Quinn For The Win // oliver wood

Chapter Eight

Julienne Quinn

Merlin's bloody arse. I knew the voice before I looked up, Merlin's bloody arse, I was a mess. Despite knowing who'd said the damned nickname, I still looked up, and met the surprisingly concerned eyes of my enemy.

He offered a hand, probably to lift me up or trip me. I shook my head and looked away. He couldn't see me like this.

"Go away. I'm fine." I said, partially muffled because of my face being buried in the stone wall of the alley.

Then he put his hand on my back. It was warm too, I don't know how, it was so cold. I fell for it. I looked back at it and then met his eyes.

They looked actually sad? For.... me? I turned back before my face turned red, my hair was a mess, my face was probably drenched in wet mascara, and blue eyes with puffy red eyelids from crying was not a good look. Oh yeah, I was also crying. My nemesis couldn't see me like this. Why was he trying to help me? Unless he was trying to get close with me to find out the team's secrets.

That last theory was something Roger had called a "game strategy" and suggested I do when I'd first told him about me being the captain. He was my most trusted and loyal player on the team, but a bit odd. I wasn't going to manipulate anyone, certainly not a friend for Quidditch.

But would Oliver?

"Leave me alone Wood"

I heard a sigh, and something hit the wall. He was now leaning against it, but I couldn't see anything from the way I was facing him, opposite his eyes.

"Julie, I'm not going to let anyone stay crying in an alley."

First off, that was a lie. I was his enemy, on a different quidditch team than him, even better, the Captain of a different team than him, and he wouldn't miss an opportunity to make that person miserable, mess up their mindset for the game ahead. Last year he'd bewitched the seeker's legs to be stuck together right before a game. He was competitive and considering whatever was between us right now, he had every right to see me like this and make it worse by laughing or something.

Second off, that nickname was absolutely atrocious.

"Don't call me Julie," I mumbled, face still buried in the sleeves of my sweater.

"What should I call you then. Not my fault your names are boring."

I rolled my eyes, more tears coming out with the motion. "How about you just don't refer to me at all,"

He snickered and then stopped. It was quiet, I was trying my best to not let any more sobs come out and he had actually shut up for once.

I felt a tug at my sleeve. A light jerk, then a grab, then-

He pulled me with so much force I actually stood up, and didn't stop. I looked into his eyes, just before shite hit the fan.

I toppled over and fell into his chest and we grunted as we slammed into the opposite alley wall. Together. Me buried into his chest and his arm still holding mine.

I walked out and he let go of my hand, and me. I looked to the floor. If my face wasn't red enough from being caught crying, it sure was. I couldn't look at him.

"Well, at least you're up. Maybe next time it could happen with less cuddling."

My head jerked up and I wiped the tears from my face in one swipe. "That was your fault, Wood. I don't see why you had to touch me."

Oliver huffed and folded his arms, his normally soft hazel eyes looked frustrated, just like mine were whenever we were together. "I was trying to help you,".

Not so frustrated anymore. "Why though?"

Maybe I hadn't realized it, or maybe I didn't want to, but we'd somehow gotten closer. Now we were both in the middle, feet away.

He ran his hand through his hair and looked around. He bit his lip a few times, opened and unopened his mouth, creased his eyebrows, looked around some more, then finally looked at me.

"Because, enemy or not, I still care about you,"

authors note:

decided to start doing theseee

kida losing motivation in this story. i just gotta keep up with it. its not going to be long anyways, just a cute-kinda angsty enemies to lovers fic

sorry its a short chapter but the next one is so cute i hope i write it soon