Kissing Oli (on hold)

b e f o r e

I WAS ONLY KIDDING MYSELF when I thought I'd be able to beat Leila at beer pong.

My stupid ass thought that me, a girl with zero hand-eye coordination, can take on a basketball player on her way to going pro. 

I was slurring my words by the sixth cup making all my trash talk in no way trashy. I was lucky I even got two shots in, but the two cups had no effect on Leila. I don't think two cups of beer have an effect on anybody, really.

Leila doubles over in laughter when, again, she gets another shot in and I almost wanted to cry.

"The game is rigged," I protest, reaching for the ball inside the cup before drinking the content. It wasn't, of course, because I don't think it's possible to rig beer pong but I just really wanted to blame someone (or something) for all my sucky-ness. "My cups have magnets and they're attracting the ball!"

"Maybe you should get magnet implants so you can attract Oli's balls," Leila shouts from across the table.

I give her the finger and wrinkle my nose. And like a wild animal whose wounds have been poked at, I scream with the utmost conviction. "Don't even—I'm saying that this game is dirty. And for the record, Oli's balls are spotless!"

"You don't know!" Leila screams and we laugh aloud like the idiots that we are.

To be fair, I really do not know about the state of cleanliness of Oliver's genitals. But considering how he always left the bathroom smelling fresh with a hint of lavender, something tells me every part of him is scrubbed clean.

I chuck the ping pong ball in one of Leila's cups but it goes straight into the dirt by her feet.

"What's with Oli's balls?"

I freeze as I hear Mark's voice from behind me. I turn my head so fast I'm sure I have given myself a whiplash.

He's looking at me funny with a big teasing smile on his boyish face. 

Unlike Oliver whose face is perpetually kind and smiling, Mark's default expression is that of a teasing smirk. He always has the look of the cat that got the cream. 

And with the way my heart drums in panic, it's obvious that the cat who got the cream has also got my tongue.

"Oli's ball?" Leila asks feigning indifference. "Hm... What is with Oli's balls?"

"You tell me," Mark says with his eyebrows wiggling, his smile is so goddamn wide I want to wipe it off of his stupid face. "What's with Oli's balls, Lun?"

"Huh?" I stupidly say. My fuzzy brain offers me nothing smart to retort but it has no problem sending blood up to my cheeks and to the tips of my ears.

"Olive oil!" Leila shouts as a lame thought comes to her to diffuse the situation.

As soon as the words roll off Leila's mouth my heart plummets to my stomach. I cover my face with my hands because olive oil doesn't even sound anywhere near "Oli's balls".

Leila is crazy. 

Mark is gonna talk. 

I will die.

But she is relentless so with even more conviction, she shouts, "We were talking about olive oil, Mark. Get your head out of the gutter."

"Uh-huh. Olive oil. Sure," he says with the same teasing tone. Then he looks at me and winks. He. Fucking. Winks. "If you play nice, Lun, I might just ask Oli if they're clean or not."

At that moment, my jaw has greeted the floor with a smack. 

I. Wanted. To. Die. 

Mark has heard mine and Leila's stupid banter. There's no use denying it and my life is basically over.

God, I'd like to die now please, I thought.

Then he laughs aloud and drops his arm on my shoulders, "I'm kidding. You're my favorite college girl. I'm never gonna meddle with your Oli business. Secret's safe with me."

I let out a sigh of relief and turn so I can fully embrace him. He's a lot taller than my embarrassingly shorter five-foot-six and I can only reach his chest.

"You're a dick," I say as I tump the back of his head.

He laughs again, causing his pecs to move my cheek, making me laugh with him. Then he declares in the most serious of tones, "For the record, mine are clean."

"Gross!" Leila shouts.

I burst out laughing, unchaining myself from his embrace, but not fast enough before something collides with my head. I turn to see the ping pong ball fall next to my shoes. 

"That is not for you, Luna. I'm sorry. I love you," Leila adds before turning to look and point an accusatory finger at Mark. "You! You are a gross human being. That's not information we wanted to know!"

"I'm just saying!" Mark shouts back, a smug smile on his face. "I volunteered the information so you didn't have to ask!"

"We are not interested in the first place! You're so gross," Leila retorts. And with the voice of a petulant child, she pouts then continues, "And I thought I was your favorite college girl!"

In just a few long strides, Mark is face to face with Leila, his arms on either side of her face. "You were. My number one," he says with indignation. "Until you left my balls for something orange."

She scoffs, "You can't blame me. Yours don't bounce."

"You don't know. It just might...once handled correctly," Mark says with a teasing tone, his lips curling in yet another smirk. "You shou—"

"—should stop," I quickly cut him off. "You should stop. Oh my god, my ears. I'm not drunk enough for this!" I reach for the nearest red cup and drink everything in one gulp.

And finished off three more just so I don't have to listen to Leila and Mark's dirty banter. My hazy mind's telling me that something's going on with those two, been going on for awhile now, but Leila will tell me when she's ready.

"I'm going inside!" I declare with a pointed look. "I'm going to leave you, dirty kids, alone."

"You okay, Lun?" Leila asks, looking at me funny. "Want me to come with you?"

"I'm fiiiiine."

"You don't sound fine," Mark interjects, laughing a little. "You sound drunk. Can you even see us clearly? I'm kissing Leila."

"Gross!" Leila laughs, smacking him on his arm. Mark says ouch with so much exaggeration I have to roll my eyes. He looks at her with a hint of playfulness coupled with mischief.

"I'm gonna get you back for that, you know..." he threatens playfully.

"Baby, you can try." Leila winks at him before running and letting out a shriek when Mark catches her in less than a second.

I look at those two and thought that no matter how crazy comfortable Mark and I are, we would never have that same ease with each other. The same way I know Leila and Oli would never be this comfortable with each other even when they both like each other's company.

They get each other the exact same way Oli and I just kind of click.

I can't grasp—and I've been trying to grasp it for years now—how Oli seems to just fit in my life. Maybe it's my undying feelings for him or maybe it's just him and his ways and how he seems to know the exact moment to hold me when I didn't even want Leila to see me cry.

He may not be as easy-going as Mark (who just makes a joke out of everything) but he, somehow, makes things a whole lot easier for me, lighter, better.

I smile and (with all these thoughts of Oli circling in my head) decide that I'm drunk and I need a glass of water pronto.

So I turn my back from those two—still running around laughing and oblivious of my stare—lost in a bubble that they created.