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“Let’s play a game.”
You cock a brow, choking back a strong sip of your drink, fresh off the bar counter. Jeez, that blue-haired chick spiked the crap out of this thing.
“What kind of game?”
Your acquaintance, Sebastian, is sporting the most dastardly possible grin.
He’s the son of your neighborhood carpenter, and just about the only human you’ve had contact with under the age of 40 since moving away from the city. A charming fella, if you find edgy, nerdy stoners to be charming… Unfortunately, you do.
And after you somehow got lucky enough for him to invite you out, and couldn’t resist saying “yes” to his obnoxiously pretty face. You hadn’t checked your luck today, but you can only assume that the spirits have been doing Yoba’s work.
Narrowing his eyes, he answers your question. “Chicken.”
Chicken? Memories of your childhood friends flood your mind. Stacking atop each other’s shoulders on a hot summer’s day, pool noodles in hand. Sunscreen and sweat and heavily chlorinated water making your grips slippery. Not a worry in the world, other than whether or not you would be the first to fall into the water below you…
“Like, the pool game?”
He laughs, “Not quite.” He sips his own beverage — the same thing as yours — unfazed by its strength. Show-off. “Let’s spend some quality time together.” Oh? “We’ll help each other with errands, do some cooking together, go on some adventures in the mines or whatever…”
“So,” the gears turn in your brain as you cut him off, “you just want to… hang out? How is that—”
He silences you with a raised finger, cutting you back off with his words. “First one to fall in love loses.”
“…What? ”
“You’re new, so you’re basically friendless, yeah?”
“Ouch,” you wince, although you can’t help the light laugher that escapes you. He isn’t wrong. You just got here, what, a week ago? “Yeah, I guess.”
“Are you single?” He endearingly wiggles his eyebrows, to which you roll your eyes.
“Yeah…” you grumble into your drink before bravely downing half the glass.
“Then it’s settled.”
“But still, how is this a game?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
_______________
You knew you were at a disadvantage when starting this stupid little “game” with Sebastian, but you had no idea how hard it would be. Of course he’s cute, so there’s no avoiding a crush on the guy. You knew that. But after spending so much time with him over just a few days, you’re hopelessly into him.
But you’ll be damned if you tell him that.
Sure, it’s probably cheating, but you have too much pride to just openly admit defeat so easily. And besides, who’s to say it’s love yet? Not you, you sly bastard.
One night at the beach, watching the stars and waves together, you ask for clarification. “What is love?”
He avoids the question, only singing the lyrics “Baby don’t hurt me, no more," in response.
Another day, while he’s helping you forage in Cindersnap, he cheekily asks, “Have you ever wanted to kiss me?“
Of course you have. But instead of answering, you sing, “K-k-kiss me, infect me with your love and…” etcetera.
It’s become a trend. Part of the game, if you will. Whenever either of you openly questions the other’s feelings, the rules of the game, whatever, the other person pulls a song outta their ass, turning the situation into an impromptu karaoke. It’s fun, but it’s only making things harder in the end.
The charade goes on for weeks. Neither of you have had the balls to call it quits, and you’re both feeling the consequences of this long-fought battle.
________________
“C’mere,” Sebastian mumbles from the other side of your couch.
You scoot over just a little, not daring to cuddle up. The two of you have only made light contact thus far, and you know you’ll probably come out as a big dirty cheater who lost the game forever ago, if you were to do so much as hold hands with the guy.
He whines, “More.” He reaches his arm out, signaling you to tuck yourself into his side. “I don’t bite hard, I promise.”
You glare at him. “I’m good.”
“You’re shivering, actually.” Ugh. He’s right. The central heating in your cabin hasn’t been installed yet, leaving the fireplace in the kitchen as your only source of warmth.
“Fine, whatever.” you snuggle into his arms, balling up your blanket over your cheeks to hide the fierce blush coating them.
As Sebastian searches through your movie options on Netflix, you’re able to slowly settle into his touch… although, the more you cozy up to him, the faster you can hear his nearby heart racing.
Maybe you fell for him first, but this is definitely the heart rate of someone who’s just as into you as you’re into them. Holy shit.
You giggle.
“Hmm?” he hums questioningly.
“Is your resting heart rate always this fast?”
No answer.
Your eyes widen at his silence. You peer up to see his own eyes wide as well.
“Oh my god,” you lean up, leveling with him.
He closes his eyes, “God damnit.”
“Oh my GOD.” Beaming, you cup his cheeks in your hands. His eyes are still shut but his face is getting warm. “I won.”
No answer.
“I fucking won!”
Still no answer. His eyes slowly open, staring back at yours. As soon as he sees your goofy smile, he mirrors it.
Not knowing what else there is to do at a time like this, you kiss him. He kisses back, and it’s as magical as you’d imagined it to be. His lips are soft, his kissing style as rough around the edges as he is. It doesn’t take long for tongues to get involved.
But it also doesn’t take long for him to crack the code:
With a light grunt and his eyebrows furrowed, he pulls away. “Wait, but if you’re this eager to…” he thinks aloud. You can almost see the lightbulb go on. Oops. “You didn’t win, did you?”