Wanted by The Wanted | ✔️

|| TWENTY ||

That night, I make sure I head up to the bedroom before Oscar to keep away any unwanted conversation. It's been tough to avoid the others and their questions for the whole day, especially since Oscar wasn't exactly quiet.

Brushing my teeth, changing, and showering constantly on my toes keeps me as wide-eyed and prepared as a hyper possum. Dressed in a sportsbra (going braless doesn't sound very appealing with Oscar in the room - especially after last night), a loose white shirt, and grey shorts, I wander towards the bed.

Stopping an inch from it, I hesitate. Do I really want to sleep in this bed that Oscar just did his business in? He changed the sheets... But there's a part of me that's freaking out at just knowing what happened on the cursed mattress. I turn to the floor and spread out the spare pillows in the closet on the ground, settling down with an extra duvet over me.

Hey, this isn't so bad, I think to myself. Cosy. No bad memories. The floor's nice.

The door opens and I quickly shut my eyes, feigning sleep. Oscar's footsteps pad down towards my side of the room and a low chuckle leaves him, "Avyn, you're really bad at acting."

With a sigh, I open my eyes again, heartbeat escalating at Oscar's handsome frame clad in a slightly unbuttoned shirt that gives me a peek at his chest.

"Are you so fussy you aren't gonna sleep in the bed?" he asks, knowing the answer.

"Obviously, because if my memories serve as any proof, terrible things have happened there," I let out a nervous scoff that sounds like a cough as he smiles.

He turns around to take off his shirt and I look away so I don't wake up my overthinking mind, "You know," he says, "I know you were standing there for a while, just watching me; you could have looked away. I guess I'm too eye-catching... or maybe you were intrigued."

"Let's just never talk about that or this conversation ever again. It'll save us a lot of embarrassment and awkwardness," I say as he laughs, fixing a strand of hair in the mirror.

"I wasn't embarrassed," he claims with a shrug, unbuckling his jeans and dropping them as I pull the duvet up to my nose.

I sigh as I reply, "Well that much is clear, you didn't even stop or cover yourself up when I walked in. Do you not have any decency?"

"Well, in my defence, blue balls really suck and I was pretty much ready anyway," he grins before getting into bed and flicking off the light, "Goodnight, Avyn."

A shudder crawls down my spine as my name rolls of his tongue. It reminds me of his words.

"Avyn. Ah, Avyn... So fucking tight..."

Memories, please leave me alone.

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Something tickles my nose. It's cold and barely-there. I force out a noise of discomfort and turn onto my side, a corner of the duvet bunched up in my hands as I lift it to guard my face. The thing continues to irk me, now on my forehead. I lay a hand over my forehead and eyes, also successfully blocking out the extra light.

Everything turns calm for a while.

And then the something continues, present on my cheek. I swipe my cheek, patience running short and letting out a groan. Does the world hate sleep? What is this blasphemy?

A low chuckle reverberates in the room, "Adorable."

At that, I wake up, flipping back onto my back and rubbing my eyes. I open them to see deep grey pupils right in my face, lined with long, thick eyelashes. Was Oscar blowing on my face? I should feel shocked at our proximity but I only feel jealous that my eyelashes are no where near his level of perfection. His legs are either side of me as he leans down, awaiting an end to my slumber.