Nerdy Prudes Must Laugh

You're Not Off the Hook

Phone raised above her head, Steph snaps a quick selfie and tucks the device back into her pocket. She's gotten better at not compulsively recording her every waking moment, clinging onto experiences so fiercely that she tears them to shreds. Memories slide undocumented into her mind, nestling sweetly in between the folds of thoughts, and congeal into a pleasant sheet over her psyche. Having photos to look back on is nice, but it feels just as nice to forget about her phone and melt into the here-and-now.

This time, they're at Ruth's place, all piled onto her bed watching a film on her room's little TV. Ruth has a chair and a beanbag and enough plushies to form a second bed, but it's more fun to all huddle up in one place, a living tumbleweed of interlocking limbs. Steph is positioned on Pete's lap, with Richie on one side and Ruth on the other, holding an overstuffed plush cat; they're all packed so close that the selfie caught all of their happy, drowsy faces. Still full from pizza earlier in the night, sleepiness washes back and forth across the pile of losers, a summery warm tide.

'See, this isn't how airplanes work.'

Pete's the only one still paying any attention to the film. Richie is dozing off, thumbing through a manga from Ruth's collection, and the aforementioned redhead is struggling to keep her eyes open, letting out tired little yawns and mewls of surprise whenever she nods herself awake. One arm wrapped around Steph, Pete uses the other to point at the screen.

'A bullet hole like that wouldn't bring the whole plane down unless it hit, like, the fuel tank or something. The pressurization system would make up for it. To bring down an aircraft of that size with one bullet, they'd have to either get really lucky or shoot out a window. That'd cause some issues.'

'God, you're such a nerd.' Steph squeezes his knee gently, earning a jolt and a yelp of protest. 'The film's about a sentient tornado or whatever, is this the first problem you've had with the movie's logic?'

'Everything else makes sense in the established canon. I can accept a sentient tornado, but I draw the line at aircraft engineering-based inaccuracies.'

Snorting, Steph reaches over to goose his knee again, but Pete's quicker and he digs his fingers into her side, wiggling them before he realizes what he's done. The nerds tickle each other all the time, but not Steph, never Steph, she's too cool for that, she's probably not even ticklish, but here she is: a snickering crumpled puddle in his lap, elbows pressed tight to her body to protect her delicate sides. Something dark and urgent flares inside of Pete and he squashes it down, swallowing a lump like hot coal in his throat.

Everyone is at full attention. The sleepy tide has ebbed away, leaving behind a tense glassy silence broken only by the nonsensical dialogue on the television. Richie sets the manga down and Ruth leans forwards, eyes bright with glee.

'Oh, so Little Miss Lauter is ticklish too, hm?' Richie says with a taunting smirk. He's such a dork, talking like an anime villain, but Steph can admit that it does work sometimes. 'How long were you planning on hiding this from us?'

'I mean,' Ruth adds with a nervous, excited gulp, 'She wears a crop top every day, she's not really hiding anything, is she, Pete?'

The look on Pete's face is one of conflicting emotions. He wraps his arms around Stephanie defensively, like a shelter dog protecting his food bowl. Even his legs close in around her, forming a gangly cocoon.

'Come on, guys. Not Steph, we talked about this.'

Steph looks up. 'Talked about what?'

Squirming uncomfortably, Pete hugs her close. 'These two assholes are real tickle monsters, and I don't mind it, but I didn't want them bothering you. I know it's weird that we do this so often, so I was worried that if they tried tickling you, you'd get freaked out, and-'