“ why are you looking at me like that? ”
it could be the summer heat or your sparkling nerves , in the moment you can’t distinguish it . all you knew was you were profusely , u͟n͟c͟h͟a͟r͟a͟c͟t͟e͟r͟i͟s͟t͟i͟c͟a͟l͟l͟y͟ ͟,͟ ͟ ͟ ͟ ͟c͟r͟i͟m͟s͟o͟n͟ ͟ ͟ ͟t͟i͟n͟t͟e͟d͟ ͟ ͟ ͟ ͟i͟n͟ ͟ ͟ ͟ ͟t͟h͟e͟ ͟ ͟ ͟ ͟f͟a͟c͟e͟ . it was the same kind of flare that ran up your sides into the veins of your neck when you were just on the home stretch of a final inning . only this wasn't a baseball game , & you were hardly doing much running & swinging in your stiffened position . you , who stands so large in any room , are now tucked away in the aisle , right beside the pinball machine , & subsequently , 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 , right beside pinball vance hopper .
he wasn’t even doing much of anything . nothing out of the ordinary for him , anyway . flicking away at the same pinball game he’s always glued to . he must be running the poor thing into disrepair , the way he can play for hours without so much as a break , stacking personal high scores one after the other . you're sure that if he had it his way , he'd play day in & day out without so much as a tickle for sleep . he was damn good at it too . it was cool . h͟e͟ ͟ ͟ ͟ ͟w͟a͟s͟ ͟ ͟ ͟ ͟c͟o͟o͟l͟ .
& yes , you know the stories . he gets sorta violent with some of the kids in your grade ( you’ve seen it first hand & even you’d hate to be on the receiving end of his sucker punch ) but you can't fault him all that much for it . t͟h͟e͟y͟ ͟ ͟ ͟ ͟w͟e͟r͟e͟ ͟ ͟ ͟ ͟m͟e͟a͟t͟h͟e͟a͟d͟s͟ , underdeveloped wasteoids with maggots for brains & you knew it . vance knew it too . & that was the thing about vance : 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 . it was as awing as much as it was a horror scene of a watch .
you hadn’t meant to stare for as long as you were . it was , by your mothers flowery words , p̳o̳o̳r̳ ̳ ̳ ̳ ̳m̳a̳n̳n̳e̳r̳s̳ . you were going to leave about five minutes ago , but you couldn’t help it . there you were . borderline loitering at the convenience store , fingers pressed into the pages of a magazine you never had intention of reading nor buying . & anyone who were paying attention to your expression would know why .
& so it seems : even through the curtain of feral hay-colored hair , he was catching onto you . his voice , rolled in salt , knives through the static of your thoughts without so much as a lift of his head or stutter in his concentration . how long did he know you were watching him for ? the potential answer turns you a deeper shade for good measure .
he wasn’t asking because he gave a damn y͟o͟u͟ ͟ ͟ ͟ ͟f͟i͟g͟u͟r͟e͟ ͟ ͟ ͟ ͟t͟h͟a͟t͟ ͟ ͟ ͟ ͟mu͟c͟h͟ . maybe he thought you were looking for problems too . maybe , he thought , in all your preening stance , you were waiting your turn to indulge in a 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 with pinball vance hopper . though as crisp as your swing is , you’re hardly much of a fighter . the pinball happily clanks around at the top of the machine between the breath it takes you to paint something swift to say .
soft & velvet are you in return , as if you hadn’t been caught right in the dead of your entrancement . ❝ dude , sorry , it’s just . . . you're crazy good at that game . ❞ 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 , genius !
a blade of raven hair slips down prim head : draping in the crossroads of your eyes . it is all but taunting your incomplete composure . still , you do what you do best : play it off . ❝ i don’t think i’ve ever seen anyone get a score that high on pinball before . it’s kinda hard to not be impressed . ❞
the smile that splits through your face practically twinkles , as if the sun were meant to beam onto it . m͟a͟y͟b͟e͟ ͟ ͟ ͟ ͟y͟o͟u͟ ͟ ͟ ͟ ͟a͟r͟e͟ ͟ ͟ ͟ ͟t͟h͟e͟ ͟ ͟ ͟ ͟s͟u͟n͟ . maybe it is you who is lighting up the room & pouring your sunshine in the boy’s jean-clad direction . it is so unconscious & so blatant , all at once . ❝ you’ve got to be like , the best pinball player in denver . that’s a kick ass title , if you ask me ! ❞
* 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚜 ,