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"Shit. Bad date again?"
You can't see his face, but Kid has a shit-eating grin spread across his lips as he emerges from the driver's seat of his run-down pickup truck, a hand-me-down from your and Killer's uncle that Kid and his crew of metalheads use to drive to showcases in the city. He bangs the door closed, pockets his keys, then walks over to your seated ass on the curb.
"Shut up," you mutter. Kid sits beside you, and that's when you notice that he's holding a bottle of beer. He pops the cap open with his teeth, but you snatch it from his hands before he could take a sip. "You can't drink. It's late, and you're driving me home."
"It's just beer," he deadpans. Even then, he doesn't try to wrest the bottle from your hands, instead choosing to watch you take a depressive swig. He chuckles. "How was your shitty date?"
You glare.
"You asshole— how many times do I have to tell you that it wasn't a date? The beer tastes awful, by the way."
Kid is taken aback by your statement more than your aggressive manner of shoving the bottle toward his chest. The liquid sloshes around the bottle upon impact, and at that moment, the smell of bitter hops reaches his nose. He places it down on the asphalt and clasps his hands together.
"I got it from your brother. Blame him," he says. Your expression turns sour at the mention of Killer. "I would never risk a DUI while driving you home."
"Prince Charming," you tease. Kid is your stepbrother Killer's best friend, who you happen to be close with after many tag-alongs to gigs and shows in your city. Killer is convinced that you're closer to Kid than him with the frequency of your meet-ups and last-minute pick-up requests, and at the rate you're going, he's kind of right.
Kid sneers.
"Let's talk about your shitty date."
You roll your eyes.
"It wasn't a date."
"It looked like it to me. You don't wanna give the dude a chance? He sounded like a nice guy."
"Never in a million years. Anyone within a ten-mile radius from him would know that you're lying through your teeth right now." Pulling your knees to your chest, you gently lay your head on top of them. "I rejected him. He ran out of the diner as fast as he could. Thought everybody was pitying him because his ego couldn't take a rejection."
Kid smiles again, but this time wider. You went out with a guy tonight because you were too kind to reject his past advances, which more often than not attracted public attention when you didn't want them to. You tried to turn him down a couple of times before, but he couldn't get the hint. When he asked you out yesterday to dinner, you decided to reject him once and for all, with Kid and Killer's support.
Now that you've rejected the guy, Kid feels fucking fantastic. He hated him with his guts because he wouldn't leave you alone. Still, he loves to tease the fuck out of you, loves to play dumb and provoke you further, just to spark your enraged reactions because you look like a cute barking puppy.
Swirling his tongue in thought, Kid decides to pat your head with his big rough hand, ruffling your hair just a bit as he praises you.
"That's my girl. The next time he approaches you, try kicking his balls."
"Wouldn't that count as assault?"
"He harasses you, so what's the deal? Tomato, tomato; potato, potato. Defend yourself, please."
You laugh. "What the fuck?"
Grabbing the beer bottle, Kid rises from his seated position and offers you his hand. You stare at it, blankly.
"Come on, I'll take you somewhere you'll like."
You narrow your eyes at him.
"And where is that?"
"Answering would ruin the surprise. Just come with me, will ya?"
In the blink of an eye, you're Kid's passenger princess as he drives you to who-knows-where, an occurrence in your strange friendship that happens every so often when the both of you are left alone with a car full of gas. You roll down the window and make sure that no vehicle is passing by before sticking your hand out, feeling the wisps of cool air nip at your skin. When you move your head past the window, Kid hooks his fingers on your belt loops and pulls you back down.
"Fuck no, sit back down. No head-sticking, only your hands."
"But—"
"Your brother is gonna kill me if I bring you home headless. Hands. Only."
You stick your tongue out at him, but Kid only rolls his eyes. He lets you do whatever you want as long as you're not a second close to dying, often looking at you go wild in the passenger seat as he drives.
Minutes later, the truck slows down to a parking lot, a small rink built right in front of it.
You're the first to hop off, approaching the rink with blown irises as string lights scatter about to set a mood of warmth. It's not any other rink; it's a roller rink, perfect for rollerskating, perfect for two people to share a moment of intimacy.
"I'd much prefer iceskating, but this will do."
Kid holds up two skates in his hands, one of which seems to fit you nicely in a color you love.
You get on the rink as soon as you can, planting your feet on the ground as he hooks his fingers yet again on the loops of your belt. You sneer at him as he adds to your weight.
"Well, aren't you a big baby? Always leeching off me, never letting go," you say.
"Blah, blah, blah, it's a precautionary measure."
"You and precautionary measures don't go together."
Kid grabs you by the waist and turns you around, pushing you up against him. Your feet give up, but his hold on you is firm.
"Just like oil and water?"
You hit his chest.
"I hate you! Don't scare me like that!"
"That's what you get, brat." His lips morph into a grin while you hit him with weak punches. He laughs at your helplessness. "You get surprised by the simplest things. What I did right there was romantic for anyone but you."
"That was not romantic."
"What did I just say?"
"I hate you," you mutter. He laughs softly.
"Do me a favor and get yourself a guy who can treat you like that," he says. Your stomach turns, and your eyes fall to the ground. "You got a problem?"
"No, I don't."
You abruptly bump into him in an attempt to knock him over his feet, but he remains standing. At that moment, he traps you within his arms through a big embrace.
"So what's the hold up? Still stubborn?"
You punch his bicep as you squirm in the hug.
"You know why," you tell him.
"I do?"
"Ugh..."
You stop wriggling around. Kid feels something coming up.
You place your hands on his chest.
"You know why I don't want to date anyone else. You know."
"I know," he whispers. "So why can't you just say it out loud?"
"It's not that I can't say it— it's just..." You suck in a deep breath. "Is now the perfect time for it?"
"I don't know."
He guides your hands from his chest to his face, allowing you to cup his cheeks and touch them gently.
"But if you don't say it now, then when will you?"
A breathy laugh escapes your lips as you look at him. This isn't how you expected your day to turn out, but you aren't mad about it.
You like Kid.
You always have, and you know he likes you, too.
"I'll just show it to you."
You pull his face closer to yours and meet his lips. Kid leans further down to deepen your kiss, but he stays sweet and gentle, a complete 180 degrees from what people usually expect from him. The kiss is slow, like you've been meaning to do it for a long time and you don't want to rush the movement. Kid matches your pace perfectly, and he lasts longer than expected as he doesn't seem breathless when you pull away.
"Was that demonstration good enough?" you ask.
"No." He shakes his head. "I think I need another."
You hit his chest another time.
"Ouch, baby. You hurt my feelings."
As Kid feigns discomfort, you pull him close to your face again and peck his cheek.
"Do I have to say it?" you ask. "I love..."
He smiles.
"Nah, fuck that. Just show it to me. Took us long enough, honestly." He pinches your cheek. "I finally got you."
When he lets go of your waist, you race around the rink while he tries to catch you.
Something about your relationship with Eustass Kid is unexplainable, but it's the type of unexplainable that you're comfortable with, no matter how odd it may seem.