chapter two

It had been a month and a half since Oliver had seen Carson Katsaros.

Okay, so that was a lie. Oliver had seen his face in the halls--to which Carson had always grinned at him like they were old friends and Oliver had always hastily looked away. School had started now, and Oliver sort of wanted to bash his head against the Empire State Building, but he figured that he probably wouldn't die from that.

Maybe brain damage was better than nothing.

There was a swim meet today, and usually, there were a couple of students who would go to the pool and watch. Oliver had never been one of those people--he didn't like water, or the idea of drowning, or people--and Oliver had never thought that he would be one of those people.

That was until Celia Orlov had come up to him.

She grinned, and it was then that Oliver realized that he didn't know why he was friends with her. She pissed him off. To be fair though, in a world where most people pissed him off, she pissed him off a little less. "Livvy!" she exclaimed when she saw Oliver, throwing her arms around his neck and causing him to stumble. She was quite a bit shorter than Oliver, and the top of her head just barely touched his chin, causing him to get a mouthful of hair.

Oliver rolled his eyes and pried Celia's hands away from his neck. He glared at her. "Do not call me Livvy, understand?"

The corner of her lip lifted up into a lazy smirk. "Whatever you say, Liv."

Celia Orlov had been Oliver's sort-of friend since eighth grade. Well, truly, Oliver didn't have any friends. Celia was the closest he'd had. He figured that was okay though, because she never appeared to have any friends either.

She showed up every once in awhile with mischief twinkling in her eyes and a stupid idea in her head--one that she usually made Oliver act on with her. Otherwise, she really wasn't there. At first, Oliver had found it weird. He didn't see her in school or in class or anywhere--as if she disappeared. And then, after a week or so, she would show up once again with another plan. Eventually, Oliver had gotten used to her impulsive and mysterious tendencies, and they had a mutual unspoken agreement--Oliver wouldn't ask, and Celia didn't have to worry about telling.

They weren't the usual type of friends--they didn't braid each other's hair or tell each other secrets. Simply put, he was Celia's adventure partner whenever she felt like going on an adventure. Oliver secretly didn't mind as much as he pretended to.

Celia reminded him of an eagle. Calculating, powerful, and vicious when provoked. Her auburn hair hung loosely around her shoulders, tucked inside of a beanie. A glint of metal shone along her eyebrow, a curved barbell put in place where it usually was. Her sly brown eyes were dark and menacing and almost seemed to smolder, boring into Oliver's eyes, under the lighting.

She swung her arm into the crook of his elbow, linking them together. "It appears that it's your lucky day." She said as she dragged him along, making him stroll next to her down the hallway.

"Another plan?"

"Well, yes. Sort of. But don't worry, we're not going to set Mr. Kumar's plants on fire again." She gave him a knowing glance. Mr. Kumar was their freshman world history teacher, and he had lulled them both to sleep on multiple occasions. "You see... I was thinking of you." Celia continued.

"Gross."

Celia made an irritated sound in the back of her throat. "Not like that. I was thinking of your inner despair."

Oliver's brows crinkled. "My inner... despair?"

"Precisely. You know, how you're still in the closet and such?" Celia winked at him.

Oliver rolled his eyes. He rolled his eyes too often. Celia was perhaps the only person that knew about Oliver, and it wasn't because he told her. He had never found out how she knew. He assumed it was because she'd probably caught him gawking at Carson on more than one occasion. Though Oliver never confirmed or denied it, she probably eventually had gotten the hint. She was too perceptive for her own good.

Oliver let out a heavy sigh. "The answer is no before you even open your mouth."

"Relax Livvy. We're not going to sneak into another guy's house again. This time we're doing something perfectly tame. Boring, even." She yanked Oliver back, causing him to jerk to a stop next to her. "How do you feel about attending a swim meet?"

Oliver's face crumpled. "A swim meet? Why would I want to attend a swim meet? I don't even like sports."

"Idiot." She murmured under her breath. "Your boy toy, Connor--he's part of the team."

"His name is Carson."

"Whatever. I'm helping you out here. You can watch Connor and drool, and maybe even talk to him. Absolutely foolproof," explained Celia.

Oliver narrowed his eyes. Celia, Oliver thought, never really did things for the benefit of other people. It was usually only to entertain herself. "What do you get out of this?" he asked.

She batted her eyelashes innocently, something that strengthened Oliver's belief that she was anything but innocent. "Why would you assume that I want something?"

"Celia."

"It's a small favor, really, compared to all that I'm doing for you." She told him.

"You're not doing anything for me. It's a public event. Anyone can attend. If I wanted to go, I could've gone, with or without you. What do you want?" Oliver told her stoically.

Celia ignored Oliver's blatant rudeness. She was used to it by now. She grinned at him. "I need you to drive me somewhere."

Oliver's mood soured immediately. He hated driving with a passion. Oliver got bored easily, and his focus would always switch to something else. The last time he tried to drive had been his driver's test, and he had almost failed. "Where?" he asked, just for the sake of asking.

"Maine," Celia said, wincing slightly.

Oliver laughed loudly, catching the attention of everyone in the hallway. "Maine. You have to be kidding. That's like eight hours away."

Celia stayed silent.

Oliver's laughs died down, and his expression quickly morphed into a scowl. "You're serious, aren't you?" Celia smiled at him in response, and Oliver grit his teeth. "Why can't you drive?"

"I got my car taken away after my fifth accident." Celia chuckled. "Besides, I doubt I could survive the ride with my track record."

"I don't even have a car."

"Take your parents'."

"Do you want me to die?" Oliver asked. Just the thought of seeing his parents' expressions made him cringe. "Why do you have to go to Maine, anyway?" Oliver asked exasperatedly.

She shrugged. "It seems cool." Oliver shook his head and began to walk away, but Celia gripped his wrist lightly. "Please Livvy? I really want to go and no one else will drive me. It's a great deal if you think about it. I go with you to the swim meet and be your wingwoman, and you drive me to Maine."

Oliver folded his arms across his chest. "That's a terrible deal. I don't even want to go to the swim meet, and I definitely don't want you as my wingwoman. And I hate driving. Besides, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't be any safer in a car with me."

Celia pouted, pushing her bottom lip out. "Livvy. Please."

Oliver stared at her puppy dog expression. His shoulders slumped. He was a complete sucker. "Fine. But only if you stop calling me Livvy."

Celia held out her hand for Oliver to shake. "We have a deal, Livvy."

***

Oliver was at the stupid fucking swim meet.

He would say it was against his will, but a bunch of fit, shirtless boys didn't sound so bad to him. Though, there was only one fit, shirtless boy he wanted to see.

Carson.

Celia dragged Oliver into the stands in front of the large fifty-meter pool. She sat down and yanked on Oliver's sleeve, getting him to sit down next to her. There were a few other students dotting the stands--girlfriends, friends, siblings, and boyfriends. Well, only one boyfriend. It was the boy's swim team after all, and Nico Allard and his boyfriend Nicky Samara were the only gay guys that the school knew about.

Oliver wondered how many other people were closeted like him, for there only to be two gay people in their huge high school.

Celia nudged him and jerked her chin to the right. Carson was coming out of the boy's locker room with his friends, though Oliver could only recognize the two boys who had been there on that fateful, ice cream-filled day. They were usually with him though, as part of his tight-knit, five-person friend group.

If Oliver was telling the truth though, then he would say that he wasn't really paying attention to anything or anyone besides Carson. Part of that was due to the fact that it's Carson, the person that Oliver has had a crush on for almost three years. The other part of that was because Carson--handsome, charismatic, and unfailingly perfect Carson--was shirtless.

Oliver stood up. "I have to go."

Celia wrapped her hand around Oliver's wrist and yanked him down. "You're not leaving because you're horny, sit down."

Oliver felt a stirring in his gut--some would describe it as butterflies, but to him, it felt like an entire hailstorm. He stuck his sweaty palms into his pockets. His eyes flickered all around the room, looking at anything but the shirtless bodies--anything but the shirtless Carson. The boys were beginning to stretch their limbs while Oliver admired the decor of the pool room.

Holy shit, Oliver thought, I'm pathetic.

For one second, Oliver let his eyes land on Carson and he felt his heart leap into his throat. Carson was stretching his hands over his head, accentuating his very nice physique, all while smiling and laughing carefreely with his friends. His eyes were bright and happy, and a wide grin adorned his face.

He was so beautiful.

Celia grinned and nudged Oliver again. "Your gay is showing. Anyone within a three-mile radius can see the love on your face."

Oliver scowled. "Can we leave?"

Celia shook her head. "You look like you're having a great time." She attempted to repress a grin.

Oliver had stared at nothing but his hands the entire time the swim team stretched and warmed up in the pool. Celia shook him out of his reverie, informing him that the meet was about to start. Oliver didn't know anything about swimming or swim meets, but he assumed that all they did was dive into the pool and swim back and forth.

It sounded easy enough, in all honesty.

The other school's team had entered and set down their things. Oliver sighed. He had never liked sports, and he really didn't know what could be so interesting about watching people do things. It was the same with reality tv or cooking shows. There's no storyline--you just sit and watch. Oliver could think of better things to do with his time.

One team sat along the wall on the right side, and the other on the left. One boy from each team walked up to their corresponding starting blocks. The representative from their school was one of the ice cream truck boys, though Oliver had never seen the other guy before. They stood upon the elevated board and positioned themselves. When the whistle sounded, both boys jumped quickly into the water.

***

Carson was amazing.

Oliver didn't know what he expected, but somehow, Carson managed to exceed his expectations. Then again, Oliver didn't doubt that Carson always defied expectations.

He was one of the fastest swimmers on the team--stamina and energy seemed apart of him. He had definitely won the race against the other team, and he was the last swimmer in the relay, catching his whole team up and helping them to win. If Oliver thought that Carson was going to be named team captain before, there was no doubt now.

When Carson touched the wall of the pool before the other team did, the few witnesses that were in the stands erupted into loud cheers. The swimmers crowded around him, congratulating and thanking him. Carson put both his hands onto the floor in front of him and pushed himself up, swiftly getting out of the pool.

Oliver held his breath. He hadn't allowed himself to admire Carson like this before, but now it was all he could focus on. Lines of muscle were prominent along his abdomen and his arms and legs. His golden skin shone with water that dripped down to the floor. His hair was soaked and flopped over his hair messily. Carson messed with it a bit before leaving it be. It stuck out in different directions, and Oliver felt his heart swell. Carson grinned--that smile that lit his eyes up and caused the skin to crinkle around his eyes. His whole face gave the aura of happy, and Oliver felt his mood lighten just looking at him.

He was achingly beautiful.

Carson Katsaros wasn't beautiful in the way that roses or the views of the Aegean Sea were. He wasn't the type of attractive like that--where people explore miles and miles and take millions of different pictures to get the right one. Carson was beautiful in the way that happy moments were beautiful--or choirs or the steady sounds of violins. Only certain people could appreciate his effortless beauty. Carson sort of reminded Oliver of an angel--almost too beautiful to look at. Almost too perfect.

Oliver would've been jealous if he hadn't already realized that a beauty like that didn't fit him. He would never be effortlessly beautiful--he would never be the star swimmer, or an unfailingly polite person, or one of the smartest people in school. Oliver could never be perfect like that, because sometimes he thought that he was put on earth to make people angry. He wasn't soft, and cherishable, and he never would be. He would never be like Carson.

It befuddled him, almost. He grew up knowing that people weren't perfect--that he wasn't perfect--and that no one could be. He knew that people were always going through something. He grew up keeping that thought at the back of his head whenever he looked at someone. And Oliver liked to think of himself as a good judge of character. Not once had he ever met someone like Carson. Sometimes, Carson scared him. He could breathe, and all of Oliver's thoughts would be thrown out the window as quickly as a flash of lightning. So, naturally, he always had to wonder. What could Carson Katsaros possibly be going through, and how does he get past it without a tear in his facade?

Carson talked animatedly with his teammates while Oliver stood up to leave. There was no point in staying--everyone was leaving now anyway. In reality, he had no idea why he was here in the first place. Oliver thought that perhaps it was because he wanted to talk to Carson or some self-conscious bullshit like that, but there was no way he'd actually do it again--not on purpose.

"Where are you going?" Celia asked him, following Oliver as he was climbing down the stands.

"Home?" Oliver responded, a bit puzzled. "What did you expect me to do?" He was down now and walking by the pool to get to the exit. The pool took up virtually all the space in the room, so it was impossible not to be by it while leaving--something that unsettled Oliver, and irritated his lack of affinity for water.

Celia lunged for Oliver's wrist to keep him in place. Oliver swiveled around to meet her dark gaze. "Talk to him." Celia insisted.

Oliver yanked his wrist out of her grip and crossed his arms over his chest, scowling. "This is pointless Celia, you and I both know that I'm not going to talk to him and that I had no intention to."

Celia bit her lip as her eyes flitted around the room. "Okay, I'm sorry."

Oliver cocked his head to the side, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "For what?"

"For this."

Oliver only caught of glimpse of Celia's apologetic expression before she put her hands to his chest and shoved him into the pool.

---

A/N: Whoops I left you all on a cliffhanger. My bad ;) It seems you've met Celia Orlov. Feelings? Opinions? Chapter coming soon!

Xoxo,

A Shadowhunter Wannabe,

herondaledevices <3