Chapter 11 - Oliver

17 YEARS OLD

E ver since I can remember, Hunter and I have been best friends.

We used to do everything together. Yet somewhere along the way, we drifted apart just a bit. I think it's because he started dating every girl in sight, getting tired of them quickly, and then disposing of them as if they were underwear. Now, all we have left is the nights he comes into my room, slipping into my bed uninvited since he knows I could never tell him no.

Don't get me wrong, he's still affectionate, but he has toned it down a notch since Dad told him not to sleep in my room anymore. It's like he knows Dad doesn't approve of the way he was holding my hand and kissing my cheek, and I guess from an outsider's perspective, it looks odd. But to me, it was everything. Then again, I live and breathe for Hunter.

When he kissed me last night, I was stunned. Stunned that he came into my room and initiated it. I expected him to run for the hills right after, but he stayed in bed. After I brought up that he could be gay, he turned over and ignored me. It hurt my feelings a little, the way he shut me out. Then I pushed it deep down and spooned him—and he let me. He held my hand and placed it over his heart. He wasn't in my bed in the morning though, which kinda stung.

Imagine my surprise when he asked me to play driveway hockey with him, like in the old days. In hindsight, it sounded cooler than it actually was. Now I'm roasting in this goalie gear he made me wear, in the middle of summer by the way. I can feel myself nearing heat exhaustion, but since I'd do anything for him, I just breathe through my suffering.

Hunter shoots the puck towards the net, and I catch it with my glove. I smirk from behind my helmet, and he rolls his eyes. He's always told me I would've been great at hockey if I had just given it a chance. And maybe he's right, at least for the goaltender position.

Although he doesn't understand that my heart just isn't into sports the way his is. No, art is my passion. Creating is what I love to do. Drawing him has become my latest obsession, one that he just caught onto. I should've been embarrassed, but the way he put me in his lap to look at the sketches only made me feel warm and fuzzy. He loved them. So he kept one.

Another puck comes my way, and I dive for it, but he's too fast with his toe, drag, release. It goes into the left high slot, and I groan, lying on the concrete. I can hear him laughing—more like cackling—though I don't lift my head to look.

He's such a little asshole sometimes, but he's my asshole.

"Are you already done?" I can hear the smirk in his voice, so I turn my head slightly and narrow my eyes at him. "That was quick, Ollie."

I put my gloves on the ground and try to push myself up, but my head starts swimming. Yep, it's the fucking heat. I don't even feel myself sweating anymore, except I'm so hot I start trying to yank off all my gear. Falling forward, I rest my helmet on the ground, staring down at it.

"Hey?" Hunter asks, concern lacing his voice now. "You good?"

My head continues to spin, and I try to nod, but it just won't come.

"Baby?" My stomach flutters at the small word he's never called me before. Why is he calling me that? "Oliver," he says sternly.

"It's—" I shake my head. " Really hot."

"Oh my God," Hunter says exasperatedly. "Oh my fucking God, okay."

He begins to rip off my gear, piece by piece, and I just stay still for him. When I'm lying there in my clothes, he turns me on to my back. He brings me ice, pressing it to my forehead and putting it under me against the nape of my neck. It takes a while before I cool down, but once my body temperature adjusts, I sit up.

I search his eyes and he narrows his. "You called me…" I whisper. "Baby."

Hunter's cheeks flush even more, and I can tell it's not from the heat. "So what?" He shrugs.

"Why?" I ask him cautiously. I don't want to assume, considering it already feels like it's all in my head. He has a fucking girlfriend. Not that she means anything to him. "Hunt?"

"Blue."

"Hunter," I growl.

"I don't know, okay?" He runs a hand down his face. "I don't know why I said it." His voice cracks, and I smile.

"Maybe you want me to be." I look him directly in the eyes, finding my courage. "Maybe I want to be."

"Yeah?" he asks, a small smile making an appearance.

"But only if you want it too."

Hunter looks down at me, covered in sweat, but leans in to kiss my cheek anyway. I almost cringe at the feeling of my sweaty skin against his lips, feeling self-conscious, but he just smiles when he pulls back.

I grin, and his smile widens.

And my heart flutters in my chest all over again.