Synchronised Motion (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 12

Author Note: I think it's about time I update...

Just wanted to say a massive thank you to all who supported me on the last chapter! Appreciate you all so much❤️. Also a shout-out to the original people that supported this story, I wouldn't be here without you. Anyway, enjoy the story...

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Oliver is mad. Eye twitching— hands clenched—body tense, type of mad.

He doesn't say anything for the first few minutes, he checks my hand and intently scans me for any other injuries. He's unusually quiet while he does so, his lips pressed into a firm thin line. When he comes to the conclusion I'm alright, he takes an angry step back.

He lets out a puff of air, rakes a hand through his hair, narrows his eyes.

"You, a so fucking immature, Beau," he grits, then louder, "so IMMATURE!"

I stay silent, like a child being scowled.

"You need to control your god-damn anger!" He yells before swearing, and then again. "FUCK! What were you thinking?"

He paces some more, raking a hand through his hair, tugging hair, jaw working until he finally says, "You're on a scholarship Beau! You are in no position to be getting eliminated from races let alone competition finals like this!"

I sit quietly, watching him pace the bathroom tugging the ends of his hair. It's like a prey watching its predator's moves, assessing how much of a threat they are—seeing how much shit I am in.

If there is one thing I know about Oliver from the past two years of swimming with him, it's that he doesn't lose his cool. That's what makes him a good captain. He is always the man of control and regimen. He's calculative, he analyses the full situation before acting. He's smart and collected. He's calm.

He's not so calm now...

This would be a monumental moment if I wasn't the one caught in the crossfire. Maybe in a sick twisted way, the 'old me' would feel proud. Proud, that I made Oliver Fowler lose his cool, that I was the one to make him snap.

But that's the old me, new me feels sick—feels anxiously guilty. Feels like shit.

New me sucks.

He grabs my collar, roughly pulling me towards him and effectively out of my thoughts.

"Why? Why did you do that? Why would you self-sabotage yourself like that?" his eyes flicker between my own.

I look away avoiding his eyes. I mutter under my breath, "It's not like I was going to beat you anyway."

He shakes his head in disbelief for a second before he responds. "You're right." He says honestly. "You wouldn't have beaten me."

The arrogance of this man, someone needs to knock him down a notch or two, or ten?

"Or not," he shrugs. "Guess we will never know."

I grind my teeth.

"Whatever, Golden boy." I try to shrug off his grip but he doesn't let me go.

In fact, his grip tightens, eyes darkening. "I thought I told you not to call me that because I'm more than willing to change your mind on that."

I pause.

I don't think we are talking about the same thing anymore...

His eyes flick back to mine. "You can't pull shit like this."