Animals

Day 20

Tuesday, May 29th, Evening

"What is this?" Mitch asked as I jumped out of the parked car. He eyed the empty high school to his right, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"You can't tell?" I smiled to myself, knowing he was following close behind.

"I know what it is, Elle. What I mean is why? Why are we here?"

I knelt in front of the shed door, using a bobbypin to pick the simple lock open. Throwing the lock to the side, I opened the door, pulling out a lacrosse stick, and faced him. "You were the star lacrosse player." I held the stick out to him. "Show me what you got."

Mitch took the stick from me, gazing at it for a second before turning his squinted eyes up to me. "Do you even know how to play?"

"Well... No. Maybe you can teach me." I wasn't necessarily interested in learning, but I figured that teaching me would get his mind off the bad stuff happening for a while. As exhausted as I was leaving my entrappers, I now felt a sudden surge of energy. Dead people don't need to sleep apparently. 

"Okay. This is a long stick," he said. The stick was about five feet long which seemed like an obvious observation.

"Uh, yeah. I can see that."

He chuckled, biting on his lower lip as his eyes began to light up. He leaned in slowly and my smile died as I swallowed back my heart. My breaths got shorter the closer he came, but then he passed my lips. His breath hit my ear and that's where he stopped moving. His scent engulfed me. Sweat and panic, but also remnants of his shampoo from however long it had been since he showered. Considering the state of his hair and jaw, I'd say a solid 3 days. Yet he didn't smell bad at all. Well, not terribly bad.

"First rule," he whispered in my ear, his lips tickling my skin as they moved. My body went stiff as a board, waiting for him to make a move, but all he did was inhale slowly like he was breathing in my scent as well.

Finally, he pulled away from me, a knowing smile on his lips as he noticed my lack of movement. He had a second shorter stick in his hand. "Long sticks aren't used for general practicing. Here." He dropped the stick into my hands and leaned past me to grab a bucket of balls from the shed. This time, he didn't touch me. With his own short stick and the balls, he made his way to the field illuminated by the bright lights.

My cheeks puffed out in a heavy sigh as my eyes followed his tight ass onto the grass. This was definitely a bad idea.

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"Okay! Okay, I'm done!" I heaved, collapsing to the grass as though my body was made of jelly. Mitch laughed and sat down next to me, holding his knees with his inner arms. "You win."

"Did you really expect a different result?" Sometime during the game, he'd removed his shirt. His chest glistened with sweat, the line of hair matted to his skin. I would've been turned on by that if I wasn't so damn jealous. It was hot in these clothes, but I didn't have the luxury of stripping. Damn boobs.

"Well, I was kind of hoping you'd gotten rusty."

"I have."

"Now you're just showing off," I muttered sarcastically. I wasn't too shocked I'd lost, but it could forever be considered my worst loss in history. And I was 98% sure he went easy on me. I had come to the conclusion that this game was the best idea I'd had in a long time. It got both our minds off the bad shit for a few hours. "How did you get into lacrosse anyway?" His smile faltered, and I briefly wondered if I would hit a wall.

He hung his head for a second. "My father taught me and my brother how to play. I was better at it than he was. Got me through to college. I actually haven't played in a long time. It feels good to be back on the field. Different, but good."