the one that has me pushed up against the wall. He's the one who's shifting his body further into me and hand is currently slipping under the rim of my shirt.
His skin is hot. So much of it is exposed, and not enough. His eyes are closed, he mumbles incoherent words under his breath. His hand inches towards the skin under my shirt, fingers brushing my rib cage. I bite my lip containing any sound threatening to come out.
I am completely flustered. Prisoner to his touch. His hand drags down my chest, dangerously low. I suck in an uneven breath.
He's pushing it.
He's pushing it and he doesn't even know it.
His hand curls around my waist, tugging me closer to him. Engulfing me further in his body. He lets out a huff of air and tries to pull me closer, but there's no more space between us.
Tired and frustrated I grind my teeth in annoyance. I'm not a cuddlier.
No way in hell.
So why am I not pushing him off of me?
Technically, I'm not hugging him back. I'm just enduring it. Putting up with it. I don't like it or anything...
But then he does something that is too much—makes enduring it too hard.
His palm spams along my chest, digits curling into my skin almost possessively.
I suck in a sharp breath. The contacts too much skin on skin, too possessive, too hot.
Oliver bolts upright. Alert and rigid at my sharp intake.
It takes a second before he notices the position we are in... Until he noticed our proximity and where his hand is.
He lets out a surprised throaty sound from the back of his throat and jolts back, the force of his movement causing him to fall off the side of my bed and onto the ground with a loud thud.
I have to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing.
He swears lowly under his breath, getting to his feet steadily. His eyes flick to me, observing the slither of the skin of my stomach exposed, from his hand bunching it up.
He says fuck under his breath before looking up at the roof briefly. "I didn't mean to.. I thought It was.. " he dies off, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
I try not to find it as endearing as I do.
A car honks and I jolt in fright, drawing myself back to the present. Jesus Christ. I stumble to the side of the road letting the car pass. My heart is racing and my body is alert. This is why I don't run, I'm a fucking mess of a runner. I zone into my own world that I quickly become accident-prone and a walking hazard.
Anyways, where was I? Oh yeah, a flustered Oliver fell out of my bed...
I try not to look, but his body, him, he's easy on the eyes. A sight for sore eyes. But he's also painful to look at. An unobtainable beauty that I could never reach, and I hate him sometimes for it. I divert my eyes to look anywhere but him, lips pursed in annoyance.
"You should leave," I say, voice cold, a total contrast to the current temperature of my body.
I don't have to look to know he is frowning. "Right," he says, voice empty as he shuffles around my room trying to find his clothes.
Leave before I do something absurd, like tell you to stay.
When I get back to my dorm, I'm red-faced, sweaty and both my knees and hands have grazes on them, my knees getting the brunt of it though. Bloods dripping down making a mess, It looks worse then it. Stings like a bitch though every time I step.
Andy in the hall's common room when he see's me. I go to the island bench and slump down wincing as I go, my body a heap of sore muscles and pain.
He shakes his head in disappointment. "Fuck, what did you do to yourself."
I walk past him straight to the chair at the island table. "I went for a run."
Andy snickers and I shoot him a glare.
He puts his hands up in surrender. "My bad, I didn't realise you were a runner."
"I'm not," I grumble.
The sun is out now, but everyone must of had a pretty big night because the common room is still pretty empty. I'm glad though, too many people around make me feel suffocated.
"You should sort your knees out, the are going to get blood everywhere."
I huff laying my head down on the bench, my lack of sleep catching up on me.
"What you cooking?" I say, propping my head on my hands in intrigue and as the smell of something good whiffs past my nose.
"Eggs," Andy hums.
He serves the scrabbled on on two plates and pushes one towards me. I give him a grateful grin and dig in, not realising how hungry I am until I start eating.
Jess walks into the kitchen along with Ryan and Tiffany.
"Guys, I saw Oliver sneaking out this morning... wearing the same clothing as last night."
Andy glances at me, giving a suspicious look as he eats his food.
Ryan looks intrigued, Tiffany too.
"Did our captain go for a booty call last night?"
Jess shrugs. "Looked liked it."
"Lucky bitch." Tiffany mutters under her breath.
I stuff more food in my mouth.
"Oliver doesn't seem the type to do booty calls," snorts Ryan. "Even if he did.. it would be the person going to his, not the other way around."
Jess shrugs. "Maybe he likes this person?"
"Or maybe he just stayed the night in someones dorm because he can," I grumble.
Ryan and Tiffany give me a weird. "Righttt.. cause our shitty dorms are prime comfort compared to his fancy flat with his own room with probably a king size bed."
"He has a king size bed?"
Tiffany shrugs, grinning. "Don't know, but would't I love to find out."
My brows crumple, I rub my chest where a tight feeling has formed.
"Calm down tiger," Andy scoffs, turning the tap on to wash his dishes. "I'm pretty sure Olivers got his eyes set on someone."
I choke on my food. Jess pats my back and I take a big gulp of the water Andy offers me. After I am not dying anymore, I manage to get the words out, "who do you reckon Oliver has his eye on?"
Ryan steals a bit of my toast, but I barely noticed it. "It's probably that guy who was flirting with him hardcore at training the other day." He said casually while chewing on my food.
What guy?
I rub my chest again. What is up with my chest today?
Jess hums in agreement. "Right, the exchange student from England. He was quick in the water, not Oliver quick, but quick."
I give my chest a few short hits, maybe it's sore from my run?
"God, he was soo hot though. And don't even get me started on his accent," Tiffany practically drools. "I wouldn't blame Oliver if he decided to take him up on that date offer."
Date?
Thats it. I stand up, drawing everyones attention, but I'm not focused on that.
"Where you going?" Andy calls out, cause I'm already halfway to the door.
"To get rid of my fucking pool ban and get back into the water." I call over my shoulder.
I distantly hear Ryan call out, "Ha! Good luck with that!"
Good luck. pfff. I don't need luck.
What I do need though: is to know who the fuck this new guy is?
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Author note: I've written this chapter enough times that it is starting to become painful. I'm sick of it now lol. But I don't like to release a chapter until I am semi happy with it. But good news is I'm halfway through the next chapter.
It was my birthday the other day. I had a massive celebration and I feel as if I have aged just trying to run it. It was chaotic. I would prefer a more mellow thing, but I'm a twin and my twin wanted to do that so...
Anyway appreciate your patience, hope you are all good and reading provides the joy and escape you are after. Love ya.
Vote if you want the next chapter ❤️