Impulse

5. Facade

senirasushipping — because the teasing says it all

***

I'm not going to worry about the wallpaper thing. No, seriously. I'm not.

So what if I've got our picture staring back at me every time I take a call or check my texts? That doesn't prove anything. Maybe I happen to think I look really good in it. Or that Pikachu sculpture in the background is too cute to resist.

Which is exactly what I told him when we took it. I love Pikachu. Not Volkner. For all he knows, I don't even like him.

As we enter the stadium, I'm feeling pretty good about where we stand. He was like, "Nice wallpaper," and I was like, "I know, right?" and that was the end of that. And he hasn't mentioned it ever since.

Granted, I haven't actually spoken to him since. Not because of what happened. Because I've got other things to deal with and other people to talk to. It isn't all about Volkner, you know?

Come to think of it, where is Volkner, anyway?

I don't see him until just before game time, when he reappears at my side with a beer. "Looks like it's you and me again," he remarks, comparing our tickets. "Why am I not surprised?"

Okay, so there's a slight possibility that he's somehow gotten it into his head that I might maybe kind of sort of like him. Just a little bit.

But I won't let it bother me, I swear.

Only this seating arrangement isn't helping. Fantina's at the end of our row, garnering more than a few strange looks as her billowy skirt spills out into the aisle. Next to her is Wake, strategically placed as far from everyone else as possible. Roark's got Byron on his left side and Gardenia on his right. Maylene's between Gardenia and an empty chair, soon to belong to yours truly.

And Volkner? He'll be on the other end, beside me and nobody we know.

I never should have let Gardenia take care of the tickets. I mean, how obvious can you get? She might as well have put us in a private suite full of heart-shaped balloons and pink confetti. Or paid someone to write Candice Loves Volkner on the jumbotron.

As we climb over the others to get to our seats, I'm so flustered, I actually trip.

"Careful." He catches me by the elbow, and I feel a faint blush come over me. "Next time you go to a football game, you might want to rethink those shoes."

To be fair, I had no idea I'd be going to a football game in these shoes. But Volkner thinks I've been planning this all along, so I've got to keep my mouth shut.

And for once, I do. I sit down without a word. I try in vain to position myself comfortably in my cramped plastic chair. I cross one leg over the other, and almost pull a muscle in the process.

Next time I go to a football game—which is hopefully never—I might want to rethink the miniskirt, too.

"I didn't know you were a fan of football," he comments, as the game begins.

"I'm a huge fan," I tell him, with a huge smile to match. "Isn't everyone?"

That's a lie, needless to say. But I've already called it the greatest sport ever. I can't go back on that now, can I?

So I give my hair a playful little flip and lower my voice flirtatiously—if I'm going to be here with Volkner all afternoon, you can bet I'll be making the most of it. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me."