Chapter 15 - Oliver

H unter and I have been spending more time together than we used to. It's no longer limited to sleeping together, seeing as now we're hanging out in the light of day. Our parents haven't said anything about it, and they must be happy because they haven't even looked at us in a weird way. I know it's a bit odd, considering we haven't made an effort in a while, but things have changed. A lot. Now, we can't get enough of each other.

I wouldn't say we're going on dates, but we are hanging out at school, going to the movies, and even parties together. Ever since Hunt became my keeper, people stopped paying attention to me. The bullying has ceased to a minimum, and everyone seems to be scared to approach me. I wonder if he said something about it and threatened them. After the cafeteria incident a few years ago, I bet the assholes who wouldn't leave me alone are scared. It helps that he is built like a man at eighteen years old. I guess that happens when someone has been an athlete since they were little.

He's honestly a masterpiece, carved from freaking stone. His abs are something out of this world, and so are his legs. I don't know what he sees in me, or how he's with a scrawny little shit, but I'm not complaining. I get to touch those muscles whenever I want, even if it's with the lights off, in our own little bubble.

The scratching of my pencil is loud in the silence as I sketch him—his face. I love drawing his eyes and lips; those are my favorite. His brow is scrunched in concentration as he reads Pride and Prejudice , which is apparently required for his AP English four class. One of the things I love about Hunter is that he's not a typical jock—he doesn't fit the stereotype. He's really smart, and he's taking almost all AP classes this year. English is his favorite subject, and he wants to study English Literature in college. I know he doesn't plan to use his college degree since he wants to be drafted by the NHL, but he's still trying to make something of himself.

Hunter sighs, "I love this."

I smile, feeling it all the way in my heart. Everything he does is something I love. "What?"

"You sketching me."

"How do you know I'm sketching you ?"

Hunter sits up from his place at the foot of the bed, and my back straightens, hiding my sketchbook against my chest. We both know he's what I sketch the most. My little obsession is out of control. Even so, he still doesn't make fun of me for it. He loves it. Loves me . He doesn't have to tell me all the time for me to know.

"I know it in here." He taps his chest with his fist and my stomach flutters. "I can just tell, okay?"

"So you're psychic now." My lips tip up on one side. "Is that what you're saying?"

"You're predictable, Ollie." I rip the page from my sketchbook and offer it to him. He takes it with a grin, holding it at a distance and letting his eyes skim it. When his eyes connect with mine once more, he beams. "See what I'm saying? Predictable."

"Whatever." I huff playfully. "You love it when I draw your pretty face."

"I love that you think I'm pretty." He looks at me slowly, from my face to how I sit cross-legged across from him.

Butterflies attack my stomach. "I always think you are."

Silence stretches between us as he gets out of bed and pulls a small box from his nightstand drawer. My stomach drops as he sits back at the foot of the bed, but then he seems to think about the distance between us and crawls toward me. He ends up kneeling in front of me, putting the box on the bed beside him, and taking my face in his hands. It's a dangerous position to be caught in. If Mom or Dad were to open the door, he couldn't really excuse this behavior with something else. It's pretty obvious what's happening—and I'm living for the danger of it.

"I have something for you, Blue." He murmurs, brushing his lips against mine. He tips my head up and thrusts his tongue into my mouth, making my stomach flip. I'll never get used to the way my body responds to him.

"What is it?" I ask, completely breathless by the time he pulls away.

Hunter smiles, grabs the small box, and shoves it into my hands. There are two rings, and I stare up at him in confusion. The rings are a dark gray metal on the edges, yet they have an iridescent effect on the center band. One of them is green, and the other is blue. My stomach flips as I look back at them and then at him again.

He must see the confusion on my face, making him smile. "One is for you, and one is for me."

"Why?"

Hunter shrugs. "Because you're mine."

"Yours?"

" Mine ." He nods with a smile. "And I want to see it every day. I want proof that what we have isn't all in my head. Because, Ollie…it's not all in my head. Right? I'm not imagining that you feel something, too?"

My chest becomes tight. "You're not." I shake my head. "It's not in your head."

"Then promise me something," he whispers as he gets the blue ring out and grabs my right hand, slipping it onto my ring finger. "Promise me you'll never take it off, Ollie. No matter what. If we ever fall apart, we will always find our way back to each other."

My eyes widen. I stare down at the ring, biting my lip to keep it from quivering. "Is this a promise ring?"

"This is whatever you want it to be." He smiles softly. "Now, promise me."

I smile back, "I promise."

"Swear."

"I swear."

I take the green ring, and he lifts his right hand so I can slip it onto his finger. My hands both come to his, and I hold it up, admiring how it shimmers when I turn it. They're beautiful, and it means something more to me than what I can explain. It makes me feel like my dreams can come true. Like what we have is real and can go the distance.

Thoughts of him and I together forever flood my mind. Marriage, a house, and even kids. I've never let myself think of it before, but now I wonder if this is what he's trying to tell me without words. Is he trying to say that we can make it? That we will overcome all obstacles? All the odds stacked against us?

"I got you," Hunter says, reaching for my face and cupping my cheek. His thumb brushes over my bottom lip, and he pulls it down slowly. "Always."

"I got you back."

And I do.

I really, really do.