Tea For Two

3

Disclaimer: This is an original work of fiction. These characters belong to me, as well as their lives. Do not steal them from me.

Thanks. Enjoy.

~~~

"Did you see that third baseman's face when I told them?!" Emily squeals. "It was. Un. Real."

"I've got to admit, I've never actually seen anyone's jaw drop that far," I agree.

A few hours have passed and we're sitting on her bed drinking tea again. I feel like we're going to do this a lot.

"And I can't believe you know all of that legal shit about the whole sex... sports team... thing." She says as she sets her mug of tea on the ground and lays back.

"Yeah, well, I sorta did a lot of research when I discovered that I was bisexual."

"...And?" She leads me. "What does that have to do with me being allowed to play baseball with all of those guys?"

"Wikipedia," I say. "You would never guess how far that thing will get you."

She laughs and then sighs.

"Aren't you tired? I'm exhausted." She props herself up for a second and nudges me. "Come on, lay down with me."

This is where the lines start to get hazy- you know those lines. 'I like the girl, but just as a friend.' 'Is she hitting on me, or just being nice?' 'I thought we were just friends, but what is she playing at?' Hugging is one thing- I can hug almost anyone, and it means nothing. Laying down next to each other in another beast entirely.

She's propped on her elbows, still looking at me, still smiling. "Don't worry, shorty."

Shorty. At two inches taller, Emily doesn't exactly tower over me.

"There's plenty of room for you." She raises one of her eyebrows and pats the mattress beside her.

Challenge accepted.

"I'm just not sure," I say. "I mean, it's just a twin sized... I don't think even a toddler could fit beside you on this bed, you ginger Amazonion."

"Please," she snorts, "I could fit you in my pocket, Thumbelina. Lie down."

"And risk getting crushed by one of your massive limbs? Never."

"Lie down with me, tiny," She pouts, "I swear I won't hurt you."

"Nope."

"Please?"

"Nay! I shall never lay myself down beside you, ye incredibly tall beast of the infernal pit!" I say, jumping to stand on her bed, brandishing an imaginary sword.

What can I say? Swagger is an ancient concept.

"Hey August," she says, shaking her head up at me from my feet.

"That's 'Lady Augustine' to you, foul beastie!"

From out of nowhere- I don't even feel her move at first- I'm tackled to the bed. Apparently, imaginary armor is no match for my new neighbor.

In only a few seconds, she's got me in a four-point pin (elbows and knees) to the mattress.

"You swore you wouldn't hurt me," I gasp.

She pays no attention.

"I should tell you," she says, her bright hair hanging down to form a ring around our faces, shielding them from all of our non-existent audience, "I have two little brothers who live with my dad and stepmom in South Dakota. Bath time? It usually goes like this."