𝕊𝕟𝕠𝕨𝕓𝕒𝕫 𝕆𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕤 (𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕤)

Fantasy pt 2

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Baz's POV

I pretend not to notice Snow's horror seeping through as he looks at the bed.

"Close your mouth, Snow. I wouldn't imagine that finding a single bed would excite you this much. . ," I remark sarcastically.

"Uhh—I'm not! Who said I'm excited?!" Snow blusters. The rosy hue on his cheeks and ears betrays him. Then I smirk at the flustered boy.

He looks so beautiful like this. .

"I'll just. . Is there any space on the floor? And can I get a pillow—umm. . please?" He asks nervously. Painfully nervously, and it's strange to see my rival so. . Timid. Whereas usually his fiery blue eyes assail me, right now they're exuding waves of anxiety.

"It's alright, Snow. The bed is big enough for both of us." I tell him calmly.

"What. . ?" His blond brows pinch together. He seems so clueless, my stomach falls to the ground. Fuck, I just offered to share my bed! What the fuck am I thinking? Snow hates me.

"I said, there's enough space on the bed for both of us. And we still wouldn't be too close." My tongue betrays my mind, because all I can think is get away from me, or else I swear my own body will betray me. After all, how can I resist you? But my tongue cares not. It keeps bloody offering.

"Um! You don't have to, Baz. We both hate each other, it's fine. Plus! I don't want you to try anything. I don't like you that way. Actually, I don't like you at all." He blusters further. And if my stomach hit the ground earlier, it lies in knots now. The boy I love basically accused me of being a creep. And in love with him.

Simon's POV

"Snow, you uncultured, ignorant imbecile. Just because I'm gay doesn't mean I like every boy I lay eyes on." Basil's voice drops to a menace.

"Um! I'm sorry! I. . I just thought—" I start, wondering why the fuck I sound like an ignorant and homophobic jerk.

"What? That your undeniable idiocy would charm me?" He sneers, "Cute."

"Hey, you don't need to be an asshole!" It's the first sentence in which I don't stutter. And it's hypocritical, since I'm being an asshole, too.

"Whatever, Snow. Make yourself at home. I'm going down to the Pitch." He says coldly. Silver eyes turning to steel. Fine, Baz. Be that way.

I decide to grab a pillow of his and make myself comfortable on the floor, but Baz was right. . . As much as I hate to admit it. The floor is cold, hard and too suffocating to sleep on. I feel so. . Low. As if the entire world stretched above me; it's frightening. So I try to ignore the voice in my head saying bad idea, Si, Baz will kill you; and take up a spot on the edge of his bed.

After all, he offered.

Baz's POV

I come back a sweating mess. Only to find bronze curls splayed ridiculously over my pillowcase, and a sun-kissed body bundled in my blankets. My heart races at the sight of his soft features. I take a step further, and eventually climb into bed after a shower. A long, cold shower. Trying to stop myself from thinking of Snow in my bed. . .

As I slip under the covers beside Snow, I allow myself to really look at him. Watch his shirtless chest rise and fall with his soft breathing. His lashes fall on his freckled cheekbones. His plump pink lips are parted slightly. . . All my thoughts are chaotic. I'm aching to kiss those lips. To slip my tongue between.

I let my pain, longing, and love, drown me. And out of weakness, I find myself reaching closer. Allowing my nose to graze against his face, to stop at his nose. . Only an inch of air separating our mouths. And it takes all my strength to pull away. To leave him. To keep to myself, to restrict my desirous lips.

Simon's POV

I wake up before Baz, and considering that the rest of the school is on break, and most kids have gone home for the summer, the campus is rather empty. And because we came here for Football purposes, it only makes sense that we have practice at 6am.

So I climb out of bed, after sneaking a quick glance at Baz, who is still blissfully asleep. I use his bathroom to change into my Football attire, just shorts and a team shirt. The basics only, considering I'm lazy, despite being team captain.

As I roam around campus and eventually reach the Pitch, my mood changes completely. I guess today isn't much of a day for laziness, considering Baz, who was asleep only a while ago, is now leading drills for warm ups with his team; whereas mine is only lounging about. Great.

"Look who decided to show up for practice, ah, the captain. . Finally." He quips, before pulling off his shirt dramatically and joining the boys doing push-ups on the field. They're having some sort of silly competition while warming-up, and of course Baz is trying to beat everyone!
Prat.

And the second his abs are exposed and rippling in the sunlight, heads turn. Girls and boys, from the benches and on the team, and cheer squad. Everyone just suddenly needs to look at Baz's perfectly-sculpted porcelain chest and chiseled muscles. Show-off. And the bastard's hair even billows in the wind, gracefully.

"Struggling to keep your clothes on, Bazzy?" I ask, venom lacing my voice.

"Struggling to tear your eyes away, Snowy?" He smirks, and fuck if I don't hate him with every ounce of blood I have. I growl. . Because it's all I know. With him, there's never any winning. Not when he looks like that. . .

"Are you done laughing, and ready to practice?!" I yell at my teammates, who are just now chuckling at Baz's teasing. I fucking hate everyone. Mostly just Baz. Especially as I lead drills for my own team, and he casually takes a water bottle, squirting some water onto his ex-boyfriend. They seem to be close friends still, because the boy grins and plants a sweet kiss on Baz's cheek. Even though Baz is tall enough to need the boy to rise on his toes to reach him, the boy does it. It looks like he'd do anything for Baz really. And weirdly, the thought snakes around my mind, clutching irritation. Probably because Baz doesn't deserve the niceness.

"Are they together again?" I ask one of Baz's mates, as he passes me. I think his name is Rhys.

"Oh those two? Nah. . Baz broke it off a long time ago." He shrugs. "Apparently he's in love with someone else. But they're still good friends." Then he gives me a pointed glance, realizing that there's something off about my frown.

"Do friends kiss each other?" I demand, I'm not sure why.

"Simon, why are you being so bitter?" Rhys asks, suspiciously.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." I say, before I can sound further suspicious.
Honestly, Rhys, I don't know either.

Then my eyes trail back to the long black hair, and pale, muscular back. He's sprinting, weaving a football between his feet, more graceful than a fucking swan. Effortlessly light on his feet. He looks breathtaking. A slight gleam of sweat; pinched, perfect dark brows; lips curled. And he smiles devilishly when no one can block his goals. That smile. . What more reason would Agatha need to dump me in pursuit of him?

He's fucking perfect. And I don't know who I'm jealous of.