Sincerely, Emily ✓

08 • On Your White Horse?

"HE'S BACK?" she asked incredulously.

"I saw him like, two weeks ago, Val. And you've never seen him at all?"

We were at the Coffee House and I had just recapped on what happened that day. Val was the one who picked the place, and honestly, I wasn't quite fond of it anymore. I was actually suggesting for Pies 'N' Stuff, but she said it was, I quote, an "old people cafe." I wanted to laugh because that was the exact same thing I thought before Oliver took me to that little place of heaven. 

It was suppose to be a relaxing evening, but Val had directed the conversation down a different road.

"I was hoping he wouldn't be back this year," she murmured. "He missed a whole month!"

"I guess that was why I found him in the principal's office."

She exhaled a sigh. "Is he still giving you a hard time?"

"It's basically his life job."

"Well, at least you have Oliver."

I narrowed my eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing." She coughed. "It's just that he can be intimidating if he wants to be. Plus, you guys seem pretty close, so — "

"We're not close."

"Oh, really?" she teased.

"Valerie," I warned.

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

Half an hour later, we decided to part ways. Val got picked up by her mom, and when they offered to drive me home, I rejected. I didn't want to cause any trouble. So, I got on the local bus and made the trip back to the outskirts of the neighbourhood. The bus could only go so far, so I had to walk to my house. After a few steps, I hadn't realise how tired I was getting. Every fibre and muscle in my body was as stiff as a stick.

"Hey, Watson!"

Oliver was riding his bike, the wind whipping his hair. His eyes were as vibrant as ever, and the sunlight made some strokes of his brown hair appear gold. His grin was both pleasing and troubling, because when he grinned like that, he was thinking of a plan. And his plans had a habit of going wrong.

He stopped in front of me. "Want a ride?"

"Save it," I panted. "I can walk a few blocks."

He rolled his eyes. "Come on, Woods. Just pretend I'm your Prince Charming or something."

"On your white horse?" I snorted, looking pointedly at his worn-out, rusty bike.

"Hey, you just gotta belieb."

I tilted my head. "You mean believe."

"That's what I said. Now get on."

I gotta admit, I was getting pretty exhausted. My muscles were practically screaming. So regardless of whether I liked it or not, I sat behind him. The seat was enough for two people, but it was still a bit narrow.

"Hold on tight," he said in a mischievous tone.

"As long as you don't go fast, I don't really need — AAAHH!"

Without warning, he pedalled faster than a bullet, and by instinct I wrapped my arms around his torso. I had no doubt that he was probably smirking, but I didn't care because we were on full speed. The road of the neighbourhood was kind of downhill, and to make it worse, my house was at the very edge. When he slowed down, I put my arms back to my sides, but when he sped up again, I had no choice but to hug him again.