Eight #2
“Try to stay behind me the best you can, this fight won’t be like the one you saw with him months ago. Or the ones you see with Rory.” Eli’s voice is hushed and hurried as he takes one last look around the pool.
“This guy is huge…” I whisper.
“You worried about me, pretty girl?” Oliver speaks over his shoulder but there is a light teasing to his voice.
He seems more excited than anything. He starts walking backwards as the guy that plays ref calls out to him.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t get a drop of blood on you.
” He winks at me right before turning around and Damian throws a punch before the ref can even officially start the fight. Blood sprays from Oliver’s mouth.
Oliver rights himself. Damian moves in swiftly but Oliver side steps and his elbow cuts across Damian’s face.
When Oliver’s knee is thrusted upward, Damian’s nose makes a thunderous cracking noise.
Oliver moves to give Damian room to stand back up.
And this crazy man laughs through the blood pouring from his nose and mouth.
Hunger dances in his eyes. He charges Oliver and locks his head between his arm and chest squeezing so hard I can see the veins pop in his forearm before he tosses him to the ground.
I don't think that is a legal move but then again this isn’t a sanctioned fight.
It’s The Poolhouse, where the rules are non-existent.
Oliver falls to the ground. He’s on his hands and knees and blood is now drooling down to the ground. I can see his chest shake from here as he recovers his breathing. Oliver lifts up from the ground and Damian anchors his foot into his stomach causing all the air to expel from his body harshly.
“Get up.” I gasp and jolt forward past Eli.
“He’s okay.” Eli’s voice mirrors the calm that he walks around with daily.
He sounds so sure, no doubt for his brother.
No concern for the blood that is decorated another layer in the pool.
He gently pushes me back behind him. “I need you to stay behind me though. He will lose his mind if you don’t.
” I try my hardest to not let myself consider the weight behind why Oliver would care.
My hands are shaking as we wait for Oliver to find his footing again.
He gets up and looks directly at me. He makes quick work of cataloging me from toe to head, to ensure I’m still okay.
It felt like long minutes but I know it was only a second or two.
He has no fear in his eyes. He looks the same as he always does.
Confident and unbothered. I lift my eyebrow, wordlessly telling him that he better not lose.
Oliver grins amusingly before shaking out his shoulders.
He closes the distance and throws a hard punch to Damian's ribs and follows it up with a left hook. And he doesn’t let up.
He steps forward with each new punch, guiding and pushing Damian backward until his back hits the wall of the pool.
I watch Damian’s head bob right before Oliver lands one final almost lethal punch straight down the middle and Damian falls directly to his knees.
Oliver doesn’t even wait for Damian to fall completely to the ground, unconscious from the blows, before he spins on his heel and stalks to the corner where I am still standing.
Eli hands him some water and a towel. “You didn’t even make it a whole round this time. And you kept the heat off your leg.” Eli praises him as he takes the other towel and starts to wipe blood from Oliver’s chest, only smearing it further.
“Here. Let me do it.” I steal the towel from Eli’s hand and the water from Oliver’s.
Wetting the towel, I dab away the blood that is already trying to dry on his skin.
I can hear Eli gathering the things behind us.
I fight the desire to look up because I can feel Oliver’s stare burrowing under my skin.
“Good job not losing. That would have been embarrassing.” The words fall off my lips without my usual sarcasm.
“You think your date was impressed?” His breath touches my lashes when he speaks. I didn’t realize I was leaning in closer with each swipe of the towel.
“Is that who you were trying to impress?” I glance up at him as I go to clean his face off.
His bottom lip is split and his left cheek is already puffy.
He’s covered in blood and sweat. His curls are so dampened that they are sticking to his forehead.
Yet I can still smell the cinnamon and mint that always accompanies him.
“You looked scared there for a minute.” His voice softens as he speaks now.
“Hope I wasn’t too much of a distraction for you.
” I repeat his earlier reasoning for snatching me away from my date.
I could call him out for being so obviously jealous, but that would mean bringing reality to whatever is between us and neither of us seem too keen on doing that. We like living in these moments.
“I think I fought harder because you were waiting in my corner.”
“My date is waiting for me.” I correct him while wiping the last bit of blood clean from his skin.
“Mia?” As if I summoned him to rescue me from making a mistake like kissing Oliver in this damn pool, Davey’s voice breaks the trance between us.
“I’ll come find you later and buy you your favorite drink.” Oliver promises before helping me up the ladder all while keeping that stupid hoodie, that I wish he would put back on, at the hem of my dress to cover me while I climb up and out.
Davey has the type of smile that makes you smile without realizing. We’ve been sitting at the bar for nearly an hour now and he’s been the most interesting date so far. He makes me laugh easily and he’s sweet. Unfortunately, he still doesn’t have what I crave.