Games We Play
Title:【 Games We Play 】
Author: NIL » allseeingusagi
Story: Project Airhead
Flavor(s): Chocolate 13 » humility | Banana Cream 7 » hush
Toppings/Extras: N/A
Rating: T for Teen (lawdy that language!)
Word Count: 2'152
Notes: You ever feel off about your writing? That's been me with my entire life lately. Not dead but incredibly dead like. Feeling kind of iffy about this one, so feedback definitely encouraged.
“It's rather rude to keep a lady waiting,” the blonde greeted.
The brunet pulled his messenger bag off and let it weigh down his arm. “You don't seriously believe in that, you?”
“Of course I do.” Her tone was light, joking. She reached up, wiggling her fingers, and placed a hand on his shoulder. She maneuvered him closer towards the driver's chair. “Now, I've got a game for you. Road Crashers 2.”
“I heard that game sucked.”
“On console, maybe,” she agreed, “but at the arcade, in its truest form, it's the best.”
“You're making this sound really magical.”
“It is.” She pat both of his shoulders quickly. “I'll buy you a hot dog. I'll be right back.”
“Whatever.”
He brought his hands up to the steering wheel. The pads of his fingers rubbed over the smooth, faux leather before dipping around to the back. The equidistant finger holds were too wide for his fingers, but the wheel was still comfortable to hold. He adjusted himself in the chair, eyes leveling to the screen. Road Crashers 2: Race with Fury zipped onto the screen. The tagline faded into and out of sigh with calculated slowness. Insert Coins was at the bottom center of the screen. The dark ash grey background was criss-crossed with fading lines of red and blue. Some green lines glinted into view. He snorted. This really had a nostalgic feel to it.
Instead of inserting his - her - game card, he waited for the demo to load. The track was on the mountainside. A high raise of earth was to the road's left with a guardrail protecting drivers from the steep drop to the right. The body of water - ocean, large pond, he wasn't sure - glinted from the sun rays. For a game with such a cheesy name, it had some decent graphics. It wasn't high-res, but hey. He wasn't exactly picky about things like that.
The demo car was a white sports coupe going against a beat up red supercharger. It rattled hard and loud. The sports coupe revved its engine. He moved his right foot away from the gas, pressing his foot against the air instead. A large “3” took up the screen. It was almost time.
2…
1!
Ready?
His eyes widened slightly. He was glad he wasn't racing for real. The supercharger to the right rattled again, visibly shaking. The engine protested loudly. The exhaust let out a sharp pop. “False start!” appeared over the opposing car. “GO!” flashed onto the screen. “-3” was barely visible before the white car began down the course. He steered the wheel, pretending to be in control all the while. By the end of the race, the white sports coupe swerved over the finish line, just in time to see the red opponent race by.
The title screen loaded again. Now he felt motivated to play. He reached into his pocket, looking around as he did. Where was she with his hot… He paused in his motions, squinting off to his right. At the top of the small stairs were three guys and a curly haired blonde. The brunet set his jaw and closed his eyes, uttering a sharp curse. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and snatched up his messenger bag instead, hastily making his way over towards her.
One of the guys was tall with red-brown hair and visible, brown freckles on his right cheek. His thick arms were crossed over his chest, his head tipped to the side as he stared down at the blonde. She met his gaze unapologetically, but her lips were pursed. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips, chest puffed out like a damn bird. There was movement in her peripheral vision. She glanced over towards it. A smug smile set on her lips as the brunet stepped forward. She pointed at him.
“You wanna cause trouble? Cause trouble with him. He'll answer you.”
“I'm sorry?” The brunet's brows creased and raised at the same time. He shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Y' dame ran into us with a fuckin' hot dog,” the tall male stated. He pointed his thumb towards the blonde.
“I said I was sorry, you ass!”
“Yeah? Well, sorry don't cut it. What if you got mustard on me?” He motioned towards his clothes: immaculate. Disheveled but immaculate.
“What? I've more mustard on me than you do!”
The brunet gave her a once over. It was true. His clothes were spotless, but the blonde sustained some superficial damage. Mustard dotted the hem of her shirt and the top of her stockings. She pointed at him again.
“Are you going to start something, buddy?”
“I don't know.” The trio turned towards the brunet, who turned his incredulous look onto them. “Am I?”
“I don't fuckin' know, are you?” He snapped. He rolled his eyes before closing them. “She said sorry. You don't have mustard on you. Quit being a baby.” He opened his eyes, tilting his head to the left. “If you're still worried about your old timey clothes, then I'm sorry to tell you, Emperor. You're not wearing any. Trouble over.”
He bent down and swept up the food item with his left hand. Neither of them were going to get it. That much he knew. With his other hand, he grabbed the blonde by the curve of her arm, jerking her close to his body. He turned his attention to the other male and his friends.
“And no one says 'dame' anymore. You guys need a fuckin' upgrade.”
They gave him a look but then dismissed him with another. The tall, freckled male turned around and started chatting with his buddies. He was already on the fast track to moving on. The blonde in his hold huffed, but was quiet. The brunet pulled away from her and shoved the hot dog into the trash. His companion headed back to the snack vendor. She half-heartedly told the seller that she had dropped hers, ordered another, and requested a clean up. When she turned around, her tall 'hero' waited for her.
“The hell was that?”
“What was what?” She turned her head away.
“You trying to get me into a fight with three guys. Over a fucking. hot dog.”
She shrugged. “They were going to get rough with me.”
“Oh, so you offered me up instead?”
“You're a guy,” she pointed out. “You're supposed to keep girls from getting beat up, especially by other guys.”
Those words stopped him. He stared off at nothing in particular, his gaze raised high above her height. The menu was visible, but he couldn't read it. He was processing her words. The vendor glanced between the two when the silence fell, and the blonde waited expectantly for his answer. She turned only when she heard a “here you go, miss”. The brunet closed his eyes, coming back to himself.
“You think I'm supposed to save you because I'm a guy?”
“Well what was I supposed to do? Fight him?”
“The guy's a moron! And you are too if that's your first thought.”
She narrowed her eyes at him but thrust the food towards him. He started at it with contempt. “Don't drop it,” he muttered hotly before taking it from her. The two headed over to sit at one of the high tables. The messenger bag was pulled off his shoulder again and left to rest beside the high legged chair. The blonde crossed her arms on the table.
“You have no sense of honour.”
He was about to take a bite when he spoke. He lowered his hot dog. “What are you mad at me for?”
She stared at him pointedly.
“Don't get into fights just because I'm around. I'll leave you to fight by yourself.”
She genuinely looked appalled. “You wouldn't!”
“Of course I would. I didn't start the fucking fight. You know, people out there don't care if you're a dainty little flower.” He wiggled the fingers of his free hand, putting on a mocking tone. “But if you try to drag me into a fight, I'll leave your ass.”
The blonde spoke softly. “But what if he did something?”
“Then I would have kicked his ass!” He retorted confidently, taking a bite of his hot dog.
It was hot and a bit greasy, but this was a good dog. He appraised it with a nod of his head. His friend sat to the side, staring at the table. Her curved brows were knit together with distress. Her fingers curled against the surface of the table. Her entire life looked changed. Flip turned upside down one would even argue. Midway through his hot dog, he couldn't bear the heavy silence anymore. He set down his food and turned towards her.
“What's wrong?”
“No one's ever rejected me like that before.”
“First time for -” He bit back the hard comment that was building up. He shook his head very careful, eyes closing. “What do you mean?”
“I've always had guys walk me home, carry my stuff when it was heavy, handle guys like that when it came down to it.”
This was real. This was actually happening. He stared at her blankly, keeping all emotion away from his face. His words came with the same dead tone.
“You sound spoiled, princess.”
“I'm not spoiled!” she snapped. Upset worked deeper into her features before falling away. “It's just what guys are meant to do.”
His look never wavered. He could tell that this was surprisingly hard for her to get a grasp on. She steepled her fingers, taking in a shaky breath. He was briefly worried that she was going to cry and rifled through his mind for some comforting words.
“You sound spoiled, princess.” He absolutely found nothing.
Her quickness caught him off guard. She moved in a flash. Her small hand curled into a fist and slammed right against his bicep. She narrowed her eyes at him; frustration was taking hold now. He sucked in a breath between his teeth, sliding away from her slowly. She pressed her hands against her face and sighed deeply.
“You're taking this hard,” he stated.
“Very,” she replied with a hard emphasis on the word.
He glanced down at the half-eaten food and then back to her. “Thanks for the hot dog…?”
“You're welcome.” She looked over to him with a small smile. “And thanks for nothing.”
“Look, I got you out of that fight.” He pointed at her but spoke flippantly. He sat back and grabbed his food. “Don't start complaining about the 'how'.”
She laughed, distracted. “I guess so...”
He gave a firm nod of his head and ate the rest of his food, trying to ignore the lost look on her face. Looks like that tall guy wasn't the only one who needed an upgrade. He lowered his gaze, pushing the thought of either of them out of his mind. He ate quickly and dusted his hands over the container. He half-debated on getting another but assumed it would only add to her current mental anguish. He stood up from his chair.
“You owe me two rounds of Road Crashers 2,” he stated, bending down to get his bag.
A smile pulled on her lips again. “Two?”
“One for dropping my hot dog. One for putting me through that...” He stopped and thought again. He waved his hand dismissively. “Fuck that, you owe me four.”
“Four?” She huffed back with a laugh. “We'll be here all day!”
“And I'll walk you home to make up for it,” he snapped, crushing the container in his hand. “Hurry up already. Quit moping.”
He trudged past her to the trash can. When he came back, she was standing. He handed his crumpled napkin over to her. She took it, mouthing 'thank you', and dabbed at the mustard stains. They lifted, but they left remnants. Nothing a good wash couldn't fix anyway. He briefly wondered if she knew how to do her own laundry.
He took the napkin from her and crushed it into a smaller ball. “You're not wasting more of my time,” he muttered. She just laughed at him and shrugged. She was slowly coming back to herself. They walked back towards the stairs in the direction of the Road Crashers 2 machines. He lifted up his hand, motioning it towards the trash can before changing his mind. Her brows lifted when his hand went to the right instead. The tight wad of napkin hit the tall male on his forehead. He closed his eyes, collecting himself.
The blonde laughed in surprise before looking up to her friend. He didn't look down to her. Instead, he placed his hand on her head, ruffling the flaxen locks.
“Don't get distracted,” he stated. He moved his hand to his pocket and pulled out her game card. “Remember: this is on you.”