Extremity

12 | Rylie

Being normal is fun. I like being normal. I wish I could be normal more often.

Thomas seems like a very normal guy. He pulls up the bus schedule and we find the one that goes back to my apartment. The next one heading back here is about an hour from now, so that gives us some waiting time.

We have moved to a small bench in a small little field not too far from the busy and crowded city. Thomas sits right next to me, his thigh touching mine, backpack at his feet in front of him, looking around and whistling happily.

"You're whistling the Thomas the Tank Engine theme song," I feel the need to point out after a while of listening to him whistle.

"You got it! It took you long enough!" he grins toothily and nudges me. "I was beginning to think you were deaf, or hadn't seen the show."

"Well, you should be glad to know I am none of those." I inform him, then find myself smiling back.

Was this what normal felt like? Two young people sitting on a bench, talking about a stupid kid's show about a train with a face on it. This had to be the definition of normal. Better than anything I've ever felt.

"So," he claps his hands together. "We have an hour to kill before we head back to your apartment, which you have so graciously offered to me. Thank you by the way."

"Of course."

"What would you like to do until then? I mean, we could just sit on this bench and stare at these lovely pigeons, or we could venture out into the city! Live a little! Y'know?" he glances at me with his brown eyes.

"Um, sure," I was secretly hoping he would say that. As much as I loved sitting next to him, I wanted to do stuff with him. I wanted to be normal with him. I'm glad he read my mind. "What should we do?"

"I asked you first. You choose."

"No, you choose."

"No, Rylie, you choose."

"No, Thomas, you!" I try to match his intimidating glare but I can't help but giggle.

"You are being really immature right now," he says. "Can I just call you Really Immature Rylie from now on?"

"What? That's -"

"Blah blah blah, Really Immature Rylie is trying to tell me something but I can't hear her! Blah blah blah!" he shouts, covering his ears.

"Speak for yourself," I retort, and give him a playful shove. To my surprise, he shoves me back with full force, sending me almost flying off the bench. "Whoah, watch it! I'm ticklish there!"

His eyes light up with a mischievous glint, making my heart go 0-100 real quick. "Oh, ticklish, are we?" his hands lunge out and start squirming their way around my waist, my weak area. You know how Superman's weakness is Kryptonite? Well, mine would be tickling. My waist, more precisely. Of course, no one knew this, which was probably why I had never been defeated. Unfortunately, Thomas seemed keen on taking that away from me now.

I can't help but laugh loudly as he tickles me. I try to squirm out of his grasp but he's holding me too tight.

"What would you like to do, Really Immature Rylie?" he cackles triumphantly. I try to say something witty back but end up wheezing up air out of laughter, like a sick old man. I'm sure he loved getting my spit all over his face. "Just tell me what you would like to do and I'll stop."

Of course I'd love to be freed from this torture, but I couldn't give in! No matter how cute and attractive and funny I found Thomas I would not give in! I would fight until the end! Until death! Which was probably going to happen, because if he didn't stop tickling me soon he'd probably poke an artery or I'd pass out from laughing too much, if that was even possible.