Ollie
I wasn’t going to lie. I missed football. I missed the feeling of grass underneath my cleats, and I missed the way the pigskin felt in my hands as I caught the ball, dashing to the end zone. In fact, I almost tried out for the baseball team just so I had something to do with my time until summer conditioning came around, but I was glad I hadn’t.
If I’d taken up baseball, I wouldn’t have been standing in the middle of the auditorium, helping Piper with these stupid winter formal decorations.
I supposed the old adage was correct: everything did happen for a reason.
“Why are you attacking it like that?”
Piper’s head popped up. She was fucking adorable. “Huh?”
I smirked. “You’re painting that tree with so much aggression your bristles are fraying.”
Piper looked down at the paintbrush in her hand, and her mouth fell open. “Oh. Oops.”
Leisurely, I walked over and gently took the paintbrush from her. “Here, let me.”
A shimmering blue color shined underneath the lights of the auditorium as I stroked the paint on lightly. Piper took a step back, and instead of sighing with frustration like she’d been doing for the past half-hour, she actually looked relieved. Her body slumped down along the wall as she watched me.
My eyes danced around the auditorium. A few guys were standing back, looking at the banner I’d made them rehang because it was crooked the first time they’d hung it. Then, a few cheerleaders that I may or may not have hooked up with a while back were wrapping some see-through material around round tables, and then I was back on Piper.
She had her plump bottom lip tucked in between her teeth, and her legs were crossed at the ankles. I scanned the bare skin between her knee-high stockings and her skirt and forced myself to look away.
“So?” I asked, still painting. “How am I doin’, boss?”
Piper’s lip plopped out of her mouth with a pop, and I was honestly very impressed with my self-control. I wanted her. I was like a lion on the prowl, my blood pressure rising when I’d thought back to yesterday. Her lips on mine. Her legs around my hips. My hands digging into her skin.
Hot. It was so fucking hot.
“Why are you here helping?”
Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Why was painting feeling dirty all of a sudden?
“Just wanted to help out. Give back to the school, ya know?”
Piper shot me an incredulous look, but I ignored it, going back to painting.
“So, what did you find yesterday?”
Playing stupid, I asked, “Yesterday? What was yesterday?” I waited a second, and just before she tried to answer, I said, “You mean before you begged me to kiss you?”
Piper sucked in a breath and sat up a little taller. The fire in her eyes was evident, but instead of saying something snarky back, she stopped herself. I watched her entire body language change. She wasn’t putting up her metaphorical fists to fight with me; she was backing down.
I was confused at first, and a little let down, until I realized what she was doing.
Her face softened. “Don’t do that with me, Ollie.”
I played it off, getting more than enough paint on my brush. “Do what?”
“Try to change the subject so we don’t have to discuss your problems.”
The grip on my paintbrush grew harder. “Why not? Your annoyance with me is a far better topic to discuss.” I glanced up at her, and her features were relaxed. Patient. I could feel the control slipping. “I know what we can talk about. Let’s talk about your hatred for me. That used to be your favorite topic.”
“I don’t hate you, and you know it.”
“You just don’t like people
knowing I kissed you.”