"Shit..." he hissed eyes screwing shut as I held his face gently, dabbing some rubbing alcohol on his cuts. His hands gripped my thighs, my cheeks heating and lips parted to suck in a breath.

It'd been around fifteen minutes since he's gotten to my house and i'd managed to wipe the blood off of his mouth, the imprint of his lip ring still there.

Changing the subject, my mind decided to deter to his actual bruises instead of my sexual frustration as I sighed. Analyzing the cut on his eyebrow, I frowned, "did you fight with your lip ring in?" I asked, hand brushing the spot before starting on his eyebrow.

"Y-yeah," he stuttered out trying not to wince again at the sting, "it hurt like a bitch."

"I bet."

"Fuck, Em," he said, accidentally pushing me away when is pressed too hard in a spot. My back hit the mirror behind me, shoulder knocking against the glass as he tried to steady me, "are you okay?"

Giving a slight smile to comfort him and erase his worry, I rolled my shoulder, ignoring the slight flutter of my stomach when he'd used my nickname, "'M fine."

"Sorry," he said with a sheepish smile, me pushing his hair out of his eyes as I bandaged his cut. To finish up, I cleaned the area around his eye, the smile never leaving my face when his hands purposely settled on my thighs.

He was getting better with physical contact.

⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄

If I didn't think inviting the antisocial Remmer to my house was awkward, I was hugely mistaken. My God, it was awkward and between us sitting on separate sides of the couch and the heated argument of my parents that you could hear through the paper-thin walls, I don't know exactly what kept him there.

"Who the hell is Karen, Rod?"

Oliver's eyes had widened at that, looking over at me as he thought I hadn't seen. The television was turned onto some show that neither of us had been watching, the main focus being on the yelling that was happening a floor away.

"My boss!"

Karen was a nice lady who often used to leave cookies on her desk whenever kid me and kid Jackson used to come with Dad to work (before we became second priority). With her apple cheeks and wedding ring, there was no way we was a homewrecker. My mother was absolutely and utterly wrong.

"You and your boss have cute nicknames?"

Out the corner of my eye, I saw Oliver stretch and when he tapped me on the shoulder, that was enough to make me nearly jump out of my skin. His tattoo was on display, his hair flat, and his almost transparent eyes were staring into mine.

Honestly, it was a little too much. His plump lips pulled down into a frown lightly as he studied me, pulling his hand away as if he were afraid I'd freak out.

Oliver furrowed his eyebrows, narrowing his eyes, "Are you- are you scared of me?"

And that was when my head whipped to the side to see if he were serious. We'd gone from me patching him up to me being scared way too fast but from the blank look on his face, I could tell he really wanted an answer, "Why would I be scared?"

"I'm crazy," he said as if it were common knowledge and the way he shrugged at that made my heart hurt.

My heart literally hurt.

"You're not crazy," I shook it off, body turning so I could face him properly, "Why do you think that?"

He leaned back on the couch, biting his lip, left hand reaching out to mute the TV as if he could tell this would be a long conversation, "I mean, the shoe fits."

"What?"

"I feel crazy, Em," he said as if he were trying not to have to explain himself. His self-accusations were absurd, "They all think I'm a psychopath and to be honest, it kind of fits."

"But what if they're wrong?"

He shrugged again, the action being a habit for him, "Then I've been living a lie..."

And that was when he turned his head to look at me, "You know, you've got to be the most interested person I've met. You're the only one who's more interested in me than my reputation."

"Because you're you not a label."

He seemed to be realizing something as we stared at each other, eyes ghosting over faces that held hidden discoveries and unanswered questions, "That's what I'll never get about you."

"What?"

Smiling at me, he bit the left side of his lip, "You never see bad in me."

He looked down with his eyebrows furrowed, hands resting in his lap as he faced me on the couch. And then he moved a little closer, eyes meting mine underneath wispy strands of his dark hair, "You became my friend because that's how much of a genuinely good person you are and I respect that about you. No one pushed you to do it and even when I pushed you away, you were still there. Thank you."

Dare, dare, dare, fucking dare.

I knew that it was morally wrong not to tell him but telling him would utterly fuck up everything that had been building between us.

We were getting closer emotionally and physically and neither of us seemed to be complaining. I surely wasn't when he leaned over, lips almost touching mine before I stopped him, "One question... Are those rumors..?"

His gaze on my lips was unwavering, "True?"

Shaking his head, he licked his lips before responding, "Which ones?"

My hand met his bruised cheek, thumb brushing over his lip. I tilted my head, a feeling of dread and hesitance encasing me, "Did your mom do this to you?"

Furrowing his eyebrows, he shook hi head. Obviously what I'd asked seemed completely insane to him which settled me, "No."

"You sure?"

He smiled, "I promise."

For some reason, I trusted that promise as my lips ghosted his, hands pulling him closer and lips meeting for a split second before my Dad's yell interrupted, Oliver falling back, terrified.

"She's like seventy-five, she calls everyone sugar!"

"So you're into cougars?"

The smile on my face was unwavering as Oliver blushed, kissing my cheek lightly before standing, "And that's my cue to leave."

"Goodbye, Oliver."

⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄

"Okay, if you could pick one food that you'd never run out of for the rest of your life, what would it be?"

He hummed, the sound coming clearly through the phone and shaking me to the core, "Red apples."

That confused me, "Really?"

I heard Oliver chuckle, "Red apples are my favorite."

I'd never seen a red apple on his tray before, "Wait, then why do you always get the green ones?"

"I accidentally got one that day you were with me," I could basically hear his smile, "You like the green ones and you never eat..."

"What're you, my dad?"

If this was flirting than it left a sense of moths in my stomach. Oliver's laugh vibrated through me just like it had at first. He was perfect, "Maybe-"

Elliot's voice was soft as I heard it through the phone, "Oli, mom wants the dishes washed!"

"Oli huh?" I asked, a smile gracing my face as I teased him, imagining the raised eyebrows he would give me in response as he would stifle a smile.

"Shut up, I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"Don't be too sure, I might pass out from the excitement."

I could hear rustling, "Excitement of what?"

"Well, the school body thinks we're dating now."

At this point in time, we'd both forgotten about the almost-kiss and I'd forgotten about the five bucks that almost stopped me from leaning in.

His voice was indifferent, "Is that really such a-"

"Oliver Julliard Remmer!"

"coming, mom! Goodnight, Emerson."

"Night, Oli."

And I found myself thinking that night about the possibility of Oliver and I.

Would that really be such a bad thing?

⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄⌃⌄

"This, although just a practice test, shows the intelligence of you narrow-minded individuals and will contribute to my first impression of your ability to comprehend the basic attributes of a teenager these days. I trust that, although you have below average test scores, you'll be able to learn from your impending failure and by the end, you will raise to the IQ of an average student."

It was a Tuesday night and instead of meeting at school, we'd met at a 24-hour library in the middle of town. I'd woken up late that morning with cramps and no ride to school, causing me to miss a day and truth be told, I wouldn't have came to the library either but with a look at my grade and an internal debate, I found myself in Oliver's car as we headed to meet kid-genius.

But the test in front of me hadn't boggled me as much as his explain had, "What?"

Oliver looked over at me, suspiciously glaring at Jeremy as he spoke, "I think he just called us stupid."

"What the hell, Jeremy?"

His eyebrows jetted up towards his hairline as he tilted his head at me, pursing his lips, "Am I wrong? It is my understanding that you're flunking Biology -the science that focuses on living things- seriously, I thought someone so narcissistic and full of herself would actually be passing something that's all about her."

"Cool it, man-"

Oliver and I weren't as awkward as I'd thought we'd be since the kiss-slip but there was something weird about him standing up for me. Trust me, it was cute and I appreciated it but Oliver never stood up for anyone.

Or so I thought.

"Oliver, its fine."

Jeremy smirked, "Listen to your girlfriend and hurry up and start, you have twenty minutes."

My eyes widened at that, raising up the packet. It was at least twenty pages and he was giving us less than half an hour to complete it, "Twenty minutes? This thing is thick as fuck."

"That's what she said," Oliver murmured, chuckling quietly when Jeremy sent him an unimpressed look.

I, however, was choking back my laughter.

One of the girls at a nearby table glared over at Oliver as if he were the one making noise, "Shh."

We'd started the test then, Jeremy starting a little chicken timer in front him and placing it on one of the desks. We were in the small study.

I saw Oliver bite his tongue as he hummed a tune resembling a Fall Out Boy song I couldn't put a name to.

He was adorable, his hair still flat on his head as if he didn't care to style it lately. Smiling at that, I pressed the bottom of my lead pencil, it becoming as sharp as I needed before I read the first question.

"List four mental illnesses that we've discussed this year and the main symptoms."

I didn't fucking know.

"What the fuck?" Oliver had whispered. He was already on the fourth page and I was still confused as fuck.

Skipping that question, I continued to move on with the pages, around ten questions that I hadn't known staggering me and when the twenty minutes were up, my hand was cramped and we were both nowhere near done.

"Can I get ten more minutes?"

"Are you serious? Anyone could have finished that," Jeremy chuckled. His head was shaking at my question as he rolled his eyes and slid our books towards him.

"Well, I failed."

Leaning back, I sucked in a breath as I noticed Oliver sigh, "same."

"F and F. This sounds like you're illiterate. Seriously?" Jeremy had said after a short period of time grading our suckish papers, "I would've thought that a self-diagnosed psychopath would be at least passing the one class that focuses on just how insane he really is."

I shook my head at that, arms crossed in front of my chest as I heard him mutter irrelevant things at Oliver, "Chill out, Jeremy. Aren't you supposed to be teaching us not ridiculing?"

"It's not ridiculing if I'm stating the facts."

Oliver shook his head before surprising me by laying his head on my shoulder. I jumped slightly before trying to get used to it. He must've been getting tired, "You're a jerk, man."

"And you're incompetent."

That plucked a nerve in the guy beside me as he sat up from leaning on my shoulder, "Don't."

"Or what? Gonna flip a chair, fasten a shiv, or maybe just maybe, you'll decide to stop being an asshole with an ego the size of Texas and fists where your mouth should be?"

Oliver gritted his teeth, fists clenching on the table as the hostility between them intensified, "Quit it."

I knew that if I didn't step in, things would get dirty but there was something I didn't know and some underlying message as they spoke. "Maybe if you grew up and realized that there are more important things in the world than your problems-"

Oliver's voice was getting louder as he stood, chair flying from under him, "Shut up!"

"You're going nowhere in life, you're a deadbeat, and you'll never amount to anything except ending up right where your parents are, dead or incarcerated-"

And that was when Oliver pushed him over a desk, Jeremy falling on the floor with a heavy thump and taking the desk with him.

"You're nothing but violence and quite frankly it's not a good trait to have!"

"I-I'm not... I-"

"You're stupid, you're inconsiderate, you're a loser with no filter or ability to think ahead and you always end up hurting someone."

And that was when he left, hands shaking at his sides as he grabbed the bag off of his chair that had hit the ground. He was gone by the time Jeremy had stood and I sent him a glare, standing and running after the dark haired boy.

I'd found him outside in his truck, smoking. His lips were parted as he blew the smoke out, leaning his head back, Adam's apple bobbing as his muscles contracted.

He was silent as I opened the passenger door, sliding I beside him and he was silent as we both say there for a few hostile minutes, the sound of nothing but his breathing and the gentle him of the engine.

I kept my eyes on the building in front of us as I spoke, "Wanna talk about it?"

I thought he hadn't heard me as he lent his head on his window. But surprising me, he spoke with a chuckle, "No."

We both knew that he reacted way too quickly for their conversation to be about the practice test and I wasn't letting it go, "Oliv-"

"Please, Emerson, just leave it."

My head whipped to the side, hair flying as I shook my head at him, "no." Smiling, I slid my left hand closer to his right that lay on the dashboard. As he didn't even flinch as my fingers interlocked with his, "I'm here for you and no matter what you say right now, I'll still be here for you."

He let out a shaky sigh as he bit his lip.

"Jeremy was my best friend."