Oliver is a manga artist, but he was once an angry little boy with a sunny best friend: Ian Miller. Then, one day, they weren't friends anymore. Oliver doesn't know when was it exactly that Ian disappeared from his life, and refuses to remember why...
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I guess I should have seen this coming.
"Dude, stop," I chuckle when Ian practically shoves me down on his bed as soon as we make it into his room. My body bounces on the mattress and all. "Didn't you say your mom's coming in like fifteen minutes?" I ask, but he's still climbing me like a goddamn tree.
"That's enough time," he says, grasping the bottom of my shirt and gathering it up so to pull it off. Then he stops. "Unless you don't want to?"
I mean, with my luck? His parents are gonna arrive before we do much of anything. But I still turn my cheek on the comforter instead of looking at him cause— "Nah."
He tilts his head. "'Nah'... meaning you don't?"
This guy— take a hint. But I can feel he's still waiting for an answer, so I roll him over myself. This should be easier given that he's smaller than me—in theory— but he's no feather.
"Do you, uh...work out?" I ask, curiously feeling up his shoulders, chest and a little below that. It seems I discover something new about his body every time I touch it.
"Not really,"he replies, immediately wrapping his thighs around me. "But I still swim..." he purrs and, yeah! I remember him going to classes. So that's why he's this surprisingly...fit, huh? Guess I'm lucky, too.
"What do you even wanna do?" I ask, my palm now slipping under his sweater cause he gasps whenever I rub his stomach and I fucking love that.
"I don't know..." I'm starting to realize that his voice changed, too— a lot. It's not only deeper but a little... husky. Yum. "We could kiss more? We're..." His tone softens. "—um, boyfriends now, right?"
Well— "Yeah." There. Caught it before I could fuck up. Aren't you proud?
He beams again. "So..." He sucks in his bottom lip, his lids fall the way they always do and now he isn't really smiling anymore. Minx. "I want boyfriend stuff."
Okay, but— "Is that different than the stuff we've been doing?"
He squeezes me with his legs again, arching his spine so our bodies are pressing tightly together and fuck... I never realize I'mthishard until we do that.
"Yup."
"Why?" I ask honestly.
"Because..." The briefest spark of fear flashes across his eyes. "I want you to say it."
"Say what?" I insist, pulling him right under me. There you go.
"What I said," he pants, but I'm still not following.
"Talk, Miller."
"Call me 'baby'," he blurts. Oh. "Or...! Whatever you want to call me, really!" he catches himself "I just... want to make sure it's real." His fingers run through my hair, almost apologetic. "—you know?"
