Had to be Dyson

Chapter- 9

I laughed and made sure to stay exact opposite of the ring as Mason so that he couldn’t get me, but played along with him. “Oh no! You’re going to get me! I’m too slow!”

I slowed down and he grabbed me by the bottom of my shirt, making us both topple over onto the ground. I instinctively held him close so that he didn’t get hurt as we fell and then when I saw that we were both okay, I laughed. Following me, Mason laughed too.

I stood to my feet. “My turn to get you.” I said evilly.

He let out a girly shriek as he started running around the other little kids. I let him just out of my reach for a few minutes before I grabbed his sides and started tickling him.

The tears eventually took over my whole body and I became a full out sobbing mess. I sat down with my back against the comet and rested my elbows on my knees and then put my face in  my hands as I cried. I remembered Mason and his smile, his laugh, his whine, his playfulness. But no matter how good the memory is, remembering still hurts. The pain of him not being here. With me. It hurts so bad, I just want it to go away. I just want him back and I don't want to feel this pain. I don't want to remember or cry. Weak. I'm weak for crying and I hate feeling like this. I just hate it.

“Uhm, do you, uh, do you want to wait until tomorrow to play the game?” Dyson’s voice echoed through the play place.

I was instantly on my feet and wiping the tears from my face. “Uh, w-what game?” I asked, trying to make my voice sound not too shaky. I failed.

Dyson smirked. “You’ll see. But we can do it tomorrow, if you want.”

“No, we might as well just get it over with. I’m fine.”

“Ah, that’s the spirit.” We walked back to the Macy’s side by side silently. Dyson didn’t dare bring up that he saw me crying because I would have ripped his head off and I think he knew that.

“Here it is.” Dyson said proudly, waving a hand around like a Price is Right model. I looked between our two beds to see the small white night stand. On top of the night stand was a checkers board. But it wasn’t just a checkers board, the board was glass and instead of little chip looking things, they were shot glasses filled with two different colored liquids.

“You’re trying to get me drunk?” I asked with a sniffle.

Dyson shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

“Do you know how stupid that is? What if something happened and we were too drunk to notice or care?” I asked. Or more like shreiked.

“C’mon. Take a risk for once in your life.” He whined.

“I don’t exactly have a choice.” I muttered. “But it’s really stupid.”

“Yolo.” He said with a grin.

I glared at him but I couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at my lips. “Never say that again.”

Dyson just laughed before sitting on his bed across from me so that the checker board was between us. “Do you even know how to play checkers?” I snorted.

“I happen to be very good at checkers.” He defended.

I nodded. “Riight. Well, why don’t you go first then.”

“Fine. This is how it works. If you get jumped, you shoot it. If I get kinged, you shoot it. If you get kinged, I shoot it. So the glasses that are empty on the table are kings.” He explained, taking one of his shot glasses and carefully moving it so that it didn’t spill. I took my turn and then he took his turn and we silently played the game, putting all of our focus on the game.