Chapter 27 - Oliver

T he light streams in through the blinds, illuminating my face and making me grimace. Today is the first day of school, and I'm determined to make the most of it by spending at least three hours at the studio. With this being my senior year, I thankfully know where everything is. The Art building is where I take all my classes, and that's only a five-minute walk from here, which is perfect since I don't have a car. Dad didn't want me driving under the influence, and he still doesn't trust that I'll stay clean. No one has any faith in me, not that I can blame them after what happened back in May. But it still stings nonetheless.

I'm fucking clean—just look at me. Even though the itch I experience every day and the crawling sensation over my skin makes me want to rip it off, I've managed not to hit up my dealer. And I really, really want to.

Sitting up, I shove the sheets away from me. I need to shower before school, and maybe it's petty of me, but if Malia is here, I want her to see what she's competing against. Not to be cocky, but I've been told by guys that I have a big dick, and I'd say it's even bigger than Hunter's. She should be a little intimidated, seeing as I sure as fuck wouldn't be against a little flip fuck to make Hunter forget all about her. He'll be begging me to bottom, I guarantee it. And that's what makes me go to the open the door and step out—completely naked.

I frown.

I could've sworn I closed and locked the door last night.

Oh.

I guess Hunter still can't stay away.

Just like I hoped, Malia is coming out of Hunter's room, fully dressed and ready to go. She closes the door behind her, and he's nowhere to be seen. Probably either working out or at practice knowing him.

Malia gasps, and her eyes widen, roaming down my body. Yeah, I may be the emo fucking faggot, like all those kids called me at school, but I've made sure to always workout. I smirk at her, because even with her long blonde hair and icy blue eyes, I see that Hunter's still looking for me in every person he sticks to like glue.

Yeah, baby, you don't hate me nearly as much as you think you do.

"I hate to disappoint you, baby girl." I smirk. "But I'm gay as fuck."

Her eyes linger on my dick, and she grins. "Goddamn." We both laugh together—and yeah, I'm laughing because the bitch is clueless. I'm going to ruin his fucking life by doing this every day. He'll have to remember every time he was almost inside of me but didn't get to be. And that's gonna haunt him. "What a shame for the female population."

"And the male." I shrug. "I'm not sticking this in anyone."

Except maybe your boyfriend.

Malia tuts, a smirk crossing her features now too. Okay, so maybe she's alright, but I'm not going to be her friend. Not when I want her man— my man. "That sucks for you, dude." I chuckle and her eyes widen as she hears the front door open.

"Carry on," I tell her, "I'm gonna go shower."

I turn toward the bathroom door when I hear Hunter growl, "What the fuck, Oliver."

He's standing stock still, and when our eyes meet, there's a scowl on his face. He looks down at me slowly, appraisingly, and I stand a little taller. Let him see me. When his eyes lock on my piercing, I grin.

His face is shocked.

But I see it all play out.

There's want, lust, and longing in his gaze.

Along with disgust.

"See something you like?"

"In your fucking dreams," he whispers.

That brings the biggest smile to my face. "Maybe sometimes."

I close the door behind me and lock it for good measure. Especially since he'll have to work extra hard if he wants to watch what I'm about to do.

After the shower is running and the water is hot the way I like, I get in. I close my eyes and let my head fall back, allowing the droplets to soothe me. I think of the past. How Hunter would straddle me, lips parted, and jerk us off together. How I took him to the back of my throat, the way he moaned for only me.

My cock thickens, rising toward my abdomen, and I take in a sharp breath. I'd do anything for his fingers inside of me, hitting that sweet spot over and over. At this point, I'd take anything he's willing to give. I'm desperate for it. It's too bad I know he's willing to give nothing.

It still doesn't stop me from wrapping my hand around my cock and tugging at it. I moan though it's not enough. I look around, seeing his body wash on the shelf on the wall, and squirt some onto the palm of my hand. Smiling, I wrap it around my cock again and jack myself the way I used to do to him. Long and slow, brushing my Prince Albert piercing on the upstroke. I bet he'd fucking love it, and I bet I'd love him sucking on it, even if he's never sucked dick a day in his life.

Fuck.

I bite my lip, then suck my lip ring into my mouth, trying to stay quiet as I pant. Except the closer I get to coming, the less control I have over my whimpers. It's like my body can feel his proximity. And who the hell am I kidding? I want him to hear me. I want him to think of me later when he's alone in his room, ready to pleasure himself. For I know the time will come again, when he can't take it anymore. No matter what he says, he's still weak for me.

Jacking my length faster, I moan loudly, slapping the wall as I come all over it. My hips stutter, and I open my mouth on a gasp, my chest heaving with my pants. The sight of my cum running down the wall brings a smile to my face, and I go about my business and finish taking a shower. Leaving it there for him to find. And I know he just got home all sweaty and nasty, so he's going to shower really soon.

After I'm dry and have a towel wrapped low on my hips, I open the door. Just to find Hunter leaning against it and almost falling into the bathroom with me. I smirk and look down at his body, disappointed that he's not naked. But he's hard. I can see that either way.

"Do you need my help with something?" I grin, then suck my lip ring into my mouth. His eyes fixate on it, then snap back to my eyes. I'm looking right at his dick, which keeps growing in his running shorts. The way his thumb twists the ring on his right hand is distracting too, and I force myself to look away. I can't believe he's still wearing our ring—even though he swears he hates me.

We'll find our way back to each other.

"You need to learn to keep quiet." Hunter scoffs, and I laugh.

"Seriously?" I laugh again, throwing my head back. When I meet his eyes again, they flare with heat and anger. "How about you keep your bitch quiet then? The walls are thin."

Hunter steps closer to me, his nose pressed against my hair and his lips against my ear. "You're just jealous that she's better in bed."

I laugh, "Bet I could still make you come faster than she can."

"Shut the fuck up, Oliver." My nostrils flare at the way he says my name—I fucking hate it. Why isn't he calling me Ollie? Or Blue? Anything other than that. Even calling me an asshole would do. I can't pretend I don't enjoy the way his breath hitches as his lips make contact with my skin again. "Stay out of my way."

And then he pushes past me, shoulder-checking his way into the bathroom, and slams the door. I wince as it catches on my foot slightly, but then walk back to my room with a smile on my face.

He still wants me.

With that thought, I get ready for the day, putting on black ripped jeans, a black Vans t-shirt, and my Chucks. I style my hair the same way I always do, a little over my face, and call it a day. Then I grab my backpack and leave, not waiting for him to get out of the shower. I don't care to see his reaction when he sees my cum on the wall. He's going to learn not to fuck with me, or I'll fuck with him back.

An hour later, I'm sitting in my Life Drawing class with my sketchbook on my desk. I should be taking notes, but instead, I'm drawing him . Because, of course, I am. Lately, that's all I do. But it's as if I can't stop myself. Always seeking out even a semblance of the feelings he used to harbor for me. Ones I know still linger. He just won't give in.

The arm of the guy sitting next to me brushes against mine, and then I realize it's because he's leaning over and watching me. I've completely tuned out the professor, which is a horrible thing to do considering he's going over the syllabus, but damn it, I just want to lock myself in a studio and not come out for hours. I'm going to school because I need to, but if it were up to me, I'd be selling my art. Instead, I'm going to school to study painting and art. Because if I'm unlucky—which I tend to be—I'll end up teaching high schoolers how to mix colors properly. Yep, I'll be living the life.

"Who's that?" the guy next to me asks in a whisper. He looks pretty."

I glance over at him and do a double-take. Damn, he's beautiful, and as my eyes roam down his body, I notice he's built like a damn quarterback too. Is he a jock? I clear my throat, "No one." But it still comes out as a squeak. "I made him up."

"Well, damn, you're good." I gaze into his eyes and he smiles. "James—but you can call me Jamie."

"Ollie." I grin. "Oliver."

"Is my gaydar off?" he asks me softly, and I chuckle.

"Not even a little." I grin, and since I'm lonely and in need of a friend, I ask, "Wanna go to the studio with me after?"

"After class?"

I nod, and his brown eyes widen slightly. "If you want."

With a soft smile, he answers, "Sure."

We spend the rest of the class in silence, me tuning out the teacher, and Jamie looking at what I'm drawing. And, of course, it's Hunter's eyes, nose, and lips. I can't get him out of my damn head. At this point, I don't know if I want to. It's pure torture, although I'd take this any day over not knowing anything about him like the last few months.

I'd take any scraps of him I can get.