Rival Morality BxB

8

Rowan POV:

I must have had a gallon of tequila last night. It's the only explanation for what I'm seeing. For what I'm feeling.

Another body is pressed up against mine, our arms, legs, and breaths entangled. Just inches in front of my eyes are someone's closed ones. Oliver's to be exact.

I had to be dreaming. Right?

But then it moved. He moved closer and let out a content little sigh after he wrapped his leg around me.

So cute.

No one else was here. Even Oliver wouldn't remember. I decided it was safe and reached out to his soft copper hair. Not straight, but not curly.

His hair was my secret obsession. I mean, other than him.

He smelled so good, citrus and cinnamon, and with his warmth I didn't understand how anyone could ever be cold.

A sudden zap to my skull reminds me of what I did last night: twelve shots of fireball and a mix of others. I keeled over the side of my bed, scrambling to the bathroom.

I swear my intestines came out from how much I puked.

"Someone drank too much last night."

And there he was, with his stupid little face and his stupid little snide remarks and his stupid copper hair and his stupid crooked smile.

He quirked an eyebrow when I didn't respond.

I groaned, "Go away Oliver."

I could feel the giddiness in his voice, like I fell right into his verbal trap. "You sure didn't want me to go last night."

I froze.

What in the fuck did happen last night? Oh shit. Did we fuck again?

An even worse thought:

Did he fuck me!?

I tested my legs and felt my ass with my hands, looking for any pain.

He sniggered alongside me.

"What the hell are you laughing for!"

"Rowan," he smirked, "I did not fuck you."

"Oh..."

He crowded me until I was backed into the corner. "Did you want me to fuck you?"

I was paralyzed. I couldn't speak.

His feature switched from snarky to curious. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

Did I?

Fuck yes.

It's all I can think about when I see him skating towards me on the ice, his sweaty locks falling into his face.

His hand on my thigh, slowly moving closer, not to my dick, but to my-

"Rowan?"

Still, I give no response.

He backs off me and turns to walk back to my bed.

"I didn't know you were a cuddler," he shot over his shoulder.

"Shut it." I followed him back into the room. "Please tell me I didn't say anything dumb."

"Were you really that blackout drunk?"

"Just tell me," I snapped.

He closed the gap between us, leaving our faces inches apart. His eyes flicked around my face before finally saying, "You told me you thought I was pretty."

"I-Oh." I knew my cheeks were turning cherry red. "Did I- did I say anything else?"

"Not really. You were just very adamant on using me as your personal body pillow." He pushed me on the bed and climbed on top of me, arms on either side of my head. "Like this."

I was a hundred percent sure I was a tomato. "Oh? And, uh, what else?"

"Well I'm not exactly sure, but I think you wanted to do this."

"Do wh-"

I kissed back as soon as his lips touched mine.

If I was kissing Oliver Bennet then pigs must be flying. It was like my darkest fantasy was coming true; I'd never tell him that, though.