Dingus | Robin Buckley x Reader

Chapter Two|Three American dollars

I sit on my chair, tucked into my dressing table. I apply light concealer, foundation, and a bit of blush. I think about my lips, if we are going to be kissing and don't want anyone to know, we can't really wear lipstick. Stumped, I eventually settle for a cherry lip balm.

I close my makeup case and go downstairs, my oversized jumper hugging the top of my thighs which are cased in blue denim jeans. Sighing, I fling myself on the sofa, waiting for Robin to arrive.

"Why isn't she here?" I moan to no-one in particular. My parents are away on a business trip so I had the house to myself.

I wait for what feels like an eternity but is actually five minutes before I get fed up and call Robin's house.

"Hello?" her mother answers the phone.

"Hi, it's y/n. I was wondering where Robin is, she's supposed to be here by now," I say, trying to mask my worry.

"Oh, she headed out maybe half an hour ago. Let me know when she gets there, please, we're worried about her too."

"Thank you. I will, Mrs. Buckley. Bye," I hang up the phone, wondering why my girlfriend wasn't here yet and that if anything had happened, I'd murder someone.

The doorbell rings. I pull myself from the sofa and run to the door. My fingers stumble over the locks, I'm trying to undo them that quickly. I eventually open the door and is met with a freckled face.

"Where the hell were you?!" I shout at her.

"Chill," she says, "I was trying to outrun some people."

"Are you in trouble?" I frantically ask, letting her in.

She takes off her blue coat which I always try to steal and pegs it on the coat rack. "No, it was a friend."

"Don't you think you should have called? I was so worried," I say, on the verge of tears.

"It's only been ten minutes. I'm sorry."

I look at her with tear-filled eyes before she pulls me into a hug and the tears spill.

"I was so fucking worried about you," the voice sounds broken, unfamiliar, and I pull out of the hug, hitting her gently on the arm. "Don't do that to me again."

"I won't," she says shamefully.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," I wipe the tears away, "I need to call your parents."

It takes me two minutes to tell Robin's mom that she's here, then putting Robin on the phone. When we hung up, I led her to my room where the TV and VHS player was already set up at the end of my bed.

"So, what'd you want to watch?" I ask as I sort through my movies on the shelf near my door. "I have The Breakfast Club, Sixteen Candles, Nightmare on Elm Street..."

"You have a lot of Molly Ringwald movies," she simply states, sat on my bed.

"What can I say, I like her movies. So..." I look at Robin, "decided yet?"

She mulls the question over for a second before she walks over to me and hugs me from behind. "I don't really care."

"Breakfast Club it is then." I position my body closer to Robin's, I love her so much and I never, ever want her to go away from me.

*

We watch as Judd Nelson raises his fist in the air, he has got the girl. The credits roll across the scene, Don't You Forget About Me by Simple Minds playing.

"Wow, what a soppy film," Robin teases.

"It is not," I defend.

"The basket case? Really?"

"She's meant to be weird," I say.

"Ok," she laughs.

I sigh, knowing I wouldn't win the argument. Instead, I ask her if she wants to play our game, guessing what record is playing, who by, and what year. If we get one right, we get a kiss. If we get one wrong, there are no kisses. Whenever Robin gets one wrong, she sulks and ends up getting more kisses than she would have done if she got it right so it defeats the object of the game.

"No, I don't want any kisses withheld," she says.

I chuckle, both of us know that would never be the case. We settle on prank calling Steve, this is one of our favourite games to play. Weirdly, he never expects that it's us even though we do it so often. He has his own apartment now so we can't get caught up with his parents answering the phone.

Robin picks up my candy pink dial-phone, fitting with my room's aesthetic. I didn't get to choose the colour of my room, my parents wanted to push me to be girly. Their efforts were in vain.

"Hello," Robin says in a fake Chinese accent. I giggle. "Have you got pipes?"

I can hear Steve's confusion on the other end of the phone and I try to suppress my laughter.

"I fix for you," she continues, "I fix for three American dollars." Robin waits for Steve's response and when she gets one, she purses her red, plump lips and swallows her laughter. "Yes, it's enough. 500 yen."

Steve's quiet, vague voice says something about how America is rich compared to France. My mind recalls that he failed Geography.

"No, not France. China," Robin says, a grin on her face. "Monday morning. What your address?" She waits for Steve to answer, which was totally unnecessary. No Chinese plumber would be coming on Monday. "I be there." Robin hangs up the phone and we both erupt into fits of laughter.

"He's such an idiot," I say between gasps for air. My stomach starts to hurt, I'm laughing that hard.

"He's a dingus and a moron," she shouts, giggling.

"Moron!" I shout, my voice tainted by laughter.

Robin starts to calm down and so do I. I look at Robin, we both are on our backs from laughing so hard. I see her chest rise and fall as she lightly giggles. Being around Robin makes my life 300 times better and funnier. I appreciate her so much, she's so kind and smart. And so pretty.

I roll onto my front and crawl to Robin. She smiles up at me and I memorise her cherry lips, her pearly teeth, her cute nose. I lean myself down to kiss her and she kisses me back.

How can someone be so perfect?