one on one
EARNED IT BY THE WEEKND
I have no idea where I’m going. I just start walking, like I can outrun the sheer stupidity of what I just did.
You fucking bellend.
I kissed her. I finally fucking kissed her. And then I bailed like a coward.
What the hell is wrong with me?
So now I’m pacing the empty streets, replaying it in my head, like I’m going to find answers out here.
She kissed me back. She wanted it too.
And god, her face when I pulled away. The confusion, like she’d done something wrong.
I panicked. That’s the truth. I said goodnight and just walked away from her. Bolted like the world’s biggest prat.
I run a hand over my face and groan, stopping under a streetlight like I’ve reached a checkpoint in my personal humiliation marathon.
I glance at my watch. I’ve been walking aimlessly for an hour. I should just go home. I should go to bed and try to forget how much of an idiot I was tonight.
But I know that won’t happen. I’ll go home to my empty flat and stare at that photo until I can’t keep my eyes open.
The one of Addison, the girl who somehow crept through the walls I’ve spent years building around myself. The one who sees me for who I am—not as the footballer, or the captain—just Ollie.
I want her. Of course I do. I think I’ve wanted her from the moment she walked into our club, all soft eyes and iron will.
I want more. More of her laugh, her smile, and the easy banter that flows between us.
But I’m so scared.
I’m scared of what it would mean to fully let her in, to trust her with the parts of me I keep buried.
We already know the endgame. She’s leaving at the end of the season, so what’s the point of giving in now?
If you’re down 5-0 at halftime, you don’t come out swinging with offensive aggression.
You take your loss on the chin and live to fight another day.
And what scares me more—what if she doesn’t want this at all?
What if she doesn’t think about me the way I think about her?
I push that thought away. I know from every smile, every brush of her fingers, that she feels something too. She kissed me back, so I know there’s something on her end.
She has her rules. She put them in place to protect herself. But I can see it in her eyes—the hesitation. I think she wants this too, but she’s afraid to let it in.
I turn around, heading back the way I came.
I know what I want.
The ball’s on my foot.
It’s time to strike.
Within minutes I find myself back at her building, chest thudding like I played a full ninety. I memorized her access code to the building earlier, so I let myself in and head toward her door. I don’t hesitate. I knock once, and within seconds the door opens.
She’s still dressed from the bar—those fitted pants, that tank, her hair loose around her shoulders. Her boots are kicked off on the floor behind her.
She blinks, lips parting. “Oliver?”
“Fuck the rules,” I say, voice rough.
And then I kiss her. Hard, leaving no room for second-guessing.
I grab her waist, pulling her into me like I need her to breathe. She makes this soft, stunned sound against my mouth as her fingers fist into my shirt. She pulls me closer like she’s been waiting for this too.
I push forward, kicking the door shut behind us without breaking the kiss, and then her back hits the door and I cage her in. I brace my hands on either side of her head, my mouth never leaving hers.
Her hands are everywhere—gripping my shirt, sliding up my chest, curling around the back of my neck like she needs something to hold on to.
Her lips break from mine, and I press my forehead to hers, both of us catching our breath. I can feel her chest rising fast against mine.
“Addie,” I murmur. “Are you sure?”
She looks up at me, eyes wide and unguarded, and I see every moment we’ve had so far, wanting each other while pretending we didn’t.
She doesn’t answer me. She doesn’t have to. I can see it in her eyes.
She pulls me in, and when she kisses me again, it’s slower this time. There’s no rush. It’s just a yes.
Yes to this.
Yes to me.
Yes to us.
Her fingers push my jacket off my shoulders, and I let it fall to the floor without a care, my hands already gripping the hem of my shirt. I tug the shirt over my head and toss it aside. She bites her lip, and I swear I could lose my mind right here.
I slide my hands down the backs of her thighs and lift her easily. She wraps her legs around me, hands cupping my jaw as I carry her toward the bedroom.
The room is dim. The overhead light is off, but the lamp on the end table casts a soft glow. A candle that smells like vanilla burns in the corner. It feels like walking into a place I’ve been dreaming of for months.
I lay her down gently on the bed like she’s something sacred. She props herself up on her elbows and watches me with parted lips, chest rising and falling. I take a moment to just look at her. Not the polished, professional Addison. My Addie. Unguarded, real, and so fucking beautiful.
I kneel in front of her at the foot of the bed like she’s a prayer.
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” I murmur, placing my hands on her calves.
She shakes her head. “I don’t.”
My control snaps like a wire pulled too tight.
I unfasten her pants slowly, sliding them down her legs.
I press a kiss just above her hip bone, and she shudders, digging her fingers into the blanket.
I run my hands up her sides, slipping them beneath the fabric of her top, feeling the warmth of her skin.
She lifts her arms, and I pull the tank up and over her head.
Her hair falls back over her shoulders, and my breath catches when I see her laid out for me.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I say, meaning every word.
I unhook her bra slowly, brushing my thumbs over her skin like she’s art I’m not worthy of touching. I kiss her collarbone, my other hand slides down to remove her underwear.
I stand at the end of the bed, staring at her as I unbuckle my belt and push down my jeans. I want to take in every curve, every breath, every quiet moment of trust. I let her watch the way I look at her, like she’s something I never thought I’d be lucky enough to have.
She’s beneath me, gasping as my lips trace down the line of her neck to the swell of her chest. Her fingers slide into my hair like she’s anchoring herself, like she’s starving for this.
“Oliver…” she breathes, and the sound of my name in her voice, so full of need, nearly undoes me.
I roll a condom over my hardened cock. My fingers brush along her skin, and she shudders, her eyes fluttering shut.
“Look at me,” I murmur, voice low. “Look what you do to me.”
Her eyes open and lock with mine, and there it is again—electricity, need, like there’s no one else in the world but the two of us. I kiss her again, deeper this time. Her hands roam my back, nails lightly scratching at my spine.
I settle between her thighs, nudging her legs wider.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” I whisper, my forehead pressed to hers.
I insert myself into her, groaning into her neck as she settles around me.
When I finally move inside her, it’s like everything clicks into place. There are no rules. It’s just us.
She pulls me closer with every breathless kiss. I brace my forearms on either side of her, trying to hold it together, but then she wraps her legs around my waist, and I know I’m gone. She lifts her hips to meet mine and murmurs my name over and over like a prayer.
“Jesus, Addison…” I moan against her mouth.
She’s so tight. So perfect.
Her fingers dig into my shoulder blades as she arches up into me, her body begging for more.
“Oliver,” she gasps. It’s not just the way she says it. It’s the way she feels it, like this isn’t just physical, it’s something more.
I give her everything. Every ounce of want I’ve been holding back since the day she got here. It all pours out in the way I touch her, the way I kiss her, the way I move inside her.
She clutches at my back like she doesn’t want to let go, and I press into her like I never will. It’s messy, and beautiful, and so damn intimate that it almost hurts.
And then she comes, trembling beneath me, calling my name like it’s the only word she knows. What else can I do besides follow her over the edge?
I collapse against her, breathing hard, heart pounding, every inch of me aching. I press a kiss to her temple and roll onto my back.
For a long time, neither of us says anything. We just exist. Wrapped up in a silence that feels more honest than any conversation we’ve ever had.