Crush

Caught

Asher

Oliver looked at me, his eyes wide. "Are you sure?"

I grinned at him. "Absolutely."

He looked down at the football jersey in his hands. My football jersey. I'd just asked him to wear it at our final game tonight.

Usually the guys would ask their girlfriends or someone they were hoping to hook up with or some significant other to wear their jersey to a game. Oliver was my significant other. And I wanted him to wear it.

A part of me actually just wanted to see him wear my clothes. The perverted part of me.

I smirked to myself.

Oliver flopped down on the sofa. I sat next to him.

He ran his fingers over the cloth of the shirt. "Isn't this a big thing, though? Asking someone to wear the jersey with your number on it?"

I shrugged. "It's only a big thing if you make it one."

He carried on playing with the material in his hands, caressing it gently, like it was something important to him, something he didn't want to break.

I nudged his shoulder with mine. "You can wear it under my letterman jacket."

His head whipped up. "You want me to wear your letterman jacket, too?" I nodded. Why not get him kitted out in all of my football gear?

"You may as well just announce it to the school that we're together."

I frowned.

He shook his head. "I turn up to the game wearing all of your clothes. What kind of message does that give?"

"That you're a fan of the game." I smirked. "And an even bigger fan of mine."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Idiot."

I sighed and ran my hand over my short hair. "Look, everyone knows that we're friends, so just wear it. No one will even blink an eye."

He looked taken aback. "Hey! I never said I wouldn't wear it. I was only saying that it makes it pretty obvious that we're close."

"We are close." I scooted across the sofa to him, pushing my body up against his, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "See? Close."

He giggled. "You're impossible."

"You know it." I leaned forward to plant a kiss on his lips. Pulling back, I took in his blue eyes, soft golden hair and handsome face. "So, you'll wear it then?"

He rolled his eyes again, a smile playing on his lips. "If I have to."

I chuckled. "Why don't you show me how it fits on you?" He cocked a brow. "You know, so I know what you look like when I'm on the field and I'm searching for you in the stands."

Giving me an incredulous look, Oliver stood up, reached down and pulled his own shirt over his head, looking deep into my eyes while he did so. The sight of his bare torso, defined abs and the muscles in his arms had my mouth watering.

No. Now was not the time. We were in the living room of his house, with his dad in his office only a few feet away.

Calm down, man.

I blinked a couple of times and adjusted myself in my seat in an effort to control the growing tent in my jeans.

Within seconds, he'd pulled my jersey on and was standing in front of me, looking ... well, fucking delicious.

Holding his arms out, he cocked his head to the side. "Well," he smiled. "What do you think?"

I stood up and wrapped my arms around his waist. "It suits you." Leaning forward, I licked his ear. "Although," I whispered, "I think you look a lot better out of it."