Page 21 of Antidote

And she does, because when I steal another glance at her, her eyes are back on the game. However, I just know the damage is done, and I can’t keep looking at Hunter anymore tonight.

So I don’t.

We make our way back to the car when the game is over, and it takes twice as long as it should with the Saturday night crowd. I opt to sit in the third row of the SUV, and instead of taking the hint, Hunter joins me. I hold my breath for a moment, then let it out slowly. I’m about to tell him to sit in the row in front of me, when his hand grabs the inside of my thigh and squeezes hard. I close my eyes, relishing in the feel of it, when he leans in and presses his lips against my ear.

I feel them brushing against my skin as he asks, “What’s wrong, Blue?”

My stomach flips when he calls me that, and I open my eyes to see Lucy staring at us from the mirror in the front. I avert my stare and shake my head, and Hunter tightens his hand on my thigh to a very painful degree. I’m sure it’ll leave bruises, though I refuse to answer the question. I don’t want to put even more doubts in his mind. I don’t want to tell him that his mom is onto us. That she might not approve.

So I lie through my teeth. “I’m just tired.”

“We’ll get some good sleep soon, baby,” he whispers, grabbing my hand and bringing it to his lap.

I stay still so I don’t draw attention to us, mainly because her eyes are still on us. I can feel them, so I don’t know how he hasn’t noticed. But I’m not complaining, especially with his warm hand in mine. It’s not like she can see anything anyway. And when I look back and see that she’s still staring, I’m the one to raise my eyebrow, and she’s the one to avert her eyes.

I don’t give a fuck how much she doesn’t approve.

He’s mine.

And I’m not letting him go.

18 YEARS OLD

Iduck under the bleachers to find Ollie sitting on the dirt. He takes one look at me, and a smile blooms on his face. It’s so beautiful it’s nearly blinding, and I immediately return it. He doesn’t seem to notice how my heart speeds up every time we’re together or the way my hands tremble when I touch him. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, like my feelings are too much for my body and I can’t contain them.

Looking around, I make sure there’s no one before taking a seat next to him on the ground. My faded blue jeans will be filthy after this, but I don’t care. All I want is to spend this time with him before lunch is over and I have to go back to class. We’re not supposed to be out here, which makes it even hotter. We’re here for a quick make-out session, and then we’ll head to class when the bell rings.

“How’s your day?—”

I cut him off by slamming my lips to his, and he moans as I thrust my tongue into his mouth. Ollie’s hands come to the back of my neck as he holds me to him, climbing onto my lap and grinding against me. I squeeze my eyes shut until there are white spots in my vision, trying to ground myself. My hands lie limp at my sides until I can’t hold back anymore, and I cup his ass—squeezing hard until he groans.

There’s this feeling in my chest that inflates like a balloon. It’s hot and tight, and I can hardly breathe past the lump in my throat. Every kiss with him is this way—full of unnamed emotions. It always makes me feel like I’m going to implode, and I haven’t figured out if it’s a good or bad thing yet. But I can’t control it, that’s all I know. And maybe I don’t want to. It’s probably not healthy to feel like you’re going to have a heart attack every time you kiss someone, but the alternative—not feeling anything at all—quiets all the lingering doubts in my brain.

Ollie grinds against me again, his ass against my dick, and I moan. My fingers tighten against him, and he grins against my lips. It’s the little moments like these that I wish I could store in a glass jar and never let them go. Just for me to keep—mementos of us.

I have so many of them. Whispered promises under the covers. Stolen kisses under the moonlight. Soft touches. Nose brushes. Butterfly kisses. And most importantly, love. So much of it that I’m dizzy just thinking about it. And I don’t think I tell him enough. I think he believes it’s just brotherly love. But it’s not. Fuck, I think I’m in love with him, and I don’t know how to feel about that. It makes me hot and cold all over just thinking about it.

Does this mean I’m not straight anymore?

Shoving that thought to the side, I pull away from Ollie and press my forehead against his. “Ollie.” I breathe. “I love you.”

“I know.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I love you.”

Ollie’s blue eyes search mine, and he slowly smiles and then kisses me again. This time it’s soft and tentative, unsure. And I hate it, because that means?—

Someone clears their throat from behind us and I panic, shoving Ollie off me until he’s on his back. A loud whooshing sound escapes him as his back meets the rocky dirt, and I feel like a fucking asshole, but goddamn it?—

“What the fuck, Oliver?!” I yell.

He seems hurt, almost like I kicked him, except I beg with my eyes to go along with it. He shakes his head slowly at me in disappointment.

“I didn’t know you were gay, Hunter,” Michael, one of my teammates, says. Of course, it would be someone I know.

“I’m not.” I shake my head once, a jerky movement. “He is.”

I beg Ollie again with my expression, but he shakes his head and stands up. I’m really fucking this all up. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

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