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Scary had never seen the Teen High soccer field this energetic before.
That’s a lie. She’s seen it this full of life before, but it’s different when it’s not for you. When you are a part of the crowd, it feels like something so much more. No way to focus on just the game when she’s in the bleachers.
She takes a seat on the cold metal bench next to Taylor. He was dead-set on initiating her in the way of being a supporter after her seasons away from the pitch.
Over the corner of her shoulder she feels someone’s gaze on her, so many people’s eyes on her. The prodigal daughter who dared to leave them high and dry.
“Stop looking around like that!” Taylor says, “You look guilty as hell!”
“Sorry.” Scary bites the inside of her cheek. “I just feel like people are going to be mad at me.”
Taylor nods sympathetically. “Because you quit right before we went to state championship. I too would be fearful of scorn if I ever made that kind of mistake. But lay off the guilt, that was three years ago! Most of those chumps graduated!”
The words ring through her brain, forcing her to remember that today isn’t about her and she breathes a sigh of relief. She’s a supporter, not on trial, and she focuses her attention on the cheer team.
When she was a player, she never focused on the cheerleaders or Teeny. That was probably a bit ironic, because they were there to support her, but she didn’t know any of them so it felt shallow.
But she knows Normal, and kind of Erica, so she cheers when they walk out onto the field and practically fly up into a pyramid. It’s flashy, but it’s supposed to be, and that makes it kind of beautiful. Normal as Teeny is doing backflips and the crowd is loving it, and she’s just happy thinking her friend is happy.
“I bet you ten dollars that one of them is going to fall on their asses before this game is over!” Taylor whispers in her ear. “Especially that one!” He points at a freshman boy who looks terrified.
“Even Normal?”
Taylor laughs. “No way! Love Normal, but he’s the clumsiest man on the planet! I’m not trying to rob you!”
Scary raises her eyes. “Whatever you say. I say we raise the bet though, I’ll keep your bet and raise a second one. Ten on Normal not eating shit and falling over. He’s been wearing that suit for years! No way he doesn’t know it like a second skin.”
Taylor throws up his hands. “Guess you want to be out twenty dollars, prepare for defeat!”
She scoffs and refocuses her attention on the field.
The cheer team is slowly filing out of the field and onto their section of the sidelines. A low drum beat sounds out through the stadium, inviting the players out of the locker rooms and onto the field.
Her eyes scan through the players, carefully dancing around the ones she used to practice with, for the other person she was here for.
Before her brain even registers her eyes find Lincoln she is grinning, unabashedly from ear to ear. He is facing towards the stands, blatantly basking in the energy of the first game of the season, and despite how big the stands are, his eyes find hers, and he waves in her direction.
Hesitantly she waves back, and he smiles before running to his position on the field.
Her heartbeat speeds up and her brain gets fuzzy and she suddenly needs to sit down very badly. Scary puts her head in her hands and silently wills a sudden blush to go away, to regain any sense of normalcy because she couldn’t spend the entire match fawning over Lincoln Li-Wilson.
The crush had reared its ugly head at the start of their junior year. They had spent the entire summer after saving the world doing absolutely nothing, lounging around at each other’s homes. Her entire brain was on vacation, so she didn’t realize why her hand longed for his and the pang of disappointment she had whenever he bailed on plans to be with his dads.
That fall, she tried to go to a soccer game, and she almost made it into the bleachers, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Link, juggling a ball on his knees, with the stupidest grin on his face.
Scary was overcome with the overwhelming desire to kiss him stupid.
Instead of facing her feelings, she ran off, and threw herself into writing and producing Butthole Ricochet’s debut into the music scene, using it as an excuse for why she couldn’t go. And for the entire season it worked.
She was such a coward.
Now, she doesn’t have that excuse. Her album had been released and was a success, but the absence of it as an alibi had left her vulnerable to being dragged to outings.
Taylor unfortunately is a massive fan of soccer, which leaves her forced to confront her past.
Deep down, a small part of her had hoped that her crush on Link had died in the year between seasons, but tragically, evidence proved to the contrary.
Her eyes are hyper focused on his every movement. His muscles tense everytime he blocks a shot, his arms outstretched slightly, in a defensive manner but her mind keeps supplying them giving her a warm, bit too sweaty embrace. It should be gross, but the idea of it makes her feel weak in the knees. The idea of all of that pressing her against like a wall with the strength of someone who could crush her but the gentleness of someone who would never is intoxicating.
Her body is overwhelmed.
She needs water. Yes, water, it will cool her down and then she will stop feeling so hot.
Scary’s legs carry her from the stands down to the concession stands, only stopping slightly to give Taylor a curt nod. Her eyes were pointedly away from the field, only eyes for her mission.
She spent an entire year on a quest for objects to save the world. She can go five minutes without getting distracted.
As soon as she chugs from the cup and finds ice to chew on, she dares to let her eyes dart back to the field. Her eyes scan across the field, unable to find focus on her guy, only to find the field empty of any sign of Lincoln.
The sound of the coach’s whistle brought her attention to the stands next to her, where she saw Link, emerging from the field, stretching only ten feet away from her.
The water had done nothing.
Being close only made her feelings more in her face. When he wipes the sweat away from his brow she can see the muscles glisten and the sigh of relief on his face. It takes all of her self-restraint to keep herself from biting her lip cause fuck how is he even hotter? She wants him and it is ruining her life.
Link takes that moment to look over and notice her cause of course he does. “Hey Scary! How are you liking the game so far!”
Scary cannot say anything. She cannot think beyond being hyper-aware of his calves, toned to perfection, why are they just out like that is he trying to kill her.
“Scary?”
She jolts up. “Yeah?”
He tilts his head and flashes an apprehensive grin. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah! Totally, I’m having the time of my life man.” Oh she sounds like such a fucking loser right now. She needs to stop objectifying him, that was not going to help anybody.
But Lincoln only gives her a dopey smile. “I’m glad! I know we aren’t as good as when you played, but I hope it’s entertaining!”
If only he knew.
“I’m having a good time!” She says.
“Perfect! That’s all I ever want.” And he continues his stretches, lifting his arms above his head, lifting just a bit of his shirt with it.
And you can totally sue her, but Scary never said she was more than human, she’s going to peer at the strip of skin. If she happens to daydream about it later while staring at the ceiling and remembering how warm he is to the touch, she’s not.
When she looks at him her heart stops, but for a different reason.
Despite being best friends, they have never had a beach or pool day. Most of this happens to be because Normal does not know how to swim, but it is not helped by Taylor, who spends the entire time perched on the side, watching as an unofficial lifeguard. Point being, she's never had the opportunity to see him with his shirt off.
Link was attractive, which is not surprising, but what is surprising is the sheer amount of scar tissue covering his torso. Her hands feel a strong phantom tingling that she remembers from casting eldritch blast.
She had assumed that healing would have gotten rid of the scars, but clearly she was wrong.
All of the guilt she had let go of in years of therapy floods back into her, and her hand flies to her mouth, thinking that for a moment she was going to hurl.
Why did she assume she was good enough to think she had a chance with him, she would never be anything other than the girl that betrayed them, and that scar will be an ugly reminder of that for the rest of her life.
She’s only Link’s friend on unearned forgiveness.
“Are you okay?”
He’s looking over at her, worried, oh no she worried him. “Of course!” her voice cracks, “I think I just ate a bad hot dog or something and now I might have food poisoning! Which is fine, but I might need to sit down!”
“I’m so sorry!” he says too genuinely, “Do you need to take something? It’s not much but I keep a small first aid kit on me for game days, so I can check if there’s anything you can take?”
Scary forces a smile. “I think I’m good for now! I’m with Taylor anyways, so if anything goes wrong he has his go bag.”
Before he can say anything back, she’s already darting away from the sidelines to the stands. The further away the better, she needs to banish this obsession.
Taylor thankfully, seems to be doing something interesting. He was hunched over scribbling something in a tiny notebook, brows furrowed in concentration.
“What are you doing?”
He looks up, a wicked grin on his face. “I am running a secret underground betting ring on the players of both teams! The money may only be candy, but the stakes are real!” He waves the notebook furiously in her face. “I am taking note to make sure that no one tries to take any loot on payout day that is not rightfully theirs!”
Scary sighs relieved, this she could handle. “So you take candy from strangers, but you are fully going to try and scam me out of twenty dollars?”
“Two different games entirely, my dear Scary! For you, this is personal and will not be going on any type of resume. The leagues? Well, I’m planning on making my way up to high stakes gambling, and I can’t put this on an application if it was anything monetary! They’d accuse me of being in the game for the money not the love, and the underground gambling scene is cut throat Scary! Cut throat!”
Taylor sure is going places. One of those places might be jail, but he sure was confidently going to get there.
He is good at providing a distraction though, because Scary finds herself listening to Taylor’s twisted game for the rest of the soccer match. A small worry in the back of her brain kept trying to alert her to the guilt she possessed, but it wasn’t enough. She has the thrill of the game, and the thrill of screwing Taylor out of money.
With ten seconds left in the second half, the scores are tied, but Scary has her eyes firmly focused on the cheerleaders in the stands, who were aggressively waving their pom-poms. No one had fallen over the entire game, and she was trying to get one over on him.
Inching slowly closer in her seat Scary intently watched Normal, begging him to remain upright for just a little bit longer, though it was looking dire. She heard Taylor snickering as he tripped into a line of cheerleaders. One by one, they fell like dominoes in a line, until they were all on the ground, leaving Teeny as the sole survivor.
“Well, well, guess even I can be proven wrong every once in a while,” Taylor says as he takes the ten dollar bill from her hand. “... actually, since we did both win one bet, we are back to square one… so I guess this is yours?” He silently hands her back the same bill.
No further distractions, she glances back to the field, just to see Lincoln kick and score a goal, just as the buzzer sounds out, announcing the end of the game. Cheerleaders, Teeny, and friends flood the field to congratulate the team on their victory.
Even though the results of her bet left her with zero money taken or gained, Scary can’t shake the feeling of loss settling deep into the pits of her stomach.
Link looks so happy, and everyone is celebrating him, as he should be. She should just let him have this.
Taylor darts out of the stands to join the crowd, giving her the opportunity to make her get away. No one even glances back at her, so it’s not much of a task. It was foolish to ever think they were going to care what she did.
Scary begins the trek back to her house in silence. She had been thankful for the ride Taylor gave her at the time, but now that she’s walking the mile home in the midday sun.
By the time she makes it back to her house, she’s as sweaty as she used to get when she played. Her shirt is sticking onto her body like a second skin, and her mind keeps telling her to peel it all off and give her some room to breathe, to be alone, and force this crush out of her.
“Hi Scary! How was the game!” Terry’s voice sounds out from the living room.
She walks in to see her dad, lounging on the couch, soda in hand, watching a youtube video Scary can only imagine is titled ‘most inspirational soccer shots of the 21st century’ given how teary his eyes are. “It was good. We won.”
“Good to hear! How was Lincoln? I know he’s been practicing up a storm all summer!” Terry turns to see her, eyes full of excitement.
“Lincoln was great! Scored the winning goal… so proud of him.”
“I’m surprised you're home so early, after wins we usually would sneak off and celebrate!” He looks over at the clock, “You didn’t even get dinner?”
Scary purses her lips. “No, yeah, I just am so sweaty. Yeah, I forgot to put on deodorant this morning, it’s so gross. I must be hanging around the Oaks too much, am I right? So I need a shower.”
Terry frowns slightly. “...Okay. You should go and do that.”
Another adversary, foiled. “Good talk Terry, I’ll see you later!”
She runs up the stairs to her bathroom and slams the door shut, finally alone. The reflection of herself in the mirror looks disheveled, her crop-top is falling off of one shoulder and her fishnets snagged and have a tear in them, perfectly matching the tears she feels in her heart.
With a press of a button her speaker she keeps turns on, loudly playing some emo playlist she found a while back, echoing through the bathroom. She turns the knob on the shower to just the slightly uncomfortable side of hot on the dial, and sinks into her sadness.
The shower is usually Scary’s time for being creative. Not many people were aware that she conceived many songs from her album in this state, but it works for her, she feels safe, and alone with her thoughts and voice. But even in this space with the water cascading down her back, she can’t retreat to that place of creative energy, every thought is tinged with her emotional biases.
The blast blew a hole bigger than any surgeon could patch. Maybe I should rescind myself from your life, so that you can meet another match. Another person to fulfill the spot I only wished I could.
Scary’s thoughts circulated in her head until her skin turned pink from the hot water. She peels herself from the shower and smears the fog off the window. She lets out a sigh of relief, succumbing to the comforting loneliness of self isolation.
Just as she puts on her “for home only” sweats, she hears a quick knock at the door. “Hey dear?” Terry’s voice sounds from outside the door. “Your friends are here, they said they’re picking you up to go to Sonic’s? I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that part if you get me onion rings on your way home.”
The guys came to get her? Why? Aren’t they already having a good time? She pulls out her phone and sees a string of text messages from them asking her where she went, and finally one from Lincoln saying they were coming to get her to go out for dinner.
What the fuck?
Scary sprints out of the bathroom past Terry to the front door, wrenching it open, finding herself face to face with one Lincoln Li-Wilson. “Haven’t you ass cracks heard of waiting for a response before showing up unannounced? I was in the shower!”
He still has the glow of post-game rush on him, but changed into shorts and a sweatshirt. He looks cozy, but says nothing, Link just stares at her, dumbfounded.
She sighs heavily at him. “What is it?”
He looks her up and down, which only makes her feel like she’s being dissected. “You look different? It’s not bad!”
“Uh-Yeah?” Scary stammers, remembering that she did run out halfway through her routine. She is painfully aware of the loose elastic on her shorts and her hair wet with water droplets slowly falling onto her shoulder.
The two of them stare at each other. Scary tries to move, but her mind and her heart can’t make up which way to go, so she stays in the doorway, feet melted to the ground.
Behind her, someone clears their throat. Terry steps up next to Scary and looks Lincoln dead in the eyes. “Everything good here?”
Lincoln nods curtly. “Of course Sir. I am just seeing if Scary wants to come out to Sonic with us.”
“Are you sure you want to go out right now Scary?” He gives her that concerned parent look, the one that wants to know she’s not forcing herself to go out of her comfort zone. “You seemed pretty tired out earlier kiddo. If you want to stay in you can.”
“Shoot! I forgot you said you weren’t feeling good!” Link interjects, “I’m so sorry, I’ll tell the guys you aren’t feeling well.”
No, she can’t make him feel sad again. “I’m better now! The shower… It cured me! Just let me put on real clothes and then we can head out.”
Terry puts a hand on your shoulder. “You sure?”
She scoffs. “Yeah Dad. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay then! I’ll keep Link here company while you get ready!” Terry says, in a tone that implies too many embarrassing father stories for her liking.
Scary sprints back up the stairs and tries to put on something halfway decent. For a moment she considers re-applying all of her goth makeup, but she just took it off and it would take way too much time, by then Terry will probably have shown Lincoln all of her baby phones and that cannot happen. So nicer sweats will have to do.
Lincoln looks so uncomfortable when she makes her way back, despite being a whole foot taller than Terry, he’s shrunk so much that Terry is actually looming over him. The latter seems to be interrogating about his soccer skill with such vigor Scary could assume he was at the game himself.
It makes sense her dad would know how to absolutely embarrass her.
“Hi, I’m ready to go,” she says as nonchalantly as possible. They take a few steps out of the threshold before taking a step back. “Don’t worry Dad, I’ll be safe!”
“And?”
“And, I won’t forget the onion rings!”
Terry gave her a thumbs up before shutting the door, presumably going back to his sports binge session.
Link stares at her, like he wants to ask something but doesn’t know how. It’s incredibly infuriating, she can’t read his mind!
“What is it?”
He looks up in surprise, his face flushed from being caught. “Huh, uh, nothing.”
She just looks at him. “Whatever loser, you promised me food, let’s just get the food.”
Lincoln inherited his dad’s Nissan Quest when he finally got his driver’s license, and even if it was an ugly car, she couldn’t imagine him driving anything else. It’s clearly been lovingly cared for for years, just like the person who drives it.
As she opens the door, Scary sees the sight of one Normal Oak pulling one Taylor Swift through the space between the two front seats. “The fuck is this?”
Normal looks up at her and gives a half-hazzard wave. “Oh! Hey Scary. Taylor and I wanted to give you shotgun, so… we’re trying our best.”
“Try harder!” Taylor says, regripping Normal’s arm. “If you are not using all of your strength, you are failing me and yourself!”
“Taylor can have the front seat,” she says solemnly, “I don’t need it.”
She feels the gaze of three pairs of eyes on her, and some part of her brain tells her she said something wrong, she didn’t fight for it enough.
“But Scary…” Taylor gestures off into space. “The schedule!”
Taylor and her had a schedule about who got to ride shotgun in Lincoln’s car, as a result of how many of their arguments ended with Normal needing to heal someone. The two of them took the schedule very seriously, and neither of them had ever dared to go back on it.
“Oh, yeah sure. I’m going to take it, I was just joking before.” She slides into the seat and settles in.
On a given day, most of the windows in Link’s car are going to be rolled down. Link likes it because it gives him good circulation and the wind gives him white noise that he claims helps him focus more than listening to music or a podcast. Taylor mostly rides in his mom’s convertible and thinks that having windows closed is an affront to him personally. Scary doesn’t care either way but if Normal has his down, she will put hers down to complete the vibe.
Normal puts his window down when he smokes. Today is one of those days.
As they coast down the road, Scary turns to look at Link. She loves shotgun because she can stare at him all she wants, and knows he won’t look back at her because he’s too much of a goody two-shoes to keep his eyes off the road. His arms are tensed and his brows are furrowed in deep concentration. She commits every movement and stressed exhale to memory, watching him while biting her finger.
In the backdrop she hears Taylor and Normal arguing over something, but it’s all noise.
“Are you doing okay?” Link whispers to her over the ruckus.
Immediately, Scary drops her hand, trying to force the awe out of her expression, even if there's no way he can see her. “Yeah. Perfect.”
The two of them ride in easy silence until the familiar red and blue logo comes into view.
“Who's going to order the food?” Lincoln states as they pull into a spot near the back of the parking lot.
“Not it!” Scary sounds out. “Not eighteen and I didn’t bring my fake with me, don’t feel like getting busted by the narks.”
“I drove here, I don’t feel like getting out.”
Taylor gives a look. “But you're the only one of us who is actually old enough to legally go in there, Lincoln.”
Link cracks open a soda and starts sipping it. “And? I know you have a license to buy hardbound hentai Taylor. Use it.”
With a huff Taylor slides open the door and marches his way to the front door.
Scary slides in her seat so she’s facing Normal, still smoking his cigarette. “Can I take a hit?” She reaches her hand out.
Normal puts it out the window and shakes the ash off before carefully passing it over to her. She places it between her lips and takes a quick inhale, pleading with her lungs not to cough and give her away. Smoking isn’t really something she enjoys personally, but dumb fifteen year old Scary wanted to be one of the cool smoking seniors so here she is.
She turns to look at Lincoln, who is staring at her with such intensity she visibly startles, either out of shock or embarrassment that he knows she’s a poser, she doesn’t know, but she wordlessly hands it back. Norm places it in his mouth and takes another long drag.
Out of the corner of her eye Scary can feel Lincoln, daring her to look back and make eye contact with him. Her desire to make him happy wins pulls her towards him and she is faced with an unreadable expression.
What he’s upset at, she’s not exactly sure, he’s seen her smoke before, this is nothing new. But some part of her worries he’s peered past her and now sees something he doesn’t like.
“I have returned!” Taylor’s voice sounds out. “Hot dog for me, Burger for Scary!” he says passing a bag to her, “chicken nuggets for Link-”
“Thanks!”
“-and meat lovers combo for Normal!” Norm takes the bag with a thumbs-up and starts digging into his greasy burger.
Taylor scrambles into the back seat and tears open his meal, flinging fry crumbs everywhere. The rest of them eat in the near silence.
Twenty minutes later Link takes the Quest back on the road, beginning the drop off.
“Norm, can you send me the textbook questions for stats class?” Scary asks absentmindedly.
He snorts. “You know I definitely forgot mine.”
She does know, of the four of them, the two of them were the ones who have been slacking off the most, partly because they didn’t need to worry about studying, and partly because they had given up on school.
“Oh well, that’s Miss Mulberry's problem, she should know the kids who take statistics are the ones who don’t care about math.”
Lincoln sighs. “I can send both of you the homework.”
They continue to drive down the long San Dimas roads, dropping off Normal then Taylor till it was just the two of them, for the first time, all day. Scary’s heart is beating aggressively faster and faster, and she can’t wait to be free, to go back to her room and deteriorate for the weekend.
Unfortunately, as they rolled into the Marlowe-Stampler driveway, the rational part of her brain activated. “Damn it! I forgot Terry’s onion rings.”
“Huh. Okay” Link says as he pulls back out of the driveway, not even stopping to let her get out of the car.
“... What are you doing?”
“I’m taking you back to Sonic. I have nothing else to do tonight, so might as well? Plus, your dad scares me a bit, he kept asking if I “was taking after my father” in a tone I don’t want to be the subject of again, so for your sake and mine, we are getting the onion rings.”
“Can’t argue with that one boss.” She settles in, placing her arms on the console and armrest respectively.
He smiles with his tongue sticking through his teeth. It’s so goofy looking she needs to press him against his chair and kiss him till he’s fucking senseless.
The thought of it makes her dizzy and guilty in equal measures.
“What are you thinking about?” He asks.
“Nothing important.” It’s the truth. Any feelings she might have about him were truly insignificant in the long run.
“You know you don’t have to lie to me.”
“I haven’t lied about anything.” She sets her hand down on the center console.
“With your words maybe not, but somethings off, and it shows every time you open your mouth.” He sets his hand over hers.
Scary jerks her hand away. “Thanks for the sentiment, but you got it wrong.” She opens her door and starts walking to the takeout counter.
Link sighs and follows her out. “You don’t need to tell me what’s wrong, but I’ve noticed you, getting weird today. You’re more jumpy than usual.”
“It’s nothing!”
“If that’s really the truth… then you should tell me what’s going on!” His mouth quirks up in a small smile, truly proud of the point he just made.
God, he’s truly frustrating. Why does she always have to pick the difficult ones? Defeated, she takes a seat at an outdoor seating table and pulls at her hair with her hands. “I… saw your scars.”
His eyes narrow. “My… scars?”
Ugh, he was going to make her spill all of her guts out. “Ya know, the scars? From that one time I tried to kill you with the eldritch blast?”
“Oh? Those?” and he actually has the urge to shrug, like the near-death experience wasn’t that big of a deal. “I already forgave you for that?”
“But… I don’t know?” She flounders, “It’s different seeing them in person? I always assumed that they would fade but they haven’t!... I ruined you forever, you should hate me for that.”
She doesn’t dare look up. She hates any concoction of emotions he is looking at her with, any combination a different hell entirely.
A hand presses on her arm as Lincoln sits down directly next to her. “Look at me?” he asks gently.
“No.”
“Hey? Look at me.”
Scrunching her face, she leans her head over to him. Lincoln’s looking at her with the most sickenly-sweet face imaginable. “You got my attention.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Whatever you say.”
“No!” He says quickly, yanking her hand forward. “I didn’t have the scars healed on purpose, I wanted to keep them.”
“...What the fuck?”
“It’s better if I show you.” Link lifts up his sweatshirt, revealing the intricate multi-pointed star-shaped scar stretching across his stomach. “I actually think it’s kind of pretty? When I look at it I don’t think about the pain, I think about our mission, and how it kind of sucks, but we got through it together. Mostly, it reminds me of you, I like that it does that.”
“That’s so fucking weird,” Scary looks up at him, unable to discern any part of him that isn’t serious, “But you already see me-see all of us, daily.”
“I know, but it’s nice to have. For when I’m home and alone feels like too much, having a piece of you is grounding. I wonder how long this will last, all of us, together in each others’ lives, it can’t be forever, this might be the only memento I have,” he says sadly.
Scary huffs. “There’s no possible future where you are not going to have me around, I’m going to be getting rides in your dumb van for the rest of time!”
“Do you want to touch it?”
She looks back between Link’s face and torso. “Are you sure that’s something you want me to do?””
“You aren’t going to do it again, so I’m not sure what the problem would be.”
Ever so gently, she reaches her hand out, willing it to stop shaking.
“Here, let me help,” Link says, gently guiding her towards him. He presses her hand to his chest and her body tenses against his, as if any movement is going to set her off. “You’re not going to hurt me, I trust you.”
If anything goes wrong, Lincoln does have healing magic.
She lets out a shaky breath and earnestly explores the edges of the scar. It’s just skin. There’s a slightly smooth texture to the edges, but it’s not bad, just unusual.
“Does this help?” he asks, and she looks up at him. There is a weird look on his face and a flush on his cheeks.
Scary’s eyes flicker back to where her hand is, still fastened to the exposed area. She’s closer to him than she was before, and they’re so close their breaths intermingle.
“Absolutely perfect.” She’s trying to be sarcastic, but it just feels genuine. “You always do know how to make me feel better.”
He lets out a snort before taking a quick glance back at her. “Glad I could help . In that case, can you ask me something Scary? You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to, but I just want to know I did ask before this is over… Why were you looking at me close enough to see the scar?”
“Huh?”
“I try to hide it so that no one can see, because explaining it to everyone seems like a lot, so if you saw it, it was only for like a second. What happened?”
She looks down at the ground. “Ughhhhh,” she mumbles, of course she’s been caught, “I was checking you out or whatever.”
Link lets out a startled noise. “You were? Really? Why?”
“I think you’re like kind of really hot,,” she says, trying to be nonchalant. “Something about my dorky loving friend who happens to be so attractive I can't function is my type.”
“How?”
“How what?”
“You said I’m your type, what is it about me that does it for you?” He says, raising one eyebrow. “I’m curious.”
He absolutely cannot know. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
A hand appears on her cheek and tilts her head till she is forced to make eye contact with Link. “I thought I said you didn’t need to lie to me.”
Scary’s mouth falls open. “Well, I mean, I think you’re nice and sweet and whatever.”
“And?”
“And you have a nice body,” she laments. “It’s so hard to watch you play soccer because you just? Have your muscles out on display like that, for anyone to see? It’s like you're trying to kill me.”
“I’m sorry,” Link says, sounding not sorry at all. She watches as he wets his lips, staring directly at her.
The entire day, Scary has been doing her best to push herself away from Lincoln Li-Wilson. It was for his own good, so that he didn’t feel burdened by her, but every time, he knew just how to pull her back in.
Without thinking, she swings a leg over him and reposition herself into his lap. “You’re such a fucking dork,” she says, and presses their mouths together.
Fuck, it felt better to let her stupid, hormonal brain win. His lips are so soft and warm, she needs to be enveloped in him. She lets her mouth open against his, desperately hoping he gets her message.
His head tilts against hers, and he takes one of her lips into his mouth and lightly teases it with his teeth. She groans against it, pulling herself impossibly closer, until his body has nowhere to move to, trapped between her and the bench, exactly where she wants him.
Link’s hands fly to her hips, keeping her still against him, and her brain goes static. His arms are on me, how are they this strong? Soccer isn’t a sport you need that much arm strength in.
A twisted part of her likes the idea that maybe, just maybe these arms were for her the entire time. To keep her here, kissing him for the rest of time. She likes that, the idea that he might have wanted her just as badly as she wants him, even if it isn’t true, it's a good thought for her daydreams.
Scary tilts her head so that she can get better access to his mouth and slides her tongue into his mouth slowly, taking as much time to lick into every corner of his mouth as possible. Link tightens his grip on her hips to just the right side of uncomfortable and lets out a low growl into her mouth, which she takes eagerly.
With a loud pop she pulls away, but is barely able to get a mouthful of air before Link chases after her mouth with a whine.
“One sec!” She says, winded. “I don’t have your athlete's lung capacity. I don’t think you want to end up explaining to anyone why I’m passed out in your lap.”
At that, Lincoln seems to realize what’s happening, and takes all of her in looking up at her with some kind of amazement.
It makes her want to kiss him, the way he always does. So she does, pressing a long passionate kiss to his lips before taking in how adorable he looks when bewildered.
“I thought you wanted a break from the kissing?” He asks, earnest as ever.
“It’s your fault!” She complains, “You get this stupid look on your face and it does something to my body that makes me have, ugh, emotions.”
Link turns his head, as if considering something. “Does that mean I can kiss you again?”
“Sure, I guess. Seeing as I did it, it's only fair.”
He turns his attention to her neck and starts planting open-mouthed kisses to the juncture of her neck, relishing in the spots that make her breathe hitch.
All of it is so overwhelming Scary doesn’t know how to engage, her eyes shut firmly closed out of fear that this somehow isn’t real, she’s dreaming, and is going to wake up any minute now to being alone and disappointed.
But this is all so much more vivid than her dreams. Every touch feels like a prayer being answered, that despite the lack of a god some divine power wants this for her, to be happy, to be absolutely adored.
The tingling sensation from the kisses travels up towards her ear, teeth delicately scraping the lobe. “You are so wonderful, so perfect. Need you.”
She hums softly. “Please. Please.”
“Please what?”
“Anything. Just as long as it’s you.” At that, Lincoln stills against her. Did she say something wrong? She opens her eyes and sees his eyebrows furrowed. “Is something bad?”
“No!” he says, realizing he did just stop their making out for no reason. “Nothing is wrong, everything is amazing, you’re amazing! I just realized we are kind of getting carried away in the seating area of a restaurant, where anyone can see us.”
Scary stifles a laugh. “Don’t want the pervos over at the Sonics getting all creepy on us?”
“Not really!”
She bites the inside of our lip. “So you wouldn’t be like against doing this again?”
“What?”” He grabs her face in his hands. “If you want this, and I am pretty sure you do, we are going to be kissing all the time. You are so unbelievably hot.”
“You’re such a fucking dork.!” Scary chastises.
“Yeah, but you think I’m a hot dork.”
Her face blushes deeper. “What about it,” she grumbles.
“Well, between that and this,” he says gesturing to the two of them, “probably means you're my girlfriend now. And if that’s the case then you get to kiss me whenever you want, and you can wear my varsity jacket on game day-”
“And I get dibs on the passenger seat of your car?”
Lincoln grimaces. “I do not want to be the one to do that to Taylor.”
Scary fake scoffs. “But I’m your girlfriend,” she teases, over-enunciating every syllable. “You can kiss me better from there and hold my hands at stoplights.”
“Fine.”
“Fuck yeah! Take that Taylor.”
“You’re telling him though,” he emphasizes, “This is on you.”
“I’m fine with that, I still win.”
He palms his face. “Okay. Do you want to go home now?”
She takes his hand into hers, “I would love that, honey.”
Lincoln takes her hand and starts walking back to the car, before stopping in the parking lot. “I feel like we are forgetting something.”
Scary looks at him, then the car, then the restaurant. “God damn it! The onion rings.”
He shrugs. “It’s fine. We can get them now.”
“But that foils my plan to make out hardcore with you in the car right now!” She says dramatically. “What am I going to do?”
“We can hold hands while we wait for them?”
“And then?”
“... And then we can make out hardcore in the backseat of the van,” Link says, putting his arm lovingly around her. “For hours, till the onion rings are so cold no one even wants to eat them.”
She smiles up at him, equally as dorky. “Fuck yeah.”