P.S. I Loathe You

by Isla Olsen

“I mean, I know my sister loves him for god knows what reason, but if that guy is capable of giving a woman an orgasm, then I’m the fucking pope. I’d probably be better at it than he is.” Natasha’s face screws up. “Eww, are you suggesting trying to give your sister an orgasm?”

They could be some complete nutter living alone in a creepy old hut in Dartmoor, with nothing but a collection of ferrets to keep them company for all anyone really knows.

Before we go any further, I should probably tell you something - I’m only 14 and my parents monitor all my internet traffic.

WHAT????? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? How is that even possible if your best friend writes for an online magazine?

YOU ARE SUCH A FUCKING

“That’s not fair,” Rosh says, sounding a little disappointed. “I’m sure the noble toad has an excellent moral compass.” I let out a soft chuckle. “We are talking about creatures who copulate by jumping on top of any female that happens to be hopping by.” She considers this for a moment. “That does sound like Daniel.”

Oh, and I just saw Chelsea got trounced by Spurs to cap off

Eww gross! You’re a Chelsea fan?? I knew there was a reason I

Let me guess…Arsenal? You seem

I’M FOREVER BLOWING BUBBLES PRETTY BUBBLES IN THE AIR

West Ham? Seriously?? 5535856622 I’d offer to grovel with head, but the mere thought is making me gag and not in a

I wouldn’t want your gross Chelsea mouth around my cock

“Really? Another new piercing?” I finally ask, unable to stop myself. He fingers the silver loop in his bottom lip. “Yeah, we have a new apprentice at the shop who needs to practice piercings. It was my turn to be her guinea pig.” My face screws up in horror. “You let some untrained amateur just stick holes in your skin?”

We are a bunch of arseholes. Definitely only good for shagging if you

What, you couldn’t tell already? I’m all about the dick, mate5535657158

right. Maybe a more accurate term would be ‘frenemy’ - you are a West Ham supporter after all. We could never be ACTUAL friends with that standing between

“I get it, it’s confusing. The good news is I’m still allowed to put my cock in other guys’ arses even if I don’t walk around wearing sparkly hot pants and waving a rainbow flag.”

“Fulham-Man U. We don’t follow either team but we’ve got box tickets so it should be fun.”

“Let me guess—Gunners fan?” he asks with a smirk. I scowl at him. “Why the fuck does everyone think I’m an Arsenal fan? Do I have an actual dick growing out of my head?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I argue. “Devon Montgomery is not into guys.” “How do you know? Have you ever actually asked him?” she asks pointedly. “Well, no…” “If history has taught us anything, it’s that you have a horrible gaydar, Wesley.”

But the idea of Devon Montgomery genuinely being interested in having another guy’s cock up his arse, or down his throat, or really anywhere in his general vicinity outside of my imagination just seems ludicrous.

“So…that happened,” he says, sounding completely confused by the whole thing. Hey, join the club mate.

I can’t believe I let Wes Holt fuck me last night. And I can’t believe I loved it so much. And I can’t believe that, even now, all I can think about is having him inside me again.

Me: You know, usually when someone comes in my arse and then rushes out the door without even taking their shirt with them I get offended

Wes Holt: It happens that often? Me: You’d be surprised

Wes Holt: Maybe the prick had a reason for bolting Me: Such as? Wes Holt: An urgent game of shuffleboard

I let out an aggravated growl. “Just fucking fuck me you fucking bastard.” “Impressive vocabulary,” he says with a soft chuckle before finally removing his hand.

It doesn’t seem like a long trip, but I haven’t gone a full four days without sex for months now. I’m a little concerned my arsehole might close up out of protest.

“Wait—can you do that thing?” I ask as Wes reaches for the bottle of lube on my bedside table. He quirks a mocking brow. “That thing?”

“The thing…with your tongue.” “You’re going to have to be more specific. I do a lot of things with my tongue.”

I punch him hard in the shoulder, scowling. “Do you want me to lick your arse or not?”

Christ, I’m addicted to everything about him. But that doesn’t mean I fancy him. His arse, maybe. And his lips. And his tongue. But Devon as an actual person? Nope. No way.

I hesitate for a moment, trying to put my thoughts into words. “Like they’ve never wanted anything or anyone more than they wanted me in that moment.”

“I’ve never wanted anything or anyone more than I want you.”

“And I don’t mean just in that moment. It’s all the fucking time. If that’s something that scares you, I’m sorry but you’ll just have to get over it because I’m completely, utterly addicted to you.”

It’s absolutely mind-boggling to me, because this is Wes Holt. I hate this guy. There’s no world in which I should feel remotely comfortable in his presence, let alone his bed. And yet…I do.

I can’t tell him it’s basically the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. No way am I admitting that to Devon Montgomery.

“That’s what he said,” Devon mumbles, prompting me to let out a sputtering laugh.

Wes Holt: Jeez you’re jumpy! Me: What do you expect? You’re groping me in front of my sister! Wes Holt: This isn’t groping. I can show you groping 5535756841 Me: DO NOT show me

juice. “Drink your own bloody drink, arsehole. You’re not getting any more of my juice.” “Wow, did I tell you how sweet you guys are together?” Kira deadpans. Wes flashes her his megawatt smile. “Thanks, we really are, aren’t

I rest my own hand on top of Wes’s, sliding my fingers between his. He gently shifts his hand so his is palm up underneath mine before linking our fingers again. It’s such a simple gesture, but at the same time it feels monumental; like the first time we cuddled. Holding hands is just something we’re going to do from now on, I can tell.

“Okay, so you’re boyfriends.” “Whoa!” I hold my hands up to ward of that crazy notion. “We are not boyfriends.”

Me: This sucks. I can’t believe you got us in trouble with the teacher Devon Montgomery: You’re the one who tackled me! Me: I don’t like this. You’re too far away Devon Montgomery: I’m literally in the same room as you Me: I don’t like when we’re in the same room and I can’t touch you

But that isn’t really possible; he’s already told me that he’s heteroromantic, so as much as he might love being with me physically, I know I can’t expect anything more than that, even if I am starting to want it.

“Dev,” he rasps out in that deep, sexy voice that I’m struggling to remember why I ever hated so much.

I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this way about anyone before. And this is Wes Holt. The most infuriating, exasperating, migraine-inducing person on the planet; how does it make sense that he’s the one I’m falling for?

“Christmas, huh? Isn’t that something boyfriends usually do?” “I was thinking more…boyfrienemies.” He lets out a soft chuckle. “Is that a thing?” “Of course, it’s a thing!” “Okay then, what do boyfrienemies do?” he asks with an indulgent smile. “Well, they have really great sex, and they kiss, and hold hands, and go out. And they don’t do any of that with other people,” I explain.

I let out a wry chuckle. “So, I can swallow your cum and put my tongue up your arse, but licking the sweat from your neck is gross?”

“Alright, fine. Yes, for some reason that I’m finding absolutely impossible to fathom, I’ve managed to fall in love with you.” I smile. “Ditto.” Devon screws his face up. “Hell no. You’re not getting out of this by ripping off Ghost. Say it back properly!” I groan. “Do I really have to?” “Yes, you really have to,” he says, eyes narrowed. “Okay, okay.” I draw in a deep breath, steadying myself. “I sort of…maybe…” “Sort of…maybe?” Devon echoes, clearly unimpressed. “Okay, fine! I love you,” I blurt out. “There we go—don’t expect me to ever say it again.”

Yeah, I do love him; but it’ll be a cold day in hell before I ever admit that out loud again—sneaky bastard.