game on | lucaya

s i x t e e n

heart attacks and huckleberries

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I read Huckleberry as easily as ABC. The way he stopped in his tracks, and swiftly grabbed the remaining three water balloons out of the backpack.

Well, that was what he had originally planned to do, until I decided to interfere and do it my own way. I pull out those water balloons he was looking for, a sly smile dancing on my lips.

"I was afraid that these would burst in my jacket," I chuckle, the grin plastered on my face growing wider by the second.

"And I thought there was no need for me to take such drastic measures, Sundance," I click my tongue, shaking my head disappointedly. "I thought you were better than this."

"W-well, there isn't a need for you to throw those at me, so if we all just calm d-"

He is interrupted by the explosion of three water balloons in his face, making him completely and utterly wet.

But before I can see the expression on his face - tragedy, really - I zoom off, leaving a trail of dust behind me.

Everything rushes past me in a whirl of colours and I run until my throat is raw and my lungs are in flames. I fumble a bit for my keys in my jacket, but eventually find it and open my door to collapse on my couch. It didn't help that my goddamn apartment building only has stairs.

"You need to get some exercise," I mutter to myself, panting like a dog as I bring my hand up to wipe the thick sheen of sweat on my forehead. Yet I find a Cheshire Cat grin dancing on my lips in spite of the fact that I had probably run enough for a marathon.

Every time I'm with Huckleberry, my heart seems to dance faster in my ribcage, and there always seem to be butterflies in my tummy.

There's only one way to explain this.

I'm allergic to him.

I'm allergic to Lucas Friar.

Yes, that must be it.

Hold on, I'll just call Riley to confirm.

Quickly, I whip out my phone from my bag and punch in her number.

Pick up, pick up, pick u- yes!

"Hello Riles," I greet in a singsong voice.

"Hello Peaches! I absolutely loved those water balloons you hurled at me earlier!" Riley answers through the static in a sickly sweet voice and I can feel her fumes through the phone.

"Glad you loved them!" I reply, almost letting a giggle escape.

"Why are you calling me?" she sighs. "I could track your location."

"No, you can't," I argue.

"Yes, I can. I have Farkle."

"Oh," I say lamely. "Anyways, there's a question I have to ask."

"Yeah?"

"Am I allergic to Lucas Friar?" I ask.

"What?" she replies incredulously.

"Well, you see, every time I'm with him, my stomach feels really weird and I feel like I'm having a seizure!" I explain, creasing my eyebrows together.

She bursts out laughing at the other end of the phone.

"What?" I ask defensively, feeling my cheeks flame up in embarrassment.