It's Not Over (RusAme Story)

Chapter 25- Slapshot

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

~Russia's POV~

I leaned back on one of the steel benches after hockey practice, waiting for America to show up. I flicked through random reels on Instagram, not really feeling invested in any of them.

When was she getting here?

In my boredom, my mind went back to the events of lunch and the way she had seemingly freaked out.

America walked in, tossing her dirty-blonde hair over her shoulder. She adjusted a drawstring on her bag and flipped her sunglasses up on top of her head. She paused, seeming unsure, before lightly adding, "Hey."

I glanced up at her, confused. Did she just say hi? I don't think getting along with her would ever become normal, especially considering our past. Besides, our mutual comradery would be over as soon as this project was finished.

I nodded in her direction, deciding not to dwell on her greeting. "Let's start."

"Yeah," she plunked down next to me. "What are we working on today?"

I gave her an unimpressed look. "You really need to keep up your own half of the project."

She sighed, returning the dull look before blandly repeating her question. "What are we doing today?"

Five more days to go, I told myself. Five more days until this is over.

Why did that make me feel kind of sad?

I quickly squashed down that thought before rolling my eyes and peering down at the overly thick project packet. Damn UN and his meddling qualities. Seriously, who would deem Physical Attraction as a good project topic for high school students, let alone assign a whole textbook?

America leaned near my shoulder, her head tilting inward towards my chest since she couldn't see over my shoulder.

I startled. "What are you doing?"

She gave me a questioning look. "Looking at the packet?"

I felt uneasy, the feeling of nervousness resting uncomfortably in my gut. Probably because of the proximity of my enemy. "You don't need to get close to me to do that!" I scowled.

America's eyes widened before narrowing deviously. "Oh, does this bother you?" she mused, leaning in close to my face.

My stomach flipped as the nearness of her face sent off alarm bells in my head. "America..." I warned, voice unconsciously growing deeper as she continued to get closer.

She smirked, and I knew that look all too well. She wasn't going to give up, but I wasn't about to let her fluster me so easily. No one gets the best of me.

I'll show her not to mess with me.

I smirked back at her and leaned in her direction.

Instantly, she changed her tune and froze as my palm loudly hit the metal bench beside her hip. Her eyes widened and mine narrowed. Before I knew it, her hand was pressed bracingly against my chest, and the project pocket lay unforgotten on the floor.

America refused to meet my eyes. "Fine," she said, glaring at the ground like it was the reason why we were in the position.

I pressed closer.

"Okay, you win, you win!"

I tittered. "Disappointing."

My smug remark received its desired result. "What do you mean?" America exclaimed, her face burning with indignation.