game on | lucaya

n i n e t e e n

bananas and boyfriends

_____

It's been a week since the whole whiskey bonbon situation. We all swore not to breathe a word about what happened - it's better that way.

And being the bad friend I am, I never noticed that Riley Matthews was bisexual.

"It doesn't really matter anyway, I only have eyes for Farkle now," she grinned at me when I told her about what she when she was drunk. "Don't act any different from usual, okay? It's not weird or anything, I just know how to appreciate girls too!"

"What? Why didn't you ever tell me?" I ask incredulously.

"I thought you would think it was weird and back off," Riley admits sheepishly. "I really value our friendship, Peaches, and I didn't want a little secret like this to ruin it."

Smiling, I extend my arms out to pull Riley into a hug. "Riles, do you really think that a small thing like your who you prefer would come in the way of our friendship?"

She grins and wraps her arms around me too. "You know, at first, I thought Missy Bradford was quite hot."

I pull away from Riley and punch her in the shoulder. "As much as I support you, Missy Bradford probably has had a ton of plastic surgery performed on her face."

I also managed to address Lucas Friar's charade as a clingy dog.

"Let us never speak of that incident ever again," I had said, to which he nodded solemnly.

"By the way, I'm glad your allergies didn't act up that day I was over at your house, I changed my shampoo," he smiles.

"Oh yeah, um, thanks," I stutter and my face flushes bright red.

And Farkle and his desire to take over the presidential elections.

When I informed him about his little chant, he snorted. "A drunk man speaks a sober mind. I plan to take over America before taking over the rest of the world."

I will never let any of these fools near anything slightly alcoholic ever again.

_____

In school, I received a fluorescent yellow post-it.

Are you a banana because I find you really a-peeling! with a banana with winking face on the right.

Oh God. This is so bad I might go bananas. I'm sorry, I couldn't help it.

Anyways, it's very likely that this post-it is from Malcolm Bradford, that cheesy guy. It's been a while since I've gotten one of these.

Suddenly, it gets snatched out of my hand and being read out aloud by Riley.

My face goes bright red as everyone breaks into hushed whispers, occasionally pointing an accusing finger towards me.

Suddenly, someone slings an arm around my shoulder.

"Get off, Hucklebe-" comes my instinctive response. But I turn around and see a different face.