your body is a weapon → brad simpson | ✓

thirty

"Come on, you two," a teacher calls from behind us. "Time to get to class."

Brad lets out a sigh and drops his hands from my arms before looking down at me. "Come on, lets go before Coach yells at us."

We make it to class before coach ends up telling us off and he announces that we're going to be playing rugby outside.

Brad and I pair up to do some running and throwing and practice making runs for the goals. When we get into teams, Brad and I are separated.

"I hope you get the ball so that I can rugby tackle you," I say to Brad, pushing him slightly as he grabs a pink bib from the floor to put on.

"What else are you gonna do? Football tackle me?" He teases me and I roll my eyes, walking over to my team and we sort out positions. When we begin the game, Brad has the ball first and is throwing it in the air and catching it with ease.

As the whistle blows, the attackers run forward to get the ball while I stay back to defend. When I get passed the ball, I run forward with it, dodging people quickly with ease—one good thing about being small.

As Brad follows close behind, I hear him chuckling from the side as I roll on the floor to avoid someone's body, throwing it back towards a teammate.

Brad accidentally falls on top of me and I wheeze out at the contact. "Get your fat ass off of me, Simpson!"

"You think I'm fat?" He mocks offence and I try to push him off but he doesn't budge. "I've been going to the gym for you, Jamie. I thought I was finally losing weight."

"You two!" Coach yells at us. "Get off of the floor and play!" Brad pushes himself off of me and I take his outstretched hand as I get up off of the floor.

When the lesson has finished and Brad and I are changed, we walk towards his car, laughing about the multiple times Brad decided to tackle me or lift me over his shoulder to distract my team.

"You're a cheat," I tell Brad. "And a sore winner." He had been bragging about winning ever since the game ended—turns out that we're both really competitive.

"Cheat? I'm not a cheat!" Brad says playfully as we climb into his car and begin our way into town for shopping. "Your team was just bad."

"No! You kept tackling me when I didn't have the ball so that your team could get past our defence," I scowl at him and he chuckles, turning on some music.

When we're in town, Brad parks up at the shopping centre and we walk towards the entrance. Even though it's just past four, it's already getting dark since the clocks went back a couple months ago for daylight saving.

"Where are we going first?" Brad asks, linking our arms together. It was still really busy, even for a Tuesday night.

"I wanna get some clothes for my dad," I say. "Do you know any good shops?"

"Yeah, they're this way," Brad says, taking us up to Selfridges on the second floor. We look around and Brad pulls out a few, cheaper shirts for me to buy.

Once they're in my basket, we end up looking around to find stuff for his family and I end up throwing some socks in my basket for Brad, too.

"This is nice," Brad says, grabbing my attention. We had been looking at clothes for half an hour, finding stuff for him to wear at the party.

In his hands was a baby pink, strapless dress that would probably end mid thigh and he wasn't wrong, it does look nice. "I didn't know you liked wearing dresses."

"Not for me," Brad rolls his eyes at me. "For you, for the party." I step closer to him, looking at the price tag before shaking my head.

"It's too expensive to buy for one occasion," I tell him. "There's no point getting it for myself."

He narrows his eyes for a moment before nodding and hanging it back up. "Alright. Have you got everything?"

I nod and we make our way to the checkout. I pay first and then Brad does and I'm thankful he doesn't notice the small items of clothing I bought for him. I don't know what big present to get for him but I know that he would appreciate some small stuff, too.

I text my dad and let him know that I've finished shopping and I'm on my way back with Brad, and he tells me that he's out at work until tomorrow. I'm not surprised at this point.

As we pull up to my house half an hour after leaving, Brad walks me up to the door with a small smile. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Of course," I say, wrapping my arms around his torso. "And I'll see you tomorrow, too."

"I'll pick you up at eight," he says, rubbing my back as he rests his head on my shoulder. Brad gives really good hugs.

"I might still be asleep."

"You probably will be."

edited.