Notes:
[f/n]= first name
“It is. So. Goddamn. Hoooooot!” I moan, stretched out on Dave’s bed as a sweaty mess. After my constant insistence, Dave had unplugged a lot of his turntable gear in order to plug in a bunch of fans. But to my disappointment, the fans only managed to blow around hot, humid air.
“Mmbergh,” Dave mumbled, the heat too much for him. “Be hotter than hell’s fire up in here.”
“Ugh,” I groan as I force myself off the bed. I walk over to the Strider, then proceed to rub his cheeks.
“Yo, [f/n], what’re you doin’?” Dave asks, managing to keep his cool despite my random invasion of personal space.
“Seein’ if cool kids can sweat. And,” I say as I remove my hands to wipe the sweat on my pants with a disgusted look, “they so very can.”
I smile as I watch the familiar tightening of Dave’s lips into an unapproving line. The man is pretty good at masking emotions, but I think I have his body language down. “If Frosty the Snowman can sweat, then cool kids can sweat,” he rebukes.
“Frosty doesn’t sweat, he melts,” I tell him with a smirk. My smile drops when the reality of the heat hits me again, making me fling myself back onto Dave’s bed with yet another groan. “This heat is going to make me melt. Do something about this, Strider!”
“I plugged in all these damn fans! What else am I supposed to do? Travel up to space with a shitty sword and force the sun to lower down his heat? Cus’ that’s just oppressive of the sunny man, I don’t approve of racism against stars. What would that be called, starism?”
“Dave,” I interrupt his ramble before it turns into a long conversation with himself, “we need to brainstorm here, man. I’m dying.”
We both go silent as we search our brains for an idea on how to cool ourselves. Then an idea dawns on me. “Hey,” I begin, “you know what you’re good at, Dave?”
“Being smoking hot, in both the metaphorical and literal sense?”
“No,” I bluntly tell him. “You’re pretty darn good at throwing parties. And you know what party is perfect for when it’s hot? Pool parties.”
I watch as Dave’s eyebrows shoot up. “Today, on such short notice?”
“Hey, time is on your side! I know we can manage it! Besides, all you need for a pool party really is a pool, and I know where we can go for one. And obviously you can provide the music. We’re all set!”
Dave mulled over the idea for a second, then nodded his approval. “But will anyone be able to make it?”
“No one wants to miss a Strider party! Don’t worry, I’ll handle contacting everyone. You just focus on getting the party set up! Here,” I say as I grab a pen and a piece of paper and write down on it, “is the address where the pool is. I’m gonna head home and grab my swimsuit and stuff, I’ll meet you at the pool.”
“Why do I gotta do all the hard work in this heat, man?” Dave complains.
“Because you’re the party master, it’s you. I’m just a lowly commoner. See ya’!” I tell him in farewell, and head on home.
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I bite my lip as I stare at myself in the mirror. When it comes to my looks, I have my good days and I have my bad days. Some days I’ll feel confident about how I look, other times I’ll feel unattractive. Today I’m feeling a little insecure, even though I managed to buy a swimsuit I actually like.
