to love or lust [mike schmidt AU]

xi.

xi.

[truce]

now i made it awkward
why did you let me do it?
i made it,
i make it awkward

awkward — sza

|"I meant that I bet it feels nice in between my thighs."|

MIKE.

I follow behind Sol, like a lost, uneasy puppy, with my head facing the floor and tail stuck in between my legs. The air feels thick with tension the longer she refuses to look at me or speak to me. Once upon a time, the silent treatment from Sol would have been a dream, but now, it's like I can't stand her cold shoulder. I feel like an asshole, and it's troubling enough that I can't seem to figure out where to start with an apology.

The only audible sounds to drown out our silence comes from the games surrounding us. There's Pac-Man and Street Fighter, both of which fail to capture Sol's attention. This particular section of the arcade holds old-school games, and it does little to make Sol want to play them. All the girl does is make sour faces at them, deeming these archaic games unworthy; but me, on the other hand, I'm itching to play as Ryu, who's my favorite character.

Sol keeps walking. I follow behind her. She makes her way to the back of the arcade, where the modern games reside. There's an 8-Ball pool table, a hockey table, and tucked in the far corner, are where multiple basketball hoops sit. Her eyes linger on these basketball hoops, and her heels dully click away on the colorful carpet, as she struts on up to them.

I shove my hands into my pants pockets, and stand beside her. She pays me no mind as I suffer in silence, burning in shame from the things I've said to her. It doesn't sit right with me.

Leaning against the neighboring hoop, I face away from the game, so that I could keep an eye on us. Although her outfit looks great, she doesn't exactly have eyes on the back of her head to ward off any perverted looks. Not to mention, those assholes at the bar not too far down the street could very easily let their vile, perverted thoughts get the best of them, and attempt to search for her.

I don't know what comes over me, but her silence gets the best of me.

"Sol," I say, producing but a faint whisper of her name. Her chin twitches in my direction. She doesn't face me, though. Sol swipes her game card, and her chosen basketball hoop lights up and plays an obnoxious song. "Sol..."

I watch her intently, seeing as she takes off her purse from her shoulder. It slides down the smooth skin of her arm, to her wrist, in her hands, and she shoves it into my chest, hard. I grunt at the strength she puts behind giving it to me. I take it in my hands, obviously, sighing, swinging the little leather bag in between my legs.

Above the music, I say, "I'm sorry."

She ignores me—this I know would happen.

The basketballs trickle out of their locked gate, and into Sol's hands. She grabs one, and throws it. I hear what sounds like a miss, followed by a breathy curse word.

I continue, raising my voice just a little, saying, "I shouldn't have played this out the way I had. It was a stupid fucking bet to get close to you just so that I wouldn't get evicted. You know, I have two strikes and all... one more and I'm gone. But, if I could take it back, I would."