fight for me

eleven: going up

rosalita.

"oh girl i like you, i do...i wanna be your friend go shopping in da benz, i like you, i do...i hit you in da lane, can you fit me in your plans i like you, i do..."
I Like You (A Happier Song), Post Malone ft. Doja Cat

..................................................................

having a crush also was kind of fun. back when i'd have missions at different schools or new recruits would come to the academy to become a viper. there'd always be that one cute girl or guy who'd catch my eye. making up stupid distracting fantasies in my head. my dad knowing exactly who they were and how to embarrass me in front of them.

but what was funny is it was never ever hard for me to get over them. they were crushes, and usually nothing more. i've had hookups, flings, and all though romantic attraction was slightly there, i never went on dates with them. never talked to them unless it was dirty. always flirty and seductive.

i'm also just a flirty person. i like banter, i like sexual tension. as long as it's harmless.

that's how i know this isn't this. i can gladly attribute this tension to nothing romantic or sexual. not with marcel. yesterday definitely helped me see him in the light of personified trash. nothing better, everything worse. even if his random costume change made me feel things deep inside i only feel when i look at pictures of micheal b jordan. but we're men and women. sexual feelings come and pass. he's not special, and neither is this mission. get on and get out. i keep forgetting my motto.

marcel.

this girl makes me want to be impaled with a spear.

she's fucking crazy?!?

i find myself in THE most awkward silence. it's thick, a solidified presence. i thought about opening the door and just letting myself roll, maybe even run over, but then common sense barely won over intrusive thoughts.

her hands gripped the wheel tightly, almost as if for dear life. her gaze stares straight but i can feel the little peaks she gives. her face blank, emotionless. she looks like a black rose, in sunlight, soft droplets on her petals.

what if i crushed her petals one by one.
that's how much despise i feel.

my thoughts are interrupted by the black rose herself, she stops the car in front of a a nice looking hotel. something in her eyes changes and she becomes focused. she turns to me.

"Ok, pasty skinny white boy? he's a local con artist, good with a lot of guys in the vipers, but not apart of it, dude can't fight for shit, but his head?" she lets off

"He's clever. He can fuck around with you. So i'm gonna need you to gather some backbone." she asserts.

"I have backbone." I retort back
her eyebrow cocks at me doubtingly. i want to wipe that look of her face.

"Do we not remember our first meeting. "Wah i need justice!" "Wah help me!" Ring a bell?." She scoffs.

"Do you ever not have a smart ass remark?" I say

"Do you ever grow balls?" she mumbles.

my eyes narrow, mostly out of discernment.

"Ok, this whole "industry"," she air quotes

"They're all bluffing. It's an act, mind tricks if you will. Only when you've won, is when your true mission or "reason" can ever be known."

she rolls her eyes.