“Don’t bother,” I said, grabbing my Switch. “I’ll have you know I’m a fucking champ when it comes to Mario Kart and there’s no way I’m going easy on you.”
**
By a glow that was ironically ghastly given the colourful nature of anything Mario-related, I destroyed Ashton.
“Have you ever even played this game before?” I asked after the first race, where I easily came in first.
“Beginner’s luck,” he said.
“Beginner? I’ve been playing Mario Kart since before you were born.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it and frowned. “I’m three months older than you.”
“Details, details,” I said, then joined the next race.
“I might be a little rusty,” he admitted after I wiped the floor with him again in the next race.
“A little?”
“Once I find my groove, you’re going to be begging for mercy.”
“Sure, Ash. Gotta catch me first.”
He groaned as I giggled.
During the third race, I managed to run him off a cliff.
“Jerk,” he muttered.
“Bitch,” I replied, and he burst out laughing.
“Just Supernatural or are you part of the whole trifecta?”
I rolled my eyes as I drifted around a corner. “Do I look like I’m part of SuperWhoLock?”
“Blue hair, eyebrow piercing, complete and utter disdain for an overbearing mother? You’re the fucking poster child for Tumblr.”
I missed hitting an Item Box as I glared at my screen. “Asshole.”
He laughed. “What, you can dish it out but you can’t take it?”
I gritted my teeth as an NPC Bowser blasted past me. “Let me remind you whose car this is and whose charger you’re currently using.”
“Oh,” he said, his laughter falling as flat as my tone had. “I… sorry.”
“Whatever.”
We finished the rest of the race in silence. I still beat him, but I didn’t come in first.
“I was joking,” he said when he finally crossed the finish line and the characters began to whirl around the track automatically. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“Your hair looks awesome,” he continued. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about it or something. You look so—”
“I don’t care about that,” I interrupted, partly because the fact he was complimenting my appearance was making me tingle in a way that was almost infuriating, since I shouldn’t care at all what Ashton Halliday thought of how I looked, but mostly because it wasn’t the thing that had bothered me. “I just don’t need to be reminded about my mother right now.” 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.𝘤𝘰𝘮
He was quiet for a moment. “Is everything… are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him nod.
“Got it.” He mashed one of the buttons on his Switch. “Come on, start the next race. I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”
I snorted. “A good feeling about losing?”
“I’m gonna make you eat those words.”
“Looks like I’m going to be starving.”
“Big talker,” he said. “You just wait.”
He came closer to beating me that time; neither of us came in first but he was only a couple of seconds behind me.
“Hope you’re hungry,” he teased.
“Oh, that’s right!” I said suddenly.
“What?”
I dug through the pocket on the back of the passenger seat. “Want some Oreos?”
“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”
“Depends on if the bear is Catholic.”
We both snickered, then went silent as we each popped an Oreo in our mouths. The dim light from our Switches filled the car, and I looked at him out of the corner of my eye as he grabbed another cookie.
“Can I ask you something stupid?” I asked suddenly.
He took a bite of the Oreo. “Yeah.”
I picked up another one but didn’t eat it, choosing instead to fidget with it by twisting the chocolate discs. “Don’t laugh.”
“I might.”
“When we were kids, in like… third grade, I think? Maybe fourth?” I knew it was third grade, but I was trying to pretend like it was slightly less of a big deal than I was making it. “Sometime around then. You… you had a birthday party. Playing laser tag, I think.”
“Yeah, sounds about right,” he said lightly.
I swallowed hard, still twisting the Oreo back and forth. “Why didn’t you invite me?”
“I did.”
I pressed my lips together as my stomach tightened. Of course he didn’t remember.
“You didn’t,” I said. “Everyone was super excited about it and then the day came and—”
“And your mom called and said you didn’t want to go,” he finished.
I looked up, my eyes wide, to see him staring back at me with a hard expression on his face.
“It was third grade, not fourth,” he said. “And my mom was mad because I’d insisted you were gonna come even though you didn’t respond to the invitation. She’d already paid for everything for the party and your mom only called her like an hour before it started.”
“What?” I said. “That can’t be right.”
“Trust me. I remember my mom being pissed about it.”
I bit my lip. “She said I wasn’t invited.”
Ashton’s face softened as he saw the confusion on mine. “Your mom totally hated me, Ramona. I mean, I kinda figured but my mom confirmed it after your mom called the police on me for skateboarding after ten p.m. at the park.”
“What?!”
He started laughing. “Yeah, when I was like, fifteen. I mean, I seriously wasn’t doing anything besides skateboarding, but I was scared shitless when the cops came and brought me home. I was lucky, though. He hung out to tell my mom that they only had to do something because Liz Roth was the one who called it in and that technically the bylaw did say that the park was closed after ten. After he left my mom said your mom thought I was a bad influence because she and her never got along.” He took another cookie from the package, his smile fading. “I thought you’d just decided we weren’t friends or something because you stopped wanting to hang out and you wouldn’t even talk to me at school. I didn’t know… she really told you I hadn’t invited you?”
I couldn’t bring myself to respond. Yeah, she had told me Ashton hadn’t invited me to his birthday party. And that had been so hurtful that I stopped being friends with him. And for… well, for ten years, since we were nineteen now, we hadn’t been friends because my mom thought a child was, what, a bad influence? A troublemaker? And she’d…
“She called the police on you?” I asked, my voice shaking with anger.
“Yeah,” he said.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“But—”
“Seriously, don’t be.” He looked at me earnestly. “I’m sorry I didn’t ever ask you about it. It’s not your fault she’s…”
“…such a bitch?” I finished as he trailed off.
He chuckled. “Your words, not mine.”
I shook my head. “And she wonders why I don’t want to be her goody-two-shoes mini-me anymore.”
“So the hair and piercing are because you’re rebelling?” he asked.
“No,” I said stubbornly. “They’re because I like them and now I can do the things I like.”
“Right.”
I glanced at him, trying to hide an abashed smile. “And maybe a little because I’m rebelling.”
He grinned. “You know what would be a great way to really stick it to your mom?”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Being friends with me again,” he continued. “Imagine how pissed she’d be if she found out we were hanging out.”
“I’ve been friends with people for stupider reasons,” I said. “Sounds good to me.”
“Awesome.” He grabbed another Oreo. “Now, you gonna keep stalling, or are you ready for me to destroy you in the next cup?”
“Bring it on, big talker.”
**
“I have a theory,” he said a while later.
“What’s that?”
“You didn’t really go away to university.” He wagged a finger at me. “You’ve spent the past year training in a super secret location to be the world’s top Mario Kart eSports player, and you just hustled me into thinking you haven’t played in years so you could get a free copy for your Switch.”
I smirked at him as my Yoshi raced around the track on my screen. “Believe whatever conspiracy you need to comfort yourself after losing again.”
“Oh, yeah?” He put his Switch down on his lap as his Toad did another automated lap. “Prove it.”
“Prove what? Mario Kart doesn’t even have any official competitions.”
“Sounds like something someone deep in the underground world of Nintendo eSports would say. You’re gonna have to do better than that.”
“What, like you want to see my student ID or something?”
He shook his head. “Anyone can fake one of those. Tell me something only someone who goes to university would know.”
I laughed. “Like what?”
He shook his head teasingly. “I can’t tell you. That would be cheating and all you’re doing is proving my theory.”
“How am I supposed to prove it?” I giggled. “What, you want to know how many frat parties I’ve been to or something?”
“Frat parties?” Ashton said with interest. “Have you been to many?”
I felt my skin get warm. “No, I… not really.”
He shifted in his spot, turning to face me. “What’s ‘not really’ mean?”
I bit my lip. “Well, I went to like… a couple. But I didn’t stay very long. Not really my scene.”
“Not a partier?”
“I didn’t say that.”
He grinned. “Tell me some party stories. It’s not concrete proof but it’ll help convince me a little.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t have a lot of stories. I went to some parties, I drank some beer, maybe did a little dancing.”
“Dancing?” he repeated. “That’s it?”
“Pretty much.”
Ashton smiled knowingly. “With one person or just kind of whoever?”
“Are you asking me if I slept around?” I asked.
He raised his hands. “No judgement from me. I’m just curious.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend, if that’s what you mean.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Nope. Why, you applying?”
“Do you want me to?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.
“I’m just messing around,” Ashton said after a moment, his face going serious. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “Just, um, unexpected. I didn’t really… you know. Do the party-hook-up thing.” Or any hook-up thing, but I didn’t add that part. “Mostly I sat around eating chips and talking games.”
“That’s what we’re doing right now.” He folded his arms. “Not a very convincing argument.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” I said. “I’ve been in university for a year. You just suck at Mario Kart.”
“I do not,” he said. “I just spent my year at university studying and behaving like a good, upstanding citizen instead of going to frat parties and hustling people at Mario Kart.”
“Oh, bullshit,” I cackled. “How many people did you ‘dance’ with, Ashton?”
“Just my girlfriend,” he replied.
My throat felt dry. “Oh.”
“Until she broke up with me,” he continued. “Then, like, three other people. Figured why not, you know?”
“Right,” I said.
I didn’t know what to make of the twitching little emotion in my chest. If I didn’t know any better, I would have called it jealousy. But it couldn’t be jealousy. This was the first time Ashton and I had talked—really talked—in… well, forever, I suppose. I mean, nine-year-olds aren’t known for their intellectual and deep conversations, and while we’d spoken in passing during high school, it wasn’t like this.
On the other hand… unghhh.
“Is this too weird?” he asked frankly. “I’m serious, Ramona. Just tell me to shut up if this is getting too personal or something.”
I bit my lip. It wasn’t too personal. Aside from the fact that we were really just getting to know each other for the first time, I trusted him, and he was… well. I didn’t know if he was asking because he was trying to feel out if I would be okay with him hitting on me or something, but if he was, I knew it was because he liked me as more than just a concept. I mean, he’d known me since we were kids, and he knew about my crazy mom, and he was understanding, and kind, and funny, and… well. 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.𝘤𝘰𝘮
“I just don’t have anything, um, interesting to say,” I finally said. “I don’t mind talking about it, I just… I didn’t meet anyone worth writing home about. Not that I’d want to tell my mom about it, anyway. She’d… well.”
“Wouldn’t approve or would immediately start planning a wedding?” he asked.
I smiled down at my Switch. “Wouldn’t approve. She’s pretty conservative about that kind of thing. Which sucks, because I want to be a bit more open to, you know…” I cleared my throat. “…trying new things or whatever. But it’s hard to get past all the things she said. Like, there was this pyjama party where they started playing strip beer pong and I wanted to play but… I dunno.”
He listened thoughtfully, nodding as I finished. “You started overthinking it.”
“Yeah, like I am right now,” I muttered, which was apparently a lie because I did not think that through.
“What are you overthinking right now?”
I glanced up at him, suddenly vulnerable, suddenly alarmed. Ashton looked back at me steadily, his eyes wide but friendly, intrigued but safe. I wanted to tell him; I wanted to say I was wondering why he’d asked, and ask what he’d really meant when he said I looked good, and if he wanted to kiss me, and if he thought the fact that I wanted to kiss him and touch him and do other stuff to him would make him think I was only doing it to rebel against my mom or if he understood that I’d always liked him, and would he even be interested in me like that.
“Just stuff,” I said instead, my voice small.
Ashton opened his mouth to respond, but the inside of my car suddenly exploded with light. Before the confusion faded from my mind and the temporary white blindness had faded back to dark, thunder burst above us.
“What the fruck,” I shrieked, jumping so suddenly that I nearly tumbled off the backseat. Without thinking, I grabbed Ashton to steady myself.
I don’t know if he was thinking when he put an arm around me, or if it was just instinct, or if he felt the same spark that I did as his hand brushed against my breast unintentionally. I do know that my heart was racing so fast that I felt lightheaded, and that it wasn’t entirely because of the sudden clap of thunder.
“Did…” he started, then stifled a laugh. “Did you just say what the ‘fruck’?”
“Shut up,” I muttered.
My face was burning and something in the back of my mind was screaming that I should pull myself away, that I shouldn’t be pressed against Ashton in the back of my car. But he didn’t let go of me, and I didn’t move away from him, and when the next flash of lightning filled the sky, he was still holding me close.
“Probably going to start raining again,” he said after thunder finished rumbling.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“Probably pretty hard,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“So if you want to go back inside…”
“Not really. Do you?” I asked.
“No.”
The word hung between us and my heart stuttered, that light-headed feeling extending from my head to my limbs, a weightless anticipation that was foreign and nerve-wracking and electrifying. I had a vague idea of where I wanted things to go, and I was fairly certain that Ashton wanted things to go in that same direction, but I didn’t know what to say next.
“Why don’t we keep playing?” he asked gently a moment later.
Oh.
“Sure,” I whispered, my voice deflated as I started to untangle myself from him.
His arms tightened. “But how ’bout we up the stakes?”
I stopped and looked up. Lightning chose that moment to flash again, revealing a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.
I bit my lip, hardly able to contain my excitement. “What were you thinking?”
**
Despite the added motivation, he still lost the next race.
“Damnit,” he cursed.
“Off with the shirt,” I said cheerfully as I leaned against the door.
We’d been smart enough to close the windows I’d cracked open before the rain started, so Ashton didn’t seem to mind stripping off a layer considering how hot the inside of the car had gotten. Rain hammered against the roof of the car, a staccato soundtrack to the flashing glimpses of skin I got as lightning burst beyond the foggy windows.
I watched unabashedly, equally grateful that he had lost so I didn’t have to be the first one to take my shirt off and that the light was bright enough for me to appreciate the lines of his body.
The rules were negotiated before we started. Clothing had to come off in order; no removing pieces that were under something else first. Shoes and socks didn’t count, nor did jewellery. In order to make the other person remove a piece of clothing, you had to come in first; placing ahead of them wasn’t cause for stripping. We took turns picking the course, regardless of who won. Most importantly, either of us could stop the game at any time, no questions asked.
“And if your mom comes outside and discovers me sitting half-naked in your car?” he had asked, the only moment he seemed to second-guess himself.
“She won’t,” I replied. “There’s no way she’ll come outside in this weather.”
“But if she does?” he pressed.
“Once she’s done yelling, I’ll go down on you.”
“Deal,” he said without hesitation, and there was a long delay before we could start playing because I was laughing too hard.
Part of the laughter was nervousness; part of it was mortification that the words had actually left my lips; part of it was to cover the absolute thrill that rushed through me as I imagined looking up at Ashton just before taking him in my mouth.
My heart felt like it was hammering against my ribcage as I faked confidence and told him to pick the first track since I was certain I’d beat him anyway. Throughout the entire race, my breath was stuck in my throat, though it didn’t stop me from trash-talking him when he missed hitting me with a red shell, and I only let it out when I finally crossed the finish line.
“Your turn,” he said after putting his shirt on the rear shelf. “What course?”
I tore my eyes away reluctantly and studied the screen of my Switch.
“What’ll it be, what’ll it be,” Ashton said as I contemplated. “Probably gonna play it safe, eh? Dry Dry Desert? Toad Turnpike?”
“In your fruckin’ dreams,” I said. “No way am I going easy on you.”
“Oh, not for my sake,” he replied. “I mean, you don’t want to throw your winning streak now, right? So you wouldn’t pick something hard that might put you in a… precarious sort of position, would you?”
I glanced up at him. “Are you trying to goad me into picking a harder track?”
He blinked at me innocently. “Who, me?”
I snorted. “This coming from the guy who picked Mario Circuit. Can you get any more basic?”
“And yet, you weren’t that far ahead of me. Starting to choke, Ramona?”
“If you want me to choke, you’ll have to give me something bigger than this, Ash.”
The startled shock on his face was almost worth falling for his taunts and picking Wario Stadium instead of something like Toad Harbour.
Almost.
I was ahead of him for most of the race. Halfway through the final lap, I heard Ashton curse as he hit one of the flame wheels.
“Hope you’re wearing nice boxers,” I teased, though I shut up fairly quickly when lightning struck in-game and shrunk me while I was mid-jump, sending me plummeting into a mud puddle.
I was holding down the gas as hard as I could when the jingling sound of an Item Box rang from Ashton’s Switch. Seconds later, he let out a celebratory cry.
“Hope you’re wearing nice panties,” he shot back.
“What?”
But I didn’t need to ask, and he didn’t need to answer. The dreaded beeping alarm sound started and I looked at the screen in horror.
“No, no, nonono,” I wailed as the blue shell appeared above me and hurtled down.
Ashton laughed so hard that I hoped it would be enough to stop him from getting to first, but it wasn’t. By the time I recovered, most of the racers had passed me. I didn’t give in; I still tried to catch up, hoping I’d maybe hit a box and get Bullet Bill or maybe a Blooper or a Super Star or something.
