ukyt oneshots !

you should have known the trip would be a disaster from the start.

ten days in a villa in tenerife with your brother, his friends, and unfortunately arthur hill. george's flatmate. the bane of your existence. the self-proclaimed king of london, who never let you forget you were just george clarke's annoying little sister.

you thought the distance would help. different country, different rules, maybe he'd finally leave you alone.

but no.

arthur hill was the same in the canary islands as he was in london. cocky, loud, and always with some smartass comment ready.

like when you got off the train and there he was, already smirking.

'hello little clarke,' he said, dragging out the words like he knew exactly how much it wound you up.

you forced a smile. 'still as obnoxious as ever, i see.'

george rolled his eyes. 'please don't kill each other this week, yeah? at least wait until after the holiday.'

now it was day three, the sun already brutal even though it wasn't even noon yet. everyone was slathering themselves in sun cream like their lives depended on it. you'd finished yours and were watching them struggle, bored, until your eye caught arthur standing by the pool.

he was wearing stupidly small swim trunks and holding a mojito.

'bit early for that, isn't it?' you called over, snapping a photo with your little digital camera.

he turned, squinting at you. 'what, can't handle the sight of a man enjoying his holiday, little clarke?'

'yeah, i'm just traumatised by the sight of you in general.'

he grinned like you'd just complimented him. 'keep talking, you're obviously obsessed.'

you rolled your eyes, but your camera lingered on him longer than you meant it to. in the background, george and chip were mid-argument about something stupid, probably who could hold their breath underwater the longest. typical.

you snapped another photo before arthur caught you.

'you taking secret pics of me now? you want one for your lockscreen?'

'in your dreams, hill.'

he stepped closer, dripping pool water on your legs. you tried not to flinch.

'admit it, you missed me,' he teased.

'you're delusional,' you said, but your voice didn't sound as convincing as you wanted.

he noticed.

'we'll see about that, little clarke,' he said, voice low enough only you could hear.

you hated how your stomach flipped.

later that night, after too many drinks and an aggressive game of pool volleyball, everyone was passed out on the loungers, except you and arthur. you found him on the balcony, looking out at the sea, the glow from his phone lighting up his face.

'thought you'd be in bed by now,' you said, arms crossed, pretending you weren't looking at him too much.

'thought you'd be off telling george how annoying i am,' he replied, not looking away from the view.

you leaned against the rail next to him. 'you are annoying.'

he finally looked at you, and this time there was no smirk.

'you don't actually hate me though, do you?' he asked, almost quiet.

you opened your mouth to throw back some sarcastic comment, but the words stuck.

'no,' you admitted, barely a whisper.

his lips tugged into that stupid half-smile you pretended not to like.

'good. because i don't actually think you're that annoying either, little clarke.'

he stepped closer. your breath caught.

'arthur,' you warned, but you weren't sure what you were warning him against.

he leaned in. 'what?'

you hated him.

except you didn't.

you kissed him first.

and it felt like you'd been waiting to do it since the minute you met him.

608 words