Who: Katie and Oliver What: Sex and fighting Where: Puddlemere Facilities When: Monday afternoon Rating: SEX and LANGUAGE
Quidditch was usually great at cheering Katie up and helping her burn off her anger. However, today's practice had been bloody murder and she wanted it to end every second she was in the air. Facing Oliver after their very regrettable night in bed together was mortifying, angering, and another thirty or forty emotions that went through her. She'd ignored him most of the practice and had spent the rest aiming at his overly large head. The obvious tension between them hadn't gone unnoticed but as Katie and Oliver regularly got into it, nobody really seemed that surprised.
Ignoring him in the locker room was easy as everyone wanted to talk to him after practice. Katie yanked her towel out of her locker and stalked past him, avoiding his gaze and the broad chest that went with his perfectly fit body. She probably spent more time in there than she should but she hoped everyone would be gone by the time she got out. It was hard to not think about him and everything that had transpired last evening. With a groan, she turned the water off and wrapped a towel around her and stepped out.
It was quiet and she gave a grateful sigh. Oliver would be up in his office and she could just leave without having to deal with any of his idiocy. Bloody arse. After fifteen years of friendship, she assumed she'd at least be treated a little differently than a bloody bint groupie. Opening her locker, getting ready to change, a noise caught her attention. Turning around, she caught site of Oliver.
"Fucking hell," she muttered, letting her head bang against the door.