Like To Be You ✓

ten

I stalk over to the third palm tree from the left of the school's gate, where I find Tyler leaning against the tree, chewing on gum. He looks up just as I reach him and smiles a dazzling smile. It's pure, unadulterated happiness. It makes me want to fucking smile, and again, I'm weirded out by my brain and how it functions.

"What?" I bark.

He laughs. "You sound so angry all the time."

I grind my molars, trying to decide what to say next.

"Stop being so angry all the time, Neil." His says, softly. I blink at him, at his sober face, and the hair curling around his temples, and I stop.

I have a lot to say, but I go with, "Why did you call me here? Do you know how much time it took me to find out which tree you meant? There are palm trees everywhere."

He looks like he wants to roll his eyes. "Third palm tree from the gate, genius. Don't you remember the Beyblade incident?"

"Oh." I accidentally let the small sound of realisation slip out. It happened three years ago, when I had very nearly blinded Mr Blackwell with the Beyblade top I had stupidly launched into the air.

"What. Do. You. Want."

"You know," he begins, "you really, really underestimate me."

I scowl at him; at his sharp, amused face, and it only makes me angrier. I know where he's going with this. "Good luck trying to prove me wrong."

Tyler has the audacity to laugh right in my face. My mind is too busy filled with 37 different ways to kill him to comprehend what's really happening, and then he's trapping me between his hard body and the tree, and I've already lost my breath.

"What are you---" I stop when he leans forward, eyes fixed somewhere on my face, below my eyes. My lips? I don't think so. It can't be. They're chapped and thin and not a sight too special.

"This is so typical." I mutter under my breath, which I've somehow magically found.

He doesn't stop moving. Tyler inches closer and closer, till I can vividly see the constellations of freckles adorning his nose and the apples of his cheeks, closer, till his eyes are now more green than grey, and closer, until I have only a vague concept of what oxygen is and how my body oh-so-desperately needs it.

"I want you to admit that..." his breath is hot against my neck.

"God, Tyler, it's getting too corny. I won't admit I'm secretly infatuated with you or shit."

"...it's minus two."

Ah, well, shit.

"Jesus fuck. Absolutely not. Don't even get me started on that."

He raises an arched brow at me.

"And about the infatuation part," I continue, "it's the other way around."

He looks surprised and adorably confused. "It is?"

"Don't act like I don't notice the stupid woeful looks you give me." I grab his collar and pull him towards me. "You, Tyler Beckett, are very easy to read."

"Ah, damn." He looks disappointed, but then he smiles at me and I let go of his collar.

"Now that we've got past that, what do you want to bet on?" I wipe my sweaty wrists against my shirt.

He looks like a ten-year-old who just got handed a bucket of cotton candy. "If the answer is minus two, we go to the City Centre, you will buy us ice-cream, and you will goddamn smile the entire time."

Oh no. I recoil in horror, not because of the ice-cream part, but because of the smiling part. I have to smile the entire time? I don't think that's possible. Me licking the ice-cream while smiling will only make me look like I need help.

"How dare you." I say.

He fucking smiles, and my heartbeat fucking stutters and I fucking hate it.

"Fine," I draw out when he makes no move to back down. "When Mr Blackwell proudly declares I am in fact, right, and that you are a doofus, we will go to the City Centre and you will swim in the fountain--- you know, the gigantic one--- and I have the right to film you being an idiot."

Tyler gives me a look filled with incredulity. I, on the other hand, smile. This situation will prove to be very advantageous for me as:

1. Tyler is afraid of embarrassing himself in public, a lot.

2. Tyler, this six foot mammoth, will look like a complete dork sploshing around in a public fountain.

"Okay," he says, and now a smile slowly creeps onto his face. "It's a deal."

We shake on it. And I don't wipe my hand.

x

"Hey, little asshole. You're still alive?" I look down at Gregory Hugh Francis, a white feline creature my mother deemed "cute" when she adopted him from a shelter. We call him Greg for short.

His name is a combination of names I don't like very much, and it seems fitting to him. He looks like he could be the mayor of a city. A shitty city for shitty cats who like to puke on my floor and cough up hairballs at the worst of times.

Gregory Hugh Francis hisses at me and claws at my jeans. I push him off with my foot and give him the finger.

"Come on, don't treat him like that."

I nearly scream. Before me, my mother stands in her pyjamas, pretty and short and my momma. I'm rushing to her before I know it, and then the only part decipherable from my view is the top of her head, which is crushed into my shirt.

"I thought you were supposed to come tomorrow!" my voice is breathier than I thought it would be.

Mom laughs into my chest and looks up. She looks tired. Beautiful as always, but tired nonetheless. I smooth my fingers over the crinkles around her eyes.

"Hi, baby." She says, and my heart melts in my chest and suddenly I want to cry. I crush her back to my chest and hold her tight. Gregory Hugh Francis, the greedy little bitch, jumps at our feet to get my mother's attention.

"I missed you so much." I keep my voice in check. I cannot cry. I cry when I am sad. I am not sad now. I feel the complete opposite.

Now I understand why the house felt so different when I entered; the ceramic plates on the walls are dust-free, Gregory Hugh Francis is finally out of his secret hiding spot, and the lamp in the lobby is two inches to the left from its previous position.

"I missed you too, Neil." Mom rubs my back and leans up to press a kiss to my head. I have to bend at an excruciatingly uncomfortable angle for her to do so.

She pulls away and pats my cheek, then takes hold of my arm and pulls me along to the sofa where she sits with a huff. She pats the cushion next to her and smiles up at me.

"So, how was your day?"

o-o-o