Worthy Opponents (part 4)
Connor slowed a little as he pulled into the left turn lane, having spotted the giant neon bell. He pulled into a spot near the door and flicked off the CD player, reaching under the steering wheel to turn the key and untwist the wires. They both stepped out of the car and walked across the parking lot, Tasha realizing she had to step a little quicker to keep up with his long, easy strides. That had never been the case before, usually people had to keep up with her. She kind of liked it this way. Of course he got to the door first and, without any ceremony or great show, opened it for her. She looked at him as she walked past, something like confusion on her face, but let it go. He followed her up to the counter and stood behind her with his hands in his pockets, face dangerously close to her ear as he leaned in.
“Whatcha gonna get?” She turned slightly and raised an eyebrow.
“Tacos. Lots and lotsa tacos.” He pulled back a little and made eye contact, raising an eyebrow to match hers.
“Didn’t know you were a taco fan…” How did he make absolutely everything sound pervy, but incredibly hot at the same time?
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me Connor. Example: I own a cat.”
“A cat? Really? Okay, I want you to tell me every single thing you can about your cat on the count of three. One… two…”
“You are very smarky, you know.” She looked at him, triumphant, until he giggled a little and caught her eye.
“Smarky?” Uh oh. Maybe that bottle of Boone’s Farm had hit her a little harder than she originally thought. But in this case, deny, deny, deny.
“I said snarky.” Connor rocked back a little on his heels, hands still in his pockets.
“No, you definitely said smarky. With an ‘m.’ Smarky.” Now he was the one smiling triumphantly.
“Yeah, well, at least I didn’t make a really bad taco joke, so…”
“Weak, Tasha, weak. I know you can come up with something better than that.”
“Oh really? Like I said before, there’s a lot you don’t know about me. Maybe after 30 minutes I run out of wittiness and turn back into a cantaloupe…”
“I thought it was customary for one to turn back into a pumpkin…”
“I prefer cantaloupes.”
“Something else to add to my list of ‘Interesting Things About Tasha.’”
“You’re keeping a list?”
“Of course. And it’s getting pretty long.” She turned all the way around to face him, crossing her arms and assuming her most authoritative stance. He still had a good four inches on her, but she could work with that. She could work very well with him on top of her… Oh god. Bad. Too many that’s what she said’s all at once. She shook her head to return focus.
“And what, may I ask, is on this list?”
“Well, there’s the irrational hatred of cookies…”
“Not irrational, we just haven’t discussed it yet…”
“Your penchant for interrupting me… ah, wait. Your love of your cat, affinity for $3 wine, love of porch roofs, and, most notably, inexplicable attraction to my hair.” She blushed for what felt like the first time in years, not used to being read so easily. He laughed at the sudden shift and chummily put a hand on her shoulder. “See, I know more about you than you think.” She picked up his hand with feigned disgust and dropped it at his side.
“And this is where I would normally run away screaming ‘STALKER!’ but I’m too hungry right now.” With that she turned and walked up to the counter. “Can I get a number 11, beef baha, soft shell, and a caramel apple empanada?” The pimply boy behind the register struggled, searching the buttons row by row until he found the right choices.
“That’ll be $5.89, is that for here or to go?” His voice cracked a little on the question and Tasha bit her lip to keep from giggling. Connor saw her shoulders tense, though, and kicked the heel of her shoe lightly. She whipped around and back quickly, just enough time to send him a death glare. “Here, please. Thanks.” Teenage Stereotype handed back her credit card, cup and receipt, and she moved over to the other end of the counter to fill up her drink. By the time she was done, Connor had joined her at the fountain, drink cup ready. She smiled to herself as he filled it up with Mountain Dew Code Red, no ice. She had lost track of the number of things they eerily had in common, and wondered if that whole ‘opposites attract’ thing really held any merit. It had never seemed to work for her before. She moved over to the condiment counter, grabbing a straw and napkins, pocketing a few packs of mild sauce to take home to her roommates. It seemed they could never keep enough of it around the house, they put it on just about everything.
“I’ll be nice and not turn you in for petty theft.” He had suddenly appeared behind her.
“You have a bad habit of sneaking up on people.” She stuffed a few more into the pocket of her sweatshirt and turned to him. “And besides, they expect you to take this stuff. That’s why it’s out here. It’s not for me anyway.”
“So you’re just an enabler, then. Feeding other people’s habits, not thinking of the consequences.”
“You’re awfully emotional about Mild Sauce Addiction.”
“It’s just, I’ve lost some good people in the last year. It’s hard. And you never see it coming, it just seems so innocent.”
“Like so many addictive substances.”
“I know. The problem is it’s a gateway sauce. They overload on the mild, and soon it’s not enough. They have to move on to spicy, which is a completely different animal, and then… man, I don’t even want to talk about the people who move on to hot.”
“I’ve only ever seen one.” Tasha took a sit of her pop, then bowed her head for a minute. She kissed two of her fingers, then raised them with her eyes to the ceiling in recognition. “This one’s for you, Rodrigo.” Connor placed a hand on her arm, a serious look on his face, and nodded like he understood. Tasha covered his hand with her own, mouthing ‘thank you’ as a single glistening tear slipped down her cheek. Connor watched it make its path down to her chin, then suddenly stood back. And began applauding.
“Let it never be said that your wit dies after 30 minutes, Tasha. That was masterful.” She shrugged her shoulders and took another sip, then walked over to the counter and picked up her food, made her way to the nearest booth and sat down. Connor stood where he was, head thrown back laughing. Item number seven for his list: Tasha was never going to back down first.
Worthy Opponents (part 3)
Tasha climbed into the junker, trying to put as little weight on the floor of the car as she could, afraid she’d fall through to the street. As he walked around the back to the driver’s side, she noticed that his door was locked, so she leaned over to unlock it for him. It was only polite. For as tall as he was, there was a sort of grace about him as he folded himself into the front seat, picking up a pair of gloves from underneath him and throwing them into the back. She liked his car, she decided. It was well worn and felt like an old soul, with its dark, ratty interior. She ran her hand over the cracking leather of the front seat, liking how it continued all the way over to his door. Tasha reached down to find a seatbelt, but came up empty handed. She looked over at Connor, who had been quietly watching her search.
“Yeah, there aren’t any seatbelts, you’re just going to have to trust that I’m not going to drive us into oncoming traffic.” He put the key in the ignition, then grabbed a few wires hanging from the steering column, twisting them together before turning the key.
“Comforting,” she responded, turning a little and folding her left leg under herself, trying to cushion her ass against the spring threatening to escape from the seat. They had been sitting quietly in the rumbling car for a few minutes, and Tasha started to fidget nervously, wondering why they weren’t still going anywhere. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, checking the clock on the front. Connor noticed and turned fully to face her, pulling his right leg up against him, wrapping his arms around this knee.
“We have to wait a while for the belts to warm up. If I go too soon they’ll get ripped to shreds. BUT. In the meantime…” He reached across Tasha’s lap, causing her to start a little bit, to grab something from under her seat. He started flipping through an extremely worn black CD case, grabbing a plain silver disc, slipping it into the portable CD player taped to the dashboard. He grinned as he pressed play, obviously waiting for her response. The sound of guitars filled the space, and she smiled, leaning her head against the window and laughing a little as Jeff Mangum told her that when she was young, she was the king of carrot flowers. She quietly sang along, eyes closed and a look of sheer satisfaction on her face.
“You know the words. Like all of them.” Tasha opened one eye and looked at him.
“And?”
“I don’t know. I just… None of my friends have even heard of them. And you know all the words. It’s just… nice.” He shifted himself on the seat back to a suitable driving position and shifted the car into gear. It roared and protested a little as he let up on the clutch and pushed on the gas, moving into second as they continued down the street. Track two faded in and Connor absently leaned over and pressed “Next,” then looked over at Tasha.
“Sorry, do you mine if I skip? This one’s my favorite.” Tasha felt ridiculous smiling as much as she had tonight, but she pulled up the side of her mouth and nodded, telling him it was her favorite, too.
“Not gonna lie, we’re kind of freaking me out,” he laughed. She chuckled to herself and watched his profile passing under the street lights. He wasn’t conventionally handsome, really. His nose was a little big and round, his cheeks fuller than would seem appropriate for his body, curls gently framing very noticeable ears. For some reason, though, it just all seemed to fit with his easy personality.
“What,” he said, realizing she was staring at him.
“Nothing.” She turned back to the front, pretending to be interested in the houses they were passing.
“No, you were staring at me. You were drinking in my rugged features, imagining what our children would look like. Hopefully they’d have your nose, though. I wouldn’t wish this on any other children.” She turned to him in mock horror
“I was not. I was memorizing your face so I could describe it to the police sketch artist after they find me tied up in a basement in Excelsior.”
“I’m hurt. Really. I would never leave you in a basement in Excelsior. I’d kill you and drag your body to Lake Minnetonka. I’m not dumb enough to leave you able to give a statement.”
“How do you think you’d do it?” she said, bringing her right leg up to rest on her left knee.
“Well, there’s always blunt head trauma, ritualistic decapitation, gunshot wounds, but those are boring…” She laughed as he counted them off on his fingers, keeping his left hand on the wheel, fumbling a little as he made a turn. “And then there’s my personal favorite, poisoning. Preferably with Iocane powder.”
“Well, it is tasteless and odorless.” Tasha laughed when he tried to look over at her and ended up veering into the next lane. “Watch it there, Earnhardt.” She pointed to the road ahead of them. “I’d rather not die on a quest for fast-food Tex-Mex.”
“Well, what kind of quest would you prefer to die on? We can try it out after we get our food, I can merge on the expressway in the path of a semi or something.” As odd as their conversation was, there was something about it that just flowed, felt completely natural to both of them.
“Hmmm. I wouldn’t mind dying on a quest for calamari.” She tapped her chin and tilted her head towards the ceiling.
“Fried squid? You’d die for fried squid? I expected something more decadent, like strawberry bisque, or the world’s best chocolate chip cookie or something.” Tasha sat straight up in her seat and glared at Connor.
“NO! No. No cookies. I would die on a quest to avoid the world’s best chocolate chip cookie.” She crossed her arms over her chest and turned back to the road, looking out the corner of her eye at Connor, who had gone rigid, his eyes wide and a nervous frown on his face. He took his right hand of the wheel and licked his pointer finger, making a check mark in the air, moving swiftly into his best Joan Crawford impression.
“Note to self: no chocolate chip cookies. No more chocolate chip cookies, ever!” Tasha laughed, glad the potentially uncomfortable situation had been diffused.
Worthy Opponents (part 2)
"Oh my god, are you okay?" The laughter in his voice was obvious, but she would have seen the concern written all over his face had she been able to look anywhere but his feet.
"You're wearing PF Flyers." Slowly, Tasha hoisted herself up off the floor, using the banister and Connor's left arm for support. He smiled once she got to her feet.
"Of course. They're guaranteed to make any kid run faster..." Connor's smile got wider.
"And jump higher." Tasha swore if he tried to smile any more his face would split in half. He dropped his head with a chuckle, then looked back at her.
"You're killin' me, Smalls." She grinned at him as they walked through the kitchen which was, thankfully, only inhabited by a few lonely drunks trying to get every last drop out of the party ball. Tasha hesitated at the door to the living room, the thumping music creating a sort of invisible barrier. When Connor realized she wasn't behind him anymore he turned and walked the two steps back to where she was frozen.
"You change your mind about that empanada?" He looked confused, but hopeful.
"No... it's just... there's a lot of people in there."
"Well, it is a party..."
"Exactly. Do you think there's another way out?" She was slowly backing farther into the kitchen.
"Not any that can get us to my car. C'mon. Pretend you're Whitney Houston and I'm Kevin Costner. We'll do this Bodyguard style." Tasha laughed as Connor grabbed her hand and dragged her into the mob. About halfway to the front door, Tasha spotted the friend who had dragged her here and hollered over the house music.
"Emily! I made a new friend! He's taking me to Taco Bell!"
"Tasha! I made a new friend, too!" She held up her partner's hand. "He's taking me upstairs!"
"Okay! Make him wrap it up!" She released Connor's hand to make an obscene gesture, and was promptly dragged into a line of humping foreign exchange students, shrieking a little as she went. Before she could drown in their excess cologne Connor grabbed hold of her forearms, pulling her behind him as he finished the journey, all the while singing at the top of his lungs.
"And I-ee-I-ee-I will always love you!" Tasha couldn't help but laugh as they ran out the front door, falling back against it as it shut.
"Well, as fun as that was... shall we?" Connor swept his arm over the street, pointing to a beat up old sedan covered in bumper stickers. Tasha was a little wary.
"Is that thing going to make it to Taco Bell?"
"What, Louie? Louie's a trooper." Tasha just looked at him as they walked to the hunk of rusting metal.
"Louie?" Connor looked hurt.
"Yes, Louie. Doesn't he look like a Louie?" He leaned over the hood of the car, his right hand tapping a gentle rhythm against the metal. "I love my Louie." Tasha slowly started backing away from the display in front of her.
"Yeah, I think I'm going to go back and brave the party... let you two have some alone time..."
"That would probably be good." Connor lifted his left leg and draped it over the hood. "Oh Louie, it's been too long! Ooooo!" Eventually he gave up and climbed off the car, walking around to let Tasha in, not even acknowledging the scene that had just taken place.
Worthy Opponents (part 1)
She sat on the roof above the front porch watching the people below flick their lighters. The one in green had Parliaments. Red Hat had Camel Lights. And -oh!- Blue Shoes had Camel No. 9's.
"62 days," she said out loud to no one in particular. "62 freakin' days. Will not give in."
"You holding a private AA meeting up here, or can anyone join?" She jumped at the voice behind her, and scooted over a bit as the stranger joined her on her perch.
"I quit smoking. 62 days ago. I have been a non-smoker for 62 days.” He shot her a lop-sided grin, but quickly pulled it back into a straight face.
"So wait, how long has it been?" She quirked an eyebrow and leaned back a little to get a better look at her new friend.
"You know, you're pretty snarky for someone I just met 30 seconds ago... who still doesn't have a name."
"Hi. My name's Connor." He extended his hand.
"Hi. I'm Tasha, and I'm an alcoholic." She took it, and they both smiled.
"Well," he continued, still shaking her hand, "Now that we're old friends, can I ask why you're sitting alone on the roof chanting your sobriety mantra?" Not wanting to give in (she saw somewhere that being the first to release a handshake was a sign of weakness) she kept on shaking.
"I'm not the biggest fan of parties." Apparently he had seen the same thing she had.
"What, do you go all 'I'm covered in pig's blood, let's kill everybody at the Prom?'" Still shaking.
"No, it's more like, 'I need to get out of here or the giant evil bunny is going to convince me you're all involved in a high-stakes conspiracy.'" Her arm was starting to get tired.
"The conversation will distract you and I WILL win." He narrowed his eyes and the right side of his mouth curved into a devilish little smirk. She matched it with one of her own.
"Did you know that showing one's teeth is a sign of inferiority in chimpanzees?" She countered, watching as his lips began to pull into a full-blown smile.
"I can see that you are a worthy opponent, Tasha, but unfortunately all competition must be crushed." She would have been creeped out if it weren't for the smile that had crept its way up to his eyes. She couldn't quite make out their color in the dim light cast by the other houses on the street and the few passing cars. She'd have to remember to look again if she saw him back inside. Big if. Inside was full of sweaty, gyrating bodies holding red plastic cups, waiting for their turn to puke in the tiny purple bathroom.
"The strong, silent type, I see." Woops, She had gotten lost in her head. Again. Focus. Respond.
"No, just trying to psych you out. Lulling you into a false sense of security. That's when I'll make my move." If the wink she threw at him caught him off guard, he hid it well.
"Move, huh? You got moves?" This conversation was quickly taking a turn. But from what she could see of his face, and the feel of his hand in hers, it was a turn she wouldn't mind taking. She slid the grin from her face and maintained eye contact. With her free hand she reached down and grabbed the bottle of wine sitting at her feet. She brought it to her lips and took a long pull, never breaking from his eyes. Tasha set the bottle down without a sound, and wiped her bottom lip with two fingers.
"Maybe..." she said with a smile. The movement of his arm slowed to an almost stop, and finally his hand dropped from hers. His eyes narrowed again, but stayed a little unfocused.
"Cheater."
"How can I be a cheater if we never established any rules?" Now that she had put a crack in the facade, she kind of enjoyed seeing him blush. "Besides, all's fair in love and war..." But now it was her turn to get flustered.
"So which is it then, love or war?" But hey, she was nothing if not resilient.
"Which do you want it to be?" She was having a hard time holding in the laughter bubbling just below the surface. This conversation was ridiculous. She felt like she was on a bad WB show. If this guy was serious she needed to start thinking of an escape plan.
"Ooo, quite the choice..."
"Well?" Let's see, if he chooses war I'll say I'm a pacifist. If he says love... Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud snort as Connor leaned over laughing.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm really sorry, I just couldn't keep that going any longer. I was waiting for Patrick Dempsey to pop up and say 'Pick me, choose me, love me!'" As relieved as she was that he had been taking this just about as seriously as she had, she couldn't let that go.
"Um, did you just make a Grey's Anatomy reference?" He blushed a little and waved his right hand, as if disregarding everything he had just said.
"I did, but it was just to make sure you'd grasp the concept. I was going to go for a John Cusack reference, but I'm always a little hesitant to throw those out in conversation with someone whose pop culture knowledge I'm not clear on." He smiled begrudgingly, but she wasn't about to back down.
"Our entire interaction up until then was based on a joke from The Office. Shouldn't that have said a little something about the depth of my involvement in Popular Culture?"
"I apologize," he said, as he bowed a little. "I should have been a better judge of your depth." Oh no. She had to...
"That's what she said." Between fits of laughing and coughing he finally managed to choke out a strangled, "Touché." What had she gotten herself into? When they had both stopped wheezing and their breathing had returned to normal, Connor turned to Tasha looking suddenly nervous.
"So..." Here it comes, she thought. The Proposition. He had told the standard number of jokes, made her smile, now he would ask if she wanted to go 'explore the rest of the house, see if they could find somewhere more comfortable.' She was so busy coming up with an excuse that she almost didn't hear him continue.
"Let me preface this by saying that I'm not an ex-con, my car doors do open from the inside, and I'm not going to leave you in a field somewhere."
"You're off to a great start here, Connor..."
"What can I say, I know just what the ladies want to hear." She laughed a little as he polished his fingernails on his shirt. "Which is why I'm going to give you this lovely offer." He put his hands out in front of him, palms up, as if presenting her with a gift.
"Offer away."
"I have a car. I have not been drinking. I have four dollars. I am starving. Would you like to go with me to Taco Bell?" Tasha looked at Connor, her face completely emotionless.
"Connor, not only will I go with you, but I will buy you a caramel apple empanada." His face turned serious as he grabbed her hand.
"This is definitely not war." He kept a hold of her hand as they scrambled back up the roof to the second story window they had originally climbed out of. The undeniably collegiate bedroom was dark, and Tasha realized she still hadn't gotten a good look at her companion. They made their way into the hall leading to the stairwell, Tasha stealing glances whenever she could. He was walking in front of her, so only one side was available for inspection.
Tall. Very, very tall. He had to be at least 6'3". His shoulders were broad under a black hoodie, his hands shoved into the pockets. Peeking out at both the top and bottom she could see hints of a blue and white striped button up. Her eyes continued down, following his slender hips to a pair of light jeans with a small hole next to the left pocket. She could see a hint of his boxers when he put his left leg forward.
Green.
She was smiling at them when he turned his head a little to the right.
"You still with me back there, Ace?" A small smile played on the corner of his mouth that she could see. She would have killed for a great, witty comeback at this point, but the best she could come up with was, "Oh, you betcha." As she looked up with her response she watched as his head turned back forward. Damn. She had missed it. But his hair caught her eye as it moved against the collar of his oxford. The small curls running along the nape of his neck were itching to be sprung, and she fought to keep her hands at her sides. She had never been big on the shag look but the way his dark waves bounced just the tiniest bit as he hopped down the stairs, she was willing to convert. Tasha was so engrossed in wondering whether this was his natural hair color, she didn't notice a discarded coat on the next step. She landed gracelessly at Connor's feet at the bottom of the stairs. And that's when she saw them.
