Once Upon A Push

Chapter 9: I'm a better COD player, face it.

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“Hello.” Oliver said, his eyes crinkling in the corners. It’s weird how he’s always the one to open the door.

"Hello.” My mother said, smiling. He opened the door for us with a kind greeting towards me. I smiled and returned the greeting. He pulled me to the side.

 “It may be for personal business but Daniel told me to ask you to talk to him upstairs.” He said with his eyebrows furrowed. I nodded, walking upstairs. How embarrassing was that?

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I knocked loudly on the door. I heard a grumble and then footsteps approaching the door.

“What mom?” Cyrus said, rubbing his eyes.

“Hey, this is the second time you mistaken me for your mom. It’s getting a bit weird, Cyrus.” I announced, nodding slowly. His head darted up. He smiled sleepily. He still looked gorgeous.

“Uh, come in. I’m going to uh, take a shower. So, just sit down. Watch TV or something.” He said, walking to his closet. I nodded as he walked to the bathroom with clothes in his hand.

I turned on his PlayStation 3, inserting the Call of Duty Black Ops 2 disk, his account was already signed in. I cracked my knuckles, grabbing a controller and tossing my hair out of my face into a sloppy bun. It’s been a while since I played this game.

The game was loading up. When it finally loaded, I clicked ‘Multi Player’ and then ‘Domination, Find Match.’ A few people were talking loudly, I so badly wanted to tell them to shut up but I realized that it’d probably ruin whatever reputation he managed to build up. My voice sounded like a 10 year old girl on the Mic. The game started and I began playing, sniping people from buildings, ballistic knifing the campers who thought they were slick. I was on a kill streak when the bathroom door opened. 19 kills, just one more.

“Whoa… you play Call of Duty?” Cyrus’s voice asked, causing me to jump slightly. I ended up dying.

“Obviously.” I replied hastily, throwing a grenade. I killed 4 people with that- kill streak of 23. I wandered the map, looking for any of my enemies. The game ended and my team won, with me in first place with 26 kills and 1 deaths.

“Wow… you’re pretty good... for a girl.” He smiled, nodding his head at my score. I rolled my eyes but decided to take it as a compliment.

“Thanks.” I replied, turning off the game.

“I’m sorry.” He said, catching me off guard. I wrenched my body towards him.

“What was that?” I asked, my voice raising two octaves. I coughed to try and bring it back to normal.

“I said I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad, and what happened between that girl and I was years ago. I promise. I wasn’t trying to do that to you, I swear. It was different back then, I was different back then. I just wanted to return you home in one piece. I don’t know about you, but I consider us friends. And I don’t want to ruin our friendship by some stupid game of ‘What I did.’ And I’m also sorry about Dean, he’s a walking dirt bag who didn’t and never will deserve you. I’m just sorry.” Cyrus said sincerely. He bowed his head sadly.

For whatever reason, when he said ‘I don’t know about you,’ it reminded me of ‘22’ by Taylor Swift. I felt a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. I wanted so badly to reach out and hug him, just wrap my arms around his neck but I couldn’t. I shouldn’t. I wouldn’t. I can’t.

“I accept your apology. I am sorry myself.” I said sheepishly. He looked up, slightly confused.

“I’m sorry for acting so hostile and, well, jealous. I’m always stubborn, but you dealt with me, so I thank you for that. And thanks for walking me to the car, it meant a lot.” I spoke. I looked up at him to see a full blown grin on his face.

“You were jealous,” He said quietly at first. I raised an eyebrow.

“You were jealous.” He announced a bit louder.

“You were JEALOUS.” He repeated. I raised my other eyebrow, so now both of my eyebrows were raised. He broke into dance and song.

“You were jealous! Duh, nu, nu! You were jealous! Oh, so jealous!” He repeated while I laughed.

“Oh shut up.” I replied, scowling.

“You want to play some COD, Jealous Maverly?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. I rolled my eyes, grabbing a controller.

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“You are a cheater!” He yelled, tossing his controller onto the couch.

“How?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. He was standing up, his hands moving around crazily in the air.

“You are glitching the game, aren’t you?” He announced, pointing to the wall flat screen. I shook my head, no.

“You’re a liar! You’re cheating!” He said, crossing his arm.

“You just stink and you’re jealous.” I replied, shrugging.

“I do not stink and I am not jealous!” He said, narrowing his eyes, annoyed.

"Obviously you do.” I said, shrugging.

“I don’t!” He retorted.

“You got beat by a girl. I had 36 kills and no deaths; you had 3 deaths and 18 kills.” I said.

“So? That was just one match!” He replied.

“Okay, the first match we played. You had 24 kills and 12 deaths; I had 38 kills and one death.” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, that’s two matches. That still doesn’t mean I stink.” He said, frowning now.

“It does, though.” I said, smirking.

“I still have two favors left.” He randomly added.

“But-.” I began speaking, trying to interrupt him.

“I’d like to cash a favor in.” He said, announcing the favor seconds later. I shook my head, ‘no.’ There was no way I was doing that. We’d be the center of attention. No way.