Playing With the King (SAMPLE)

Late Arrivals

Mateo's fist is balled up in my shirt. I gulp, swallowing the panic and mix of attraction the rises to the surface. My heart is threatening to beat out of my chest. I subconsciously bite my bottom lip before replying with, "Okay."

"Text me when you're on your way tonight. Party starts at 8:30," He tells me. Mateo lets go of my shirt. He relaxes back into his chair, focusing his attention on the front of the room. He does so as if our entire interaction just now hadn't happened. I do the same, training my gaze on the front of the room instead of him.

The words on the screen seem as though they're gibberish. It takes me a few minutes to get my heart rate to regulate. Mr. Archer falls asleep in his chair as the slide-show behind him automatically switches slides.

After about half an hour of that, the bell rings, dismissing us from Bio. Everyone bolts for the door. I begin to gather up my things, and Mateo says, "Don't be late." With that, he's gone, and my heart rate is once again elevated.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding before putting my bookbag on. The school isn't far from my apartment. It's only like twenty minutes, maybe thirty minutes. I could probably ride the bus if I wanted to, but I don't really like the idea of a bunch of pompous rich kids knowing where I live.

I wait until the buses have cleared the parking lot to start walking. I arrive home a little after 2:30-ish. Leaving me around ten minutes to fill out the school's paperwork and change for work. It's a ten-minute walk to the bus stop, and I like to arrive before my shift starts.

The paperwork is the basics, address, parent email, parent phone number. The last two are just my email and phone number because what parents? Whoever heard of such an absurd thing?

I head to work to start my shift. Hopefully, my manager will be okay with me leaving early tonight if I offer to work late Monday.

After my exceptionally dull bus ride, I arrive at Chuck E. Cheese. Yes, Chuck E. Cheese America's number one breeding ground of germs and the beloved destination of small children. Luckily I'm working in the back today, so my job isn't incredibly vital to the way things run tonight.

Delilah, my manager, says it's okay if I leave early. I just have to finish the tasks, and she certainly took me up on my working late on Monday offer there's a birthday party happening then. What kind of crackhead has a birthday party on a Monday. I have to make five pizzas and then prep ten more pizzas before I can even think about leaving.

Food duty is my favorite. You can do minimal work and still make just above minimum wage. Which would not be enough to cover the cost of living, so I also work at a local restaurant on the weekends.

My shift passes by as a blur, and I'm pretty positive I zoned out the entire time. I finish with the pizzas at 7:30, so I leave work earlier than I had expected.

I make it home just before eight. I punch the number into my Google Maps to see if it's within walking distance, twenty minutes. Shit. I'm still in my nasty work clothes.

I change into a black Fall Out Boy t-shirt along with a pair of white ripped skinny jeans. I slip on my Vans and put on some very light black eye shadow. I try to make my caramel brown hair a little less awful spoiler alert, it doesn't work. I sigh and make my way out the door, pausing briefly to survey my dull apart meant. I grab the note from my bag. I lock the door needing to protect my shithole and slide the key into my pocket.

I start my walk and pull out the note, entering in Mateo's phone number.

"Hey, it's Finn. I'm on my way." I text. It only takes a minute for the bubbles to pop up to signify he's responding. Not that I was staring at the screen like a middle schooler.

"Hurry, or you'll miss all the fun," accompanied by the purple devil emoji was his response.

I roll my eyes. I save his name as Asshole From School before I slip my phone into my pocket. I survey my surroundings as the street becomes covered by the light of dusk. I reach the house a little after 8:30. 

There's a bunch of cars around my destination. The music can be heard from outside. Lights are flashing in the windows. The house itself is massive. It most likely could fit five of my apartments inside of it and still have room for guests. I take a deep breath. I'm standing in front of the door, debating on whether or not I should knock. I settle for shooting Mateo a text.

"I'm here," I tell him.

"Come in, I'll find you." His response is immediate. I strange stirring in my stomach, butterflies perhaps, begin to start as I think about him waiting for me to text him.

I open the door and, my senses are assaulted by the sounds and the smells of a party. I can feel the music pounding in my body. The stench of alcohol is potent. I scrunch up my nose as I catch a whiff of the smoke, letting me know someone has weed. While I'm not opposed to weed, I wasn't expecting it. You become quite used to the stench after working with highschool drop-outs for a certain number of years. So it's a wonder it still affects me.

I stand stupidly in front of the door. Mateo said he would come and find me, so it feels counterproductive to start wandering around. Instead, I stay where I am, playing with the hem on my shirt like the awkward child I am.

The door hits me as a couple walks in. The girl is dressed like she just came directly from a rock concert, and I respect the hell out of that. This prompts me to move over a bit, so I'm standing in front of a wall instead.

I look around for Mateo, but I must have been looking in the wrong direction because he suddenly appears.

He doesn't say "hi" as a regular human would. No, he presses me against the wall, his hand next to my head and his face inches from my own.

Mateo bites my bottom lip softly before saying, "You're late."