Synchronised Motion (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 1

I let the crowds noise fade into the background. All my attention on the water, on the synchronised motion of my arms and legs.

My muscles churn and ache painfully and beautifully. My lungs protest for breath, but I don't stop. Not when the guy in the lane beside me is ahead of me.

I push harder.

But not matter how hard I push he matches it and more. It infuriates me. He infuriates me.

I near the end not even bothering to spare a second to breathe. I need to beat him. Soon my hand is hitting the end of the pool and I surface the water. My chest is rising and falling rapidly as I struggle for air. My muscles aching and lungs desperate for oxygen.

But the boy in the lane beside has already surfaced the water. He has already finished the race. He has won the race.

He is Oliver Fowler. 

An easy grin plastered across his face. Droplets of water running down his face and hair clinging to his forehead. He is casually leaning against the pool wall with a grin. His eyes glinting as he looks at me and that  pisses me the fuck off.

My eyes narrow on him, silently sending him daggers. His grin only widens. "Motherfucker" I swear lightly under my breath as I slam my fist against the pool wall in frustration.

Why can I never beat him? Why does he always win? I really though I had him that time.

A drop of water drizzling down his tan muscular chest as he effortlessly pulls himself out of the pool. I swallow deeply before getting out of the pool. My arms shaking slightly as I pull myself out.

***

This is fucking torture I think dragging a hand over my face. Most people would be happy to be where I stand, on the podium in second place. Maybe I would be if it wasn't Oliver Fowler standing beside me in 1st.

But I can't help the uncomfortable burn of jealousy in my chest. I can't help the sour taste in my mouth. I can't help but feel bitter.

The crowd celebrates as Oliver gets a golden medal placed over his head. All eyes are watching him. It's like the whole crowd is magnetised towards this him. He can't help but draw attention. He naturally draws peoples attention medal or no medal.

I see everyone's dazed expressions. He has everyone wrapped around his finger and he doesn't even know it. He smiles triumphantly head held high. His eyes flick to me and I shift my jaw ignoring his eyes burning holes in the side of my face.

It is no secret that Oliver fowler infuriates the fuck out of me. He is their star, the colleges golden boy. He is perfect. Too perfect.

My eyes skim the crowd in more depth. Looking for the brown eyes that mirror my own. He is not here, yet I keep on looking. As if looking harder will make his face appear. My thin string of hope finally snaps, and I give up on looking. I raise my eyes to the roof biting back the emotion rising to my chest.

I am thankful when we get to hop off the podium and away from the crowd. There's a buzz in the locker room. Everyone still on high on the adrenaline. High from the rush of racing In front of such a large crowd.

Across from me is Oliver and his friends. I block out their annoying chatter. I can't help but roll my eyes at the amount of compliments and congratulations everyone is showing him with. I grab my phone.

No notifications.

I let out a puff of breath. Dad didn't even text saying he wasn't going to come. I scoff, I should know better than to get my hopes up.

A slap on my back draws my attention away from my phone.

"You do realise you need oxygen to live, right?" Andy says.

I roll my eyes at him shoving the rest of my shit in my bag. Andy is the only person on the swim team that I don't mind the company of.

"Of course, dipshit." I grunt. 

"Then try breathing every once in a while in aye? Might help" He snorts.

I shrug unapologetically, "I breath once and Fowler is a fucking 3 feet Infront of me" I say, shrugging on a shirt.

Andy barks out a laugh shaking his head, disbelieving. "Man, you just don't quit do you. Oliver is untouchable. Just face it, you're going to kill yourself trying to beat him"

Oliver is the best swimmer on the team- hence why he is the swim squads captain. But swimming is the only thing I got and I am not going to let him take that away from me.

"You just wait Andy, I'll have him one day." I say back nonchalantly. 

Andy sighs, giving up. I hang behind as Andy and the other boys leave not ready to go home just yet. I like to be the last one to leave. Don't know why, just do.

Soon it is just Oliver and I left.

The tension in the room is thick, suffocating. Time to get the fuck out of here. I grab my bag sling it over my shoulder.

"You shouldn't hold your breathe." Oliver says breaking the silence. "I mean in a race, you shouldn't skip breath's." His voice is surprising soft.

I glance up to him to see his dark eyes already on me. His blond hair wet making it a dark sandy colour.

I shift my jaw. I didn't realise the golden boy was listening to my conversations.

"Fuck off Golden boy. Why don't you just mind your own goddamn business" I hiss, grabbing my bag and walking past him.

He scoffs shoving me lightly but unexpectedly, causing me to stumble back into the wall.

"What's your problem?" He says, his eyes searching mine.

"You. Now get the fuck out my way" I scowl. I try take a step but he pushes me back; right back into the wall.

"Or what, huh?" He challenges.

My eyes widen in shock. Oliver the sweet charming golden boy, biting back. I have never so much seen the golden boy raise his voice, let alone loose his cool. It was starting to get unnerving how calm he always was.

I can't help but smirk, "That's is not very golden boy of you" I pretend to pout, loving how angry he is getting.

He wastes no time closing the distance between us."Why do you keep calling me that? Stop calling me that." He says through gritted teeth, holding eye contact with me. His usual smile gone and his eyes a shade darker than usual. He is so close right now that I can see speaks of yellow in his blue eyes. I would almost think it pretty if I didn't dislike him so much.

I straighten my spine, trying to close the height difference. That couple of inches he has on me that seems to go on for fucking miles. He can be fucking intimidating when he wants to be.

"Fuck off Fowler. Rich loving family, golden boy of the college, bet you even have pretty little perfect girlfriend. You are the definition of a golden boy", I sneer.

He mirrors the illusion of a calm composure, like he always does. But a muscle in his jaw twitches and I know I have gotten under his skin. And that gives me so much satisfaction.

I let a lazy smile come to my lips. "Don't worry golden boy", I pretend to brush dust off his shoulders. "I'm sure your pretty girlfriend won't mind you're late for dinner"

He lets out a strangled laugh placing a hand against my chest pushing me back against the wall. Hard.

"If I am so golden how come I am doing this huh?"

My brows furrow. "Doing wha-"

I don't have time to finish my sentence because Oliver Fowler slams his lips onto mine.