Synchronised Motion (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 10

I scramble off the diving board a few second after everyone else.

Fuck.

This seems to be a regular occurrence, I always seem to be a step behind Oliver. Always scrambling behind him in a haste. Always the one reacting to the moves he makes. It sucks.

Once I am in the water I try to blank my mind and focus on the race, on my movement. Usually, when I am racing all I think about Is winning. About the glory and the gold. But this time is different. Winning is not the prime thought on my mind this time.

I try not to think about it about what is really on my mind.

What bet?

Oliver who?

For the whole race, my mind is a mess. Just when my body was starting to work and my motion was starting to be more synchronised, my mind would fuck me up. It was overthinking too much.

Thankfully race finishes quickly enough. I didn't come last, but I didn't come first either. It is obvious who won the race. I know because he was a good few feet in front of everyone. I also know because every is currently sending him envious and impressed glances.

It's good for our team. I should be happy that Oliver has scored our team valuable points.

But I'm fucked off because that was not cool.

Who does that kind of shit? Who throws a bomb like that at someone before a race? LITERAL SECONDS before the race. Some people need to focus before diving. Some people need to actually be looking at the water before they dive.

I don't appreciate these mind games. He doesn't need mind games to win and he knows that. What is he playing at? What is he trying to achieve? Because last I checked the better I do—the better the team places.

My fingers grip the side of the pool as I try to regain my breath along with all the other swimmers. The other swimmers are all panting at the end of their lanes, looking at Oliver with distant envy. With stars in their eyes. I am starting to become familiar with the effect Oliver has on people. The way people are looking at him like they are right now.

But Oliver is looking at me.

He's looking at me and I can't look at him. My body is buzzing with adrenaline and twitchy,but my mind is tired. My bed has never been more wanted than now. A bonus would be I would be far away from him.

I mean, who knows I could have won? This could have been the time I finally bet him. But he distracted me, he made me fuck up. But my heart isn't in it today to be as pissed as I would normally be.

Out of my peripheral vision, I see him swim closer. He is breathing heavily, his lip curled and eyes glinting. He leans against the swimming lane divider between us, too close for comfort. His chest is heaving up and down as he tries to find his breath. Wet curls hang in his eyes and his jaw solid as stone. He doesn't say anything, just watches me. Waiting.

His breathing is harsh puffs of air, his lips parted slightly and eyes not wavering from me. I start fidgety under his gaze. My tired body is restless.

"What?" I snap, turning my head to finally look him in the eye. "Want congratulation? A compliment?"

His grin grows and he cocks his head to the side. "Yeah, I'd like that. Can I get that?"

I scoff, "Not from me, but don't worry I'm sure you will get plenty from everyone else." My voice dripping with anger.

He leans closer, his dark wet hair wet pushed back out of his face. Droplets of water clinging to his bronze skin and ridges of his chest become more defines as he moves closers. He looks like the devil. A delicious edible devil.