dance for you ~fransykes~

21

We were sat side by side on a sofa in my dads empty office, knees touching, hands limp on our laps. When my dad said he was 'just popping into sign some things' I didn't expect us to be sat here, alone, for half an hour. The clock on the wall ticked methodically, filling the silence between us. Oliver hadn't spoke since we got here, and I hadn't plucked up the courage to talk either. His dark eyes were brewing with silent anger, making them appear almost black.

"I'm sorry." I gulp, finally breaking the air between us. He taps his nails against his thigh one by one before looking up at me from under his fringe, face barren of a smile.

"It's okay."

"You're mad." I observe. He doesn't disagree, simple shrugs and looks back down at his fingernails.

"It's not your fault, and there's nothing we can do. Just forget if, Josh." He sighs.

"I don't want to forget it." I whisper gently.

And I didn't, not the part where we kissed so passionately my whole body felt like it was on fire, or the feeling of his soft hands against my bare skin. The look in his eyes as I pushed him against the bed, his back hitting the mattress. And the smile on his face, bright enough to light up a whole room , making my chest feeling tight and my heartbeat go erratic.

That was until my dad walked through the door without knocking, to the sight of his son pinning another boy down on the bed, their lips moving together and their bodies half naked. Yeah, that part I defiantly could do with forgetting. The look of terror on our faces will probably be something we will laugh about in the future. Hopefully. I'm still not sure that Oliver and I will have a future together at all.

As if my dad walking in on us about to sleep together wasn't embarrassing enough, he then insisted that we both went with him to his office and then out for ice cream together afterwards. Oliver and I obviously tired to decline, but my father wasn't having any of it. The thrill in his eyes when my cheeks turned red in humiliation was nauseating.

Throughout the drive to his office he kept asking Oliver questions, making the car feel more like an interrogation room than a moving vehicle. Oliver answers all of his questions politely and vaguely, never speaking more than a few words at once. He kept wiping his palms against his jeans, an indicator that his hands were sweating just as much as mine.

Now we were sat in my dads empty office waiting for him to get back, crammed together on a sofa that was defiantly not designed for two people. Even with our legs pressed together we hardly fit, and Oliver was so close that I could feel his body moving up and down every time he so much as breathed, which wasn't exactly helping the fact that I was still slightly sexually frustrated.

"Sorry for all the questions my dad threw at you in the car. He thinks you're my boyfriend." I laugh, trying to lighten the mood slightly. It doesn't work, in fact I'm pretty sure it makes Oliver even madder. His arms are crossed across his chest now, neck bent down so that I can't even see his face.

"Did you tell him that I was?" He asks, his voice blank and completely unreadable.

"No...he must have just assumed from...what he walked in on." I cringe, stuttering all over the place like I usually do in Oliver's presence. He somehow manages to make simple tasks like breathing and talking so much harder for me when he's around, and now we're alone it's even worse.

"I've told my parents about you." He admits, making me blush dark red. He's told his parents about me? In what way? He's hasn't told me much about his family yet, so I'm still pretty much in the dark about what they're like. I know that they're not very well off and that his parents really want him to go to university, but nothing else really.