Once upon at time, I thought of the park as a place where you go because you're bored and your parents won't buy you toys. But as Oliver and I sat here talking and socializing, I'd realized that the park near our homes was more like a wasteland, "Why'd you bring me to the park?" I asked, the wind chilling my bones even more than before.

I was holding my own arms, rubbing up and down to persevere body heat when he rolled his lip into his mouth, pulling the flannel he was wearing off of his body and holding it out to me.

Oliver's shoulders went up in a shrug as he looked over at me. The faint nick under his eye was noticeable for the first time and I'd wondered when he'd gotten it. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as he tried to answer my question, "People won't judge here."

My hand reached and grabbed it, offering him a silent thank you as I shrugged it over my shoulders and my arms through the sleeves. It was soft like and it just felt like Oliver. Rolling my eyes, I smiled, "Oliver, no one was judging you-"

"Everyone was judging."

I'd noticed that we'd switched roles in caring, normally Oliver didn't mind people staring at him but he seemed a little jittery. Maybe I hadn't noticed anyone judging because of the fact that I felt like I was suffering from hypothermia. Or maybe it was just because Oliver was so captivating.

Oliver was on the swing, three less of a six-pack of Coke sitting on the ground by his feet as his converse skidded slowly on the wood-chips underneath him. He was staring towards the sky, his hands curled around the chained sides in the darkness, his pale face barely visible.

I rolled my eyes as I looked at him, my eyes adjusted to the darkness of our surroundings and barely able to make out his features. My eyes honed in on the flask that appeared from his pocket as he poured some into his soda that he was taking a swig from. He smiled, "Why are we here?"

He shrugged, "It was either this or skinny dipping." Yet again, he rolled his eyes when mine widened. He gave me a flat face as I looked at him horrified, I wasn't quite used to his joking, "kidding, kidding."

I amusedly lifted a questioning eyebrow, "I'm starting to think that you're fantasizing about me. I mean first you want to make out with me, Oliver I'm feeling quite violated-"

He chuckled slightly as he had done the day before in the cafeteria. His smile was about as intoxicating as the alcohol hanging from his left hand as he bit the side of his bottom lip, stuffing the flask in his pocket as if it'd hadn't been used in the first place. The soft stubble growing on his face looked rugged in the moonlight, Oliver Remmer was truly beautiful.

Don't stare, it's fucking weird.

But why did i care if he saw me staring? He'd already had this preconceived idea that I liked him.

I looked at the way he shifted the drink around, it almost sloshing out of the can as his hand remained curled around it, "Are you left handed?" I asked, my eyes lingering loosely on the tattoo that was visible from the time he'd pushed his sleeves up.

I saw him nod from my peripheral as he brought that cool aluminum towards his full lips again, the metal lip ring shifting to make room for it.

I'd never been more invested in learning about Oliver as I was that day and from the way he wasn't frowning and was engaging in conversation, I could tell he was starting to hate me less. I smiled, my hands intertwining in my lap. When he'd seen a car pull up across the street and in front of his house, Oliver stood almost tripping over his coke before righting himself. He saluted without a smile at the car with tinted windows.

Turning to me, he offered a small apologetic half-smile. His smiles were less rare I'd noticed as he awkwardly started walking backwards, eyes still on me, "I'll talk to you at school, Emerson."

And even that statement made me happy, he was starting to get used to my presence and didn't mind me as much.

I nodded before he turned around and walked, signaling the end of the conversation. Before I could stop myself, I called out his name before shouting a "Wait!"

Turning, his smile dropped, replaced by a look of confusion and then I elaborated. My feet hit the ground as I stood walking closer to him, a little embarrassed at my forwardness, "Um... What's your number? You know... In case you wanted to hang out again."

I rocked on my heals, the cool air soothing me for a change as I tried not to think about the way my cheeks darkened. Sighing, I watched as a cumulous cloud of air formed as he breathed, his perfectly shaped lips parting slightly.

I stuffed my hands in my pocket as his eyes dissected me and my true intentions as if he were afraid to release private information. Oliver Remmer was clearly a private person.

Rolling his eyes exaggeratedly after a while of awkward staring, Oliver sighed, "I didn't ask you to hang out, what makes you think I want to do this again?" He asked harshly but the smirk on his face have away his joking manner as he kept walking across the street.

For a second, I thought he was just going to ignore me and that was what I did think as he made his way to the vehicle, turning back around at the last minute as he stood in the middle of the street, uncaringly. He cupped his hands around his mouth before yelling out a '555-3469'

And I repeated that to myself until I'd gotten my phone out and typed it in, texting a quick 'and I was supposed to remember that... how?'And hit send as I grabbed the sodas and made my way down the street at around nine o'clock on a Friday night.

The smile on my face hadn't faded.

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"Jacky... let me help."

He was limping, his soda swinging from his hand as he made his way to the couch that already looked lived in. He was holding a bag of ice as he settled in the cushions, pushing it to his ankle that he'd propped up on a mountain of pillows. Jackson flipped on the TV a drop of water dripping from his hair onto his remote as he sat there seething. He must've just showered.

I'd had enough time to shower, change, and find out my brother hated me since I'd gotten back from the park.

Not looking at me once, he glared holes into the TV. He was sitting completely still, his gaze unwavering his fist clenched around the remote, it no doubt leaving imprints on his palm, "Jackson, come on. It was one game-"

That must've set him off as his head whipped to the side, eyes widening incredulously, "No, Em. I fucking needed you. You're my sister, I assumed that you'd be there to support me after you agreed."

I groaned, sighing to the ceiling, normally my brother wasn't all into his feelings but lately he'd been turning into such a girl. Throwing my head back, my eyes rolled, "Stop being so emotional-"

He continued staring at the TV, only his words acknowledging my presence, "You know how bad it is that not only do your own parents not care but your sister doesn't either?"

"Listen, I came, I just had to leave-"

My phone vibrated on the table, my hand coming out to grab it and Jackson glared at me as if daring me to touch it. Weighing my options, I retracted my hand slowly, him sitting back satisfied as he flipped the channel.

I didn't think he would speak until he did, "I saw you leave. You left before I even got a chance to play."

I attempted to speak but he just cut me off again, "Jacky-"

"Pass me a pillow?" He asked, motioning behind me with a defeated look in his eyes. Sighing, I grabbed one off of the one-seater and tossed it to him, him catching it swiftly before focusing on moving his ankle. He moaned in pain when he'd moved it too quickly, cursing under his breath with his eyes screwed shut.

Kissing my teeth, I walked a little closer, my hands coming up to gently elevate his leg as he stuffed the pillow underneath. He huffed, "Thanks."

I sat on the armrest, my shorts riding up a little as I turned to look at my brother, sympathetically. I almost winced at the pain he displayed when he shifted slightly, having to adjust his leg again. I silently prayed it was only a sprain as I would only feel guiltier, "What happened?"

He shrugged, "I was too busy thinking about how my sister ditched me that I wasn't ready to dodge a tackle. He was bigger than the fucking quarterback, Em. Bigger than the quarterback..." He was wining now, his face contorted in horror.

I sighed, "Jackson..."

"We lost and it was my fault, I was off my game," running a hand down his face he groaned, he seemed to be focusing his anger on himself than me now, "the team hates me."

Awkwardly, I patted his shoulder, "As long as you had fun-"

"I was humiliated on and off the field, I wouldn't call that fun." He looked at me, his eyes pleading, "Can you just... not talk to me? I just twisted my ankle and I have to walk with crutches for the next few weeks, I'm not in the mood for this."

After a while, I hesitantly nodded, grabbing my phone as I watched him make himself comfortable once again before flipping to Amazon and clicking on American Horror Story.

Making my way up the stairs, two at a time, I unlocked my phone. And when I'd successfully made it to my room, threw my laptop on my bed beside me and plugged up my phone, only then did I check my text messages.

'well, you had to have remembered since you texted it. God, you're so obsessed with me, aren't you?'

I felt the smile spread across my face as I stared at my screen for a few seconds, eventually my mind going back to work. Saving the contact as Oliver, I texted back, my finger hovering over send.

And I spent the next two minutes erasing and rewriting, my thoughts getting the best of me before I said fuck it and sent a simple, 'whatever. night Oliver.'

'Niht.'

I stared at my screen for a few seconds, confused until my phone buzzed once again.

'*night.'

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