London's Guard Is Falling Down

𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

"Okay."

Now, look, I don't know what the hell London did, but he did something with his foot that made me fall. It was too quick, he didn't even give me a chance!

"I win round one," he said.

"Um, sir, what was that?!"

"What was what?"

"You made me fall." I held my arm out so he could help me up but when he did, I yelled, "Nah, don't even help me! I see how it is."

He laughed. "You gotta be ready at all times. I don't know what else to tell you."

"Whatever, let's do round two."

I did a mock swing, the second time I did he got a hold of my arms and tapped under my chin. I was then put in a light headlock.

"Okay, let me go."

"Okay." He did so but he lifted his shirt snd put me under, holding me in place so I wouldn't move. I was mad close to his armpit which was stubbly.

I wriggled my head around to bite his nipple. He let go.

"Hey! What are doing under there, weirdo?!"

I laughed, standing up straight.

"You're weird, Paris."

"You're just mad that I win round two."

"Who said all of that?"

"Me."

"Biting me does not mean you win."

"London, Paris," Dad called from downstairs. "What's going on up there?"

"We're playing house," I called back, Dad asked no further questions. "Anyways, I win. And, you need to shave."

"My underarms."

"Yeah, that's nasty, and it smells."

"You know damn well my armpits don't smell. Don't play with me."

His armpits didn't smell of anything but deodorant but it was fun to mess with London about hygiene and cleanliness because he took care of both.

"Well, I know what you use when you wash and I don't think it's doing anything. Maybe you should start using Fabuloso or something, I don't know."

"Shut up," he chuckled, going over to his dresser to organize some things.

I looked around his room to pick at him for something else.

"You know, you're very messy."

"Who's messy?" He whipped his head around and I saw the disbelief on his face.

"You're messy."

"Paris, you know I'm the least messy person you know."

"Your sneakers are on the floor." Every bedroom in my parents' house had a spacious closet beside my parents' because it was a walk-in, so I knew he had room to put his shoes in.

"That's one pair and I'm wearing them tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is not today."

"Oh, that's right, I forgot you don't lay your clothes out the night before school which is why you're a mess in the morning."

I looked him to him and down. "You're mean and I'm not a mess."

"Did I hurt your feelings?"

"Kinda. I was playing with you and you take things too far. But don't worry about it, I'm about to leave."

"Paris, are you serious?"

"Yes, like I'm really crying right now."

   "Yet no tears are coming out of your eyes."

   "They're coming, my tear ducts haven't, you know, released them yet."

  "Paris, don't cry." He came over and made me look at him. "So, you can call me dirty, messy, and this and that. But the moment I call you a mess, you get in your feelings."

  "I didn't say dirty."

  "Okay, be that as it may, but I'm simply returning the energy you give me."

  "I guess, but that was mean."

  "Maybe it was mean, but I was joking."

  He kissed my forehead, and me being dramatic, I refused to look at him.

  "Sorry for hurting your feelings, sensitive."