Newsies Imagines

The Bet (Race)

You're leaning against a faded brick wall, staring out at the streets of Manhattan. It's a quiet fall afternoon, the wind blowing the few remaining leaves down against the ground. It'll start getting cold soon, and the winter that follows will be hard, just like all the winters before it and all the winters to come. All the same, you've got enough good memories stored up from the past summer to make it through until the frost breaks.

A sound echoes up from the alleyway next to you, and, curious, you glance towards the opening. Seeing nothing, you shrug and turn back to the street. A few moments later, the sound comes again, and you groan.

"Romeo, if it's you again I swear I'm going to soak you."

When a newsie casually swings around the corner to stand by you, though, your annoyed look drops in an instant. This boy, carelessly holding a tattered newsie cap in his hands, is not Romeo but Race.

He quirks an eyebrow at the surprised look on your face. "What, expecting someone else? How many times has Romeo dropped by today?"

You can't help an annoyed laugh. "Way too many times. He keeps thinking that if he tries out his same few pickup lines enough times, he'll get somewhere with 'em."

Race grins. "And will he? Get somewhere, I mean."

You snort. "If I was in the market for some thirteen year old kid hanging off my shoulder whenever I so much as smiled, I would have told him so already. Seeing as I haven't, I think my answer is pretty clear."

Race laughs too. "Can you blame him? We'd all fall to our knees for one of your smiles, Y/N."

He clasps his hat dramatically to his chest when he says this, the perfect picture of melodrama. You give him a look and swat him with one of the newspapers from your bag.

"If you don't quit it, I'll start avoiding you just like I do with Romeo."

Race pretends to pout. "You're not being very supportive of my dreams, Y/N."

You raise an eyebrow. "And what dreams could those be?"

Race flashes you a wink. "To get the prettiest newsie girl here to notice me, obviously."

He straightens up and continues on his usual pape-selling path to the city, only grinning more broadly when you yell at his back that you're the only newsie girl, so his dream doesn't matter much anyway. He waves goodbye without looking back, and you watch him go.

Once you're certain that he can't see you anymore, you allow yourself to slump back against the wall with a silly grin on your face. You've been crushing on Race for a while now, you can admit that to yourself. However, you do know that Race flirts with everyone to cross his path, especially friends like you, so no matter what he says about dreams or otherwise, he'd never once look at you. You know that, but it still makes your heart skip a beat to see him grin at you like you're something worth seeing.

Here's the problem, though: he keeps trying. Last night, when the lamps were burning low and most of the younger kids had dragged themselves off to bed through eyelids already half-closed, Race had sat with you the entire night. It was just the two of you then, just the two of you talking and laughing and pretending you didn't see the meaningful glances Albert and Jojo kept shooting Race whenever his arm lingered around your shoulders for a little too long.

If you were smart, you'd stop this right now. You've got somewhat of a reputation around the newsies for not letting any insult slide, a halfway step between the camaraderie of the 'Hattan newsies and the ruthless punches of the Brooklyn boys. You've shut down Romeo many times before, you've ignored Finch's best attempts to keep you close, and politely declined Tommy Boy's offer to get dinner sometime at the Deli.