Alex Faulkner (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
videokilledme) wrote2018-01-11 12:21 am
videokilledme) wrote2018-01-11 12:21 am
“And The Rest Is (World) History.” Alex, Bianca. (Persona Dreamscape) - Chapter Five
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"And The Rest Is (World) History." Alex, Bianca. (Persona Dreamscape) - Chapter Five
[music]
“What was that all about? Last night at the racquetball courts, I mean,” Alex asked Bianca before class the next morning, and she sputtered into an abrupt peal of laughter loud enough that Dr. Pace, who had just stepped into the room, gave her an oblique look of faint reproach as he made his way to the lectern.
“This is totally super ridiculous, but okay, I’ll let you in on it. It’s called ‘The Jackson Challenge,’ ” she chuckled with a little more restraint, leaning back in her chair and grinning over at Alex with a fierce competitor’s glint in her eyes. “It’s a Tuesday night tradition at the gym. If someone can beat me in racquetball, best two out of three matches, then I have to go on a date with whoever challenged me.”
Alex blinked, which did nothing to break the disbelieving stare he’d fixed her with. “...And...people actually do this? You actually do this?” It was a stupid question with an obvious answer, but he couldn’t help it; he’d seen it in action with his own eyes, and yet he still couldn’t believe it. He could imagine few things worse than being forced to play nice and go on a date with someone he wasn’t even interested in...though going on a date with someone he was interested in sounded almost as harrowing.
Bianca gave an offhanded shrug, tipping her chair backwards onto its two rear feet. “Yep, we actually do. I even had to change the rules so that it’s exclusively Tuesdays, and people can only challenge me once a month, and then only if there isn’t anyone else who’s never taken the challenge before waiting for a turn. Otherwise all I’d do every time I hit the gym or get some free time is play racquetball, and while I do like it...that would get pretty old pretty fast.” Absently, she rocked back until the chair made contact with the desk behind her. “I get plenty of challenges--mostly dudes, though there are always a few ladies…” She trailed off, and Alex shot her a wary look as a wicked grin slowly spread across her face, though she was looking straight in front of her and simultaneously back into her memories. “...But I’ve never actually had to go on a date with any of them. I’ve never lost.”
After what he’d seen of her play-style last night, Alex didn’t have any trouble believing that, and he promptly told her as much, which just made her grin all the wider. “Y’know, Alex, you seem preeeeetty hung up on this…” Turning the full focus of her attention on him, she let her chair rock back down onto all four feet, the front two hitting the floor with a tooth-jarring clack. “Planning on taking that challenge yourself sometime?”
Her smile was teasing and provocative in maybe more than just one way, but there was something else to it, something Alex couldn’t figure out how to read; so he busied himself with his notes, looking down and away and this time not blushing even slightly. Better not to give her the satisfaction.
“Hah,” he said, managing to curve his mouth in what he hoped was a passable approximation of a cynical, amused smile. “Yeah, right. Even supposing I wanted to take the challenge, I already know that you’d blast me into next week, so why should I put myself through that kind of pain and public humiliation?”
For the barest moment, Bianca was giving him that analyzing, narrow-eyed stare again, and Alex felt a jolt of panic, wondering if he’d insulted her somehow without meaning to, if he’d taken the banter too far; but in an instant that scrutinizing almost-glare had vanished, replaced by a smile so bright that he wondered if he’d really seen the other look on her face at all, or if it had just been his imagination.
At that moment, Dr. Pace addressed the class with his usual greetings, giving everyone a chance to return to their seats and quiet down as he climbed the stairs and handed the attendance sheet off to the student on the uppermost right side of the room.
Bianca took advantage of that short pause to lean in, a playful light gleaming in her eyes. “You never know,” she half-whispered, and as was far too often the case, Alex found that he couldn’t resist looking over at her as she spoke. “I might go easy on you...just for curiosity’s sake.”
She was looking him straight in the eyes, so he couldn’t look down or away without being completely obvious about it; but really, he was so startled that he didn’t have a chance to think about his reaction at all. All he could do was give her a reflexive wide-eyed blink, his lips parting in a silent, quick intake of air. What’s that supposed to mean, he wanted to ask--and it was a genuine question, because while words themselves were generally simple to understand, what people really meant by them could vary wildly. Bianca herself had been pretty straightforward up to this point, aside from a bit of clearly non-serious flirting, but...well, it was best to ask and be sure, to leave no room for doubt-
But before he could say those five words, Dr. Pace was already addressing the class, launching into today’s lecture about the Heian Period of Japan, and Alex knew better than to try to talk over, or under, the sharp-eyed World History professor.
By the time the class was over an hour later, he’d had time to process the whole conversation, and he’d decided that she was just kidding. Honestly, no other interpretation really made any sort of sense, which meant he shouldn’t dwell on it. It didn’t really mean anything, Bianca was just being Bianca: playful, teasing, extroverted, and unreserved.
He was even more certain of his analysis after class when, the instant Dr. Pace had dismissed them, she turned to Alex and said without preamble, “So, we have a game tonight.” She sounded for all the world as if they were currently in the middle of a long conversation, as if she was simply picking up right where they’d left off an hour ago, or at least very nearly so.
Alex didn’t pause or look up from packing away his things--he had Journalism next, and it was a bit of a haul to get across campus in time--and simply gave an acknowledging, noncommittal hum.
Bianca seemed to be waiting for something more from him, but when he didn’t offer anything else, she pressed on with, “Are you coming?”
Alex looked up at her as he slung his bag across his chest, pierced eyebrow raised. “Coming where?”
Bianca let out an exasperated huff as she stood and settled her own backpack on her shoulders. “To the game, of course!”
Alex went still for a moment, looking down as he fidgeted with one of the numerous safety pins lodged in the strap of this messenger bag, considering what he wanted to say, weighing the words before looking up at her again and speaking them with careful deliberation. “...Are you asking if I’m going, or are you asking me to go?”
Catching Bianca off-guard with the things he said was always interesting, and generally caught him by surprise as well, since he didn’t manage to do it terribly often. She tended to roll with whatever he threw out, no matter how prickly or sarcastic it was, but it did happen on occasion: now, apparently, was one of those times. He’d expected her to laugh at how precise and exacting he was being with that question, to lightly say something amusing and mildly absurd, like I’m asking you to go, silly, I want you there to cheer me on! and maybe add something like my roommate’s got a real cute cheerleading uniform you could borrow, too, if you want if she was really feeling like giving him trouble over it. Instead...instead she blinked at him in surprise, green eyes going wide, then cutting away quickly, the smile that she forced to her face as they left the classroom behind clearly fake. “I’m--asking if you’re going.”
Alex wasn’t sure how to read that, why his question would’ve given her such a strange turn, but he wrote it off as Bianca not wanting to give him the wrong idea about things. So as they made their way down the sidewalk, he gave another hum, this one only vaguely thoughtful, more indifferent and dismissive than anything. “Probably not.”
“Why not? It’s important--it’s our first official game!”
Because I don’t care about sports? Because I know nothing about volleyball? Because I have homework? Because I haven’t touched my keyboard yet this week? Because my dad still treats me like I’m 12 and gives me all sorts of shit if I’m out later than 8:00? They were all valid excuses, and they were all true, but they still weren’t the real reason Alex didn’t want to go. Because I already think you’re amazing, the most incredible person I’ve ever met, and how much I already like you scares me more than a little. That was closer to the mark, and what he believed to be The Real Truth; but the actual bulls-eye was something that Alex himself would’ve denied adamantly, something he knew only subconsciously at this point:
Because I don’t want to run the risk of falling in love with you.
“I’ve got work,” he said instead of giving one of the myriad of real reasons, though when Bianca’s face fell, he relented enough to add, “Well, I’m supposed to be on the schedule tonight, at least...but my boss might’ve forgotten to update it.”
Alex had gotten that job at the music equipment rental shop, and he’d been in to sign the paperwork that weekend. His new boss, Duncan, was very chill but also something of a stoner, the kind of guy who said ‘dude’ or ‘man’ in every sentence, forgetful and flighty and kept at all on-track only by Keiji, his longtime friend and even longer-time-suffering assistant, who didn’t always correct his mistakes out of sheer low-key passive-aggressive spite. Alex already knew that his Wednesday hours hadn’t been added to the schedule and that Keiji hadn’t fixed it, which would leave Duncan to cover the evening shift alone. And serves him right, Alex could hear Keiji saying in his deadpan undertone. Sorry about the missing work hours, Alex. I’ll get you a DJ gig this weekend to make it up to you, if you want. Alex very much did want--it had been far too long since he’d gotten to do anything but play around on his turntables and synthesizer--and Keiji had followed through, somehow getting him the opportunity to DJ at a very cool up-and-coming local club. They shouldn’t ask, but just don’t tell them you’re not 21, and we won’t have any problems, Keiji had added, and Alex had resolved to do his best to make himself look as mature as possible that night. Basically, as far as Alex was concerned, Duncan was okay, but Keiji was Good People, and Alex liked him.
In any case, he probably didn’t actually have to go in to work tonight...but Bianca didn’t have to know that.
Bianca let out another little huff, and Alex relaxed: this one sounded much more like her usual intentionally silly behavior. “If it’s work, I guess you can’t really get out of it, especially since you probably only just started there…” The sidewalk they were walking down branched off in two different directions, one heading towards the building with Alex’s Journalism class in it, the other leading towards Bianca’s Fluid Mechanics I class; Bianca paused long enough at the split to flash Alex a confident grin. “...But if you’re not on the schedule, promise me that you’ll come! Okay?”
Her smile was, as always, contagious, and Alex found one corner of his mouth curling upwards just slightly. “I’ll think about it,” he said in a tone that made it plain that what he was really saying was no promises, then he continued on down the sidewalk, trying to hurry without looking like he was hurrying, and never once looking back.
Just as he’d said he would, Alex did think about it.
A lot.
Possibly too much, really, but that was typical: he tended to have a habit of getting stuck in his own head and overthinking things anyway, so this wasn’t exactly unfamiliar territory.
He didn’t want to go. He had no interest in sports, and he didn’t owe Bianca anything, and if she didn’t want him there enough to ask him to come, then why should he bother? That should’ve been the end of it. Normally it would have been. Nothing seemed to be quite normal when Bianca was involved though, all his thoughts just slightly uneven or left-of-center, which was frustrating and intriguing in turns, but mostly frustrating. Even worse was the way that his feelings, generally easy to ignore or put aside as necessary, were somehow magnified, given an inordinate amount of weight and a level of importance that they certainly didn’t merit, enough so that it made him want to dig in his heels and force himself not to care, not to go.
But.
But, he couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he’d basically lied to her. He knew he didn’t have to work tonight, and yet instead of giving one of the other valid excuses, somehow...
You don’t owe her the truth. Not when she was trying to pressure you into going somewhere you clearly had no interest in going. While that thought wasn’t wrong, Alex didn’t like it. If you weren’t honest, if you didn’t want to be honest with someone, then you didn’t really want to be their friend, at least that was his way of thinking. He had no time for people who were fake or insincere, and he loathed the idea of being one of them; there were more than enough people like that out there in the world already without him adding himself to their ranks. So, no, he didn’t owe her the truth. But...he wanted to give it to her regardless of that, or at least make up for all but lying to her face.
And the only way to do that, really, was...to go to her game. Alex gritted his teeth at the idea--he’d done everything he could to avoid going to games back in high school, but they’d used the gym’s sound system, and as a part of lights & sound crew for the drama club, he’d oftentimes been tapped to get the system up and running, and sometimes even had to play MC when no one else wanted the job. Every time that had happened, he’d spent the entire game bored out of his skull, regardless of what sport it was, wishing for it to be over as quickly as possible and only paying enough attention to introduce players as they subbed in for the first time, or whatever else needed to be announced.
He didn’t think he would be any more interested now, even if Bianca was playing. But then, this isn’t about you, is it. This is an apology--you’re not supposed to enjoy it. Alex didn’t like that thought either, but it also wasn’t wrong.
In fact, it was entirely right.
Alex Faulkner didn’t slink into the gym fifteen minutes late. He was on time, a little early actually, and instead of his usual in-your-face punk rock style, he was dressed almost plainly in black skinny jeans, stylish men’s boots, a charcoal-grey t-shirt, and a black knitted sweater-jacket with a hood that he kept pulled up, though not high enough to conceal his face. He’d gone easy on the jewelry also, one silver stud in the upper cartilage of one of his ears and a single lip ring the only hardware on display tonight.
He wasn’t certain where to sit, but he figured that the side with all the people dressed in Carrington’s royal blue and silver-grey was the right one, so he knew that much, at least. In the end he settled for a place in the first row along the balcony rail, where no one could sit in front of him and block his view. It was a good thing he’d gotten there early, he soon realized, because before long the stands were packed; despite his lack of friendly smile and his complete unwillingness to engage in any sort of small-talk, the seats on either side of him were claimed quickly, and he sighed to himself as the lady to his left unintentionally jabbed him in the ribs with her oversized purse.
For the time being he’d left his headphones on, taking refuge in his music, using it to drown out the irritating sounds of the (far too many) people around him; and despite the vaguely unsettled feeling of being alone in a crowd, he was content to spend the pre-game time immersed in sound, and shooting off the odd text to his cousin Jess.
Once the game started, however, Alex found it very difficult to look anywhere but the court.
He wasn’t a sports fan in the least; he could find nothing appealing in all the sweat and stress over doing something specific with a ball. It was pointless, ultimately meaningless. What did it matter if you could get a ball through a hoop more times than people from another school? Why did anyone care about smacking a ball back and forth over a net, or kicking one into a goal, or throwing and carrying one down a huge field? It all felt like a monumental waste of time and energy.
Watching Bianca play didn’t change his way of thinking. He still thought that it was a lot of work for nothing (so what if you were good at a sport--wouldn’t it be more practical and useful to be good at something else, like cooking or playing an instrument, something you could do on your own and that you’d still be able to do 20 years from now, something that didn’t require a team and a certain amount of youthful athleticism?), but he could almost, almost understand what some people might see in it. And while Alex didn’t know shit about volleyball, even he could tell that Bianca was beyond amazing.
He remembered her saying that she was the ‘libero,’ whatever that meant. He noticed right away that her uniform was a different color than everyone else’s (mostly silver instead of royal blue), and she seemed to go in and out of the game a lot, though she was always in the back row. Watching for a while longer, he noticed that she was never one of the ones who hit the ball back down over the net really hard (was that the infamous volleyball ‘spike’?) and that she spent a lot of time diving to save that kind of hard-hit ball when the other team sent one their way.
So while Alex wasn’t a sports fan, and would never really be a sports fan, as the game went on, he found himself more and more interested and invested in each rally, until he realized with a start that he was actually enjoying himself. That knowledge was unexpected, but once he’d accepted it--and he had no real choice other than to do so--he threw himself into watching the match wholeheartedly, cheering and groaning along with the rest of the crowd as points were scored or lost to the other team. And Bianca was everywhere, it seemed; diving sideways to save a well-hit spike, crouching down and holding out her arms and then somehow taking all the momentum off the ball when it was smashed over the net by their opponent’s strongest server, artfully sidestepping when the other team’s returns fell out-of-bounds.
One time she literally leaped halfway across the court to save a ball, coming up from it and returning to her feet with a fluid, easy roll, ready to dive the other way immediately if need be--which it was, and she saved that one, too, sending it back to her teammates with a practiced ease. About half the Carrington fans were jumping up and down and growling some kind of asinine ‘Care Bear Scare’ cheer after her second save, hundreds of feet pounding out a hollow thunder on the balcony, and they went absolutely crazy when their team scored a point off that rally. Alex himself was so caught up in the moment, in the riotous emotion and swelling enthusiasm of the crowd, that he couldn’t help cupping his hands around his mouth, leaning over the railing, and belting out, “HELL YEAH, JACKSON, NICE SAVE!”
He hadn’t taken high school drama classes for nothing; he knew how to project his voice, intentionally or not, and his outburst cut through the rest of the cheering like a hot knife through butter. Bianca jerked with a visible start and spun around, sea green eyes wide and searching as they scanned the spectator seating--then stopped when they landed on Alex. She gaped up at him, and he met her look of disbelief and mild incredulity with a cheeky half-smirk, flashing her a quick v-for-victory hand-sign. A huge grin blossomed on her face, and she turned back to the game with even more eagerness than before, her movements seeming even faster and more incredible from that point on. Alex could tell that she was showing off--showing off for him, some part of his mind pointed out--even though she didn’t look back up at him again even once.
The highlight of the game, at least in Alex’s opinion, was actually one of her show-off moves. The other team botched their receive, sending it back over to Carrington’s side of the net as a soft, easy free ball that came directly to Bianca unerringly, as if drawn by a magnet. Alex noticed her make some kind of weird signal with her hands, at which point her teammates pulled back, giving her plenty of room, and for a split second, Alex started to worry that she was going to let it hit the floor for some weird tactical volleyball reason he didn’t understand--and then she bicycle kicked it over the net. The other team was just as shocked as Alex, scrambling and failing to return the ball, at which point pandemonium descended on the court, with the opposing team’s coach lodging himself hotly in the personal space of the nearest referee. A time-out was called to let all the refs confer, and Alex watched in bemusement--why wouldn’t it be allowed, could she not use her feet? But if that was the case, why would she have done it at all?
“Oh, I think it was totally a fair play!” a student a couple seats down from Alex was saying loudly, and he listened in surreptitiously as the girl went on. “The ball wasn’t above the net when she kicked it, and she was behind the attack line. What’s left for them to discuss?”
“Yeah, the other team’s just mad that we took ‘em by surprise!” the first girl’s friend agreed with a snicker. “Plus, if that counts, we’re only one point away from set point!”
Alex had no idea what ‘set point’ was (though he gave in and did a quick search on his phone, and soon learned that volleyball had some complicated and strange rules), but it would seem that the referees agreed with the girls he’d overheard; Carrington was awarded a point and given the ball for another serve.
Bianca didn’t do the crazy bicycle kick stunt again, but Alex could tell that the other team was keeping an extra-close eye on her whenever the ball was near her, which was a lot. And they weren’t the only ones… Even when the action was nowhere near her, even when she was out on the sidelines, Alex found his gaze pulled back to her, like a flower seeking the sun. She was brilliant, a live wire that electrified everyone watching regardless of whether or not they cared about volleyball, that jolted her team into action and sent them charging forward despite tired arms and cramping legs.
She was incredible. There was no denying it. And even as Alex lost himself in the crowd’s energy and yelled until his voice was hoarse, he despaired a little at the tiny spark of heat that began to glow in his chest whenever he remembered how Bianca’s face had lit up on seeing him there in the stands.
Alex left right away as soon as the game was over. He didn’t want to deal with the crowds, and there was something almost intimidating about this version of Bianca, the sports star who was clearly the heart and soul of her team, flashing bright grins carefully designed to psych her teammates up and their opponents out. This version of Bianca was someone he didn’t know, a stranger, an unknown factor. Someone far above him, as beautiful and out-of-reach as the moon itself. This version of Bianca would have nothing to say to a short punk kid, and even if she did, it would only make him feel awkward, and underline all his feelings of inadequacy, all the reasons that he didn’t deserve to be her friend.
But he didn’t let himself fall into if onlys; he was too logical for that, knowing that it wouldn’t change anything, that wishing for the impossible or even the unlikely was nothing more than a waste of time. So instead he simply left, avoiding the situation entirely.
Or perhaps not entirely. Since he’d thought he might be out late, Alex had borrowed his dad’s car, and had parked in the most remote parking lot to avoid any post-game traffic; he was halfway across campus, heading to that remote lot, when he felt and heard his phone vibrate in his jacket pocket.
There were really only four people it could possibly be. It might be Bill Faulkner, concerned and disapproving of the (in his opinion) 'late' hour, but that was unlikely: Alex knew his father didn’t like texting and would only do it as a last resort. It might be his mother, but Gemma didn’t usually text after 9:00, unless she was abroad and had forgotten about time zone differences. It could very well be Jess--she’d gotten her first smartphone last week, and they’d already spent a fair amount of time sending messages back and forth tonight--and while his 15-year-old cousin should be asleep right now, she’d messaged him far later than this on school nights before.
But it was probably Bianca. He’d just left the game she’d all but asked him to attend, and she’d seen him there, and she probably didn’t have any hang-ups about texting people at later hours, especially since there was no way that he could be at home in bed already.
Sure enough, when he dug his phone out of his pocket, the name at the top of his messages list was Bianca's. And yet...he hesitated, his thumb hovering over her name for a good five seconds instead of instantly tapping it and looking at the text. He wasn’t sure where his sudden reluctance to have contact with her had come from--it was just a text, after all, mere pixels on a screen, it wasn’t like Bianca herself was standing there--but he couldn’t just change his feelings at a whim, which was yet another reason that he generally dismissed or did his utmost to ignore them.
As he watched, the number beside her name changed from a 1 to a 2, his phone let out another quiet notification buzz, and he quickly tapped her name to open the texts before he could change his mind or second-guess himself, and read the two messages waiting for him:
Hey! Saw you at the game! Thnx for coming! C:
So what did you think?? Wasn’t I AWESOME???
Alex gave his phone a small, lopsided smile, because it was the easiest thing in the world to imagine Bianca saying just that, then replied with:
> Yeah, you were pretty great. Best volleyball game I’ve ever seen.
After just a 10 second pause, he got a reply:
...You’ve never been to a volleyball game before, have you
> Got it in one, Alex shot back, and got as far as, See, this is why I li before he realized what he was saying, and how she might take it. Erasing the start of that offending and dangerous l-word, he changed his message to:
> See, this is why we get along, you really get me.
Again, only a few seconds passed before she wrote back:
Yeah, I get you, all right. Whether I want you or not ;P
Alex found that he had actually stopped walking as he read that message, shook his head at himself, and hurried on again at a near-jog. That was always the problem with communication via text: he couldn’t be certain of the other person’s tone. Was she joking? Flirting? A little of both? Or was she telling him indirectly to back off? The emoji made it seem more playful, and Bianca was forthright enough that if he was creeping her out somehow, she’d probably come right out and say it, but...it was still hard to be completely sure. And if she was flirting, it couldn’t be even the least bit serious, of that much he was certain. Sporty types like her tended to gravitate to their own kind, and Alex was the exact opposite of a muscular athlete.
Even so, if she was joking (and he was almost entirely certain that she was), then joking back was the way to go:
> Pretty sure you wanted me to be there, though I guess it’s true that *technically* you didn’t ask me to come...
There was about a minute’s pause, after which three messages came in quick succession:
NOPE, you did that 100% on your own! C:
YOU VOLUNTEERED AS TRIBUTE
So since you enjoyed it so much, are you coming to our next game this Saturday?
Alex, who had finally gotten across campus, unlocked the door to Bill’s battered Ford truck and climbed in before shooting off a response, initiating a quick back-and-forth text-war of sorts:
> Depends.
On what?
> If you ask me nicely this time.
Oh PLZ
> That is sufficient.
LOL NO I wasn’t asking!! X’D
> Too late, still counts.
omg nOO
> Still. Counts. See you Saturday.
Haha aiight o7
You owe me coffee if you don’t show tho
> Fair.
He waited a few minutes, but Bianca didn’t text back again after that, not that Alex expected her to, so he tucked his phone back into his pocket, then started up the truck and headed for home. It wasn’t even 11:00 p.m. yet, but he didn’t doubt that Bill was waiting up for him, and would have something disapproving to say about how late Alex was staying out on a school night.
Maybe I should tell him I was voluntarily watching a sporting event. That’d sure shut him up.
Alex chuckled at that idea as he switched on the radio and pulled out of the otherwise empty parking lot.
It was true enough that it just might be worth a try.
READ MORE
"And The Rest Is (World) History." Alex, Bianca. (Persona Dreamscape) - Chapter Five
[music]
“What was that all about? Last night at the racquetball courts, I mean,” Alex asked Bianca before class the next morning, and she sputtered into an abrupt peal of laughter loud enough that Dr. Pace, who had just stepped into the room, gave her an oblique look of faint reproach as he made his way to the lectern.
“This is totally super ridiculous, but okay, I’ll let you in on it. It’s called ‘The Jackson Challenge,’ ” she chuckled with a little more restraint, leaning back in her chair and grinning over at Alex with a fierce competitor’s glint in her eyes. “It’s a Tuesday night tradition at the gym. If someone can beat me in racquetball, best two out of three matches, then I have to go on a date with whoever challenged me.”
Alex blinked, which did nothing to break the disbelieving stare he’d fixed her with. “...And...people actually do this? You actually do this?” It was a stupid question with an obvious answer, but he couldn’t help it; he’d seen it in action with his own eyes, and yet he still couldn’t believe it. He could imagine few things worse than being forced to play nice and go on a date with someone he wasn’t even interested in...though going on a date with someone he was interested in sounded almost as harrowing.
Bianca gave an offhanded shrug, tipping her chair backwards onto its two rear feet. “Yep, we actually do. I even had to change the rules so that it’s exclusively Tuesdays, and people can only challenge me once a month, and then only if there isn’t anyone else who’s never taken the challenge before waiting for a turn. Otherwise all I’d do every time I hit the gym or get some free time is play racquetball, and while I do like it...that would get pretty old pretty fast.” Absently, she rocked back until the chair made contact with the desk behind her. “I get plenty of challenges--mostly dudes, though there are always a few ladies…” She trailed off, and Alex shot her a wary look as a wicked grin slowly spread across her face, though she was looking straight in front of her and simultaneously back into her memories. “...But I’ve never actually had to go on a date with any of them. I’ve never lost.”
After what he’d seen of her play-style last night, Alex didn’t have any trouble believing that, and he promptly told her as much, which just made her grin all the wider. “Y’know, Alex, you seem preeeeetty hung up on this…” Turning the full focus of her attention on him, she let her chair rock back down onto all four feet, the front two hitting the floor with a tooth-jarring clack. “Planning on taking that challenge yourself sometime?”
Her smile was teasing and provocative in maybe more than just one way, but there was something else to it, something Alex couldn’t figure out how to read; so he busied himself with his notes, looking down and away and this time not blushing even slightly. Better not to give her the satisfaction.
“Hah,” he said, managing to curve his mouth in what he hoped was a passable approximation of a cynical, amused smile. “Yeah, right. Even supposing I wanted to take the challenge, I already know that you’d blast me into next week, so why should I put myself through that kind of pain and public humiliation?”
For the barest moment, Bianca was giving him that analyzing, narrow-eyed stare again, and Alex felt a jolt of panic, wondering if he’d insulted her somehow without meaning to, if he’d taken the banter too far; but in an instant that scrutinizing almost-glare had vanished, replaced by a smile so bright that he wondered if he’d really seen the other look on her face at all, or if it had just been his imagination.
At that moment, Dr. Pace addressed the class with his usual greetings, giving everyone a chance to return to their seats and quiet down as he climbed the stairs and handed the attendance sheet off to the student on the uppermost right side of the room.
Bianca took advantage of that short pause to lean in, a playful light gleaming in her eyes. “You never know,” she half-whispered, and as was far too often the case, Alex found that he couldn’t resist looking over at her as she spoke. “I might go easy on you...just for curiosity’s sake.”
She was looking him straight in the eyes, so he couldn’t look down or away without being completely obvious about it; but really, he was so startled that he didn’t have a chance to think about his reaction at all. All he could do was give her a reflexive wide-eyed blink, his lips parting in a silent, quick intake of air. What’s that supposed to mean, he wanted to ask--and it was a genuine question, because while words themselves were generally simple to understand, what people really meant by them could vary wildly. Bianca herself had been pretty straightforward up to this point, aside from a bit of clearly non-serious flirting, but...well, it was best to ask and be sure, to leave no room for doubt-
But before he could say those five words, Dr. Pace was already addressing the class, launching into today’s lecture about the Heian Period of Japan, and Alex knew better than to try to talk over, or under, the sharp-eyed World History professor.
By the time the class was over an hour later, he’d had time to process the whole conversation, and he’d decided that she was just kidding. Honestly, no other interpretation really made any sort of sense, which meant he shouldn’t dwell on it. It didn’t really mean anything, Bianca was just being Bianca: playful, teasing, extroverted, and unreserved.
He was even more certain of his analysis after class when, the instant Dr. Pace had dismissed them, she turned to Alex and said without preamble, “So, we have a game tonight.” She sounded for all the world as if they were currently in the middle of a long conversation, as if she was simply picking up right where they’d left off an hour ago, or at least very nearly so.
Alex didn’t pause or look up from packing away his things--he had Journalism next, and it was a bit of a haul to get across campus in time--and simply gave an acknowledging, noncommittal hum.
Bianca seemed to be waiting for something more from him, but when he didn’t offer anything else, she pressed on with, “Are you coming?”
Alex looked up at her as he slung his bag across his chest, pierced eyebrow raised. “Coming where?”
Bianca let out an exasperated huff as she stood and settled her own backpack on her shoulders. “To the game, of course!”
Alex went still for a moment, looking down as he fidgeted with one of the numerous safety pins lodged in the strap of this messenger bag, considering what he wanted to say, weighing the words before looking up at her again and speaking them with careful deliberation. “...Are you asking if I’m going, or are you asking me to go?”
Catching Bianca off-guard with the things he said was always interesting, and generally caught him by surprise as well, since he didn’t manage to do it terribly often. She tended to roll with whatever he threw out, no matter how prickly or sarcastic it was, but it did happen on occasion: now, apparently, was one of those times. He’d expected her to laugh at how precise and exacting he was being with that question, to lightly say something amusing and mildly absurd, like I’m asking you to go, silly, I want you there to cheer me on! and maybe add something like my roommate’s got a real cute cheerleading uniform you could borrow, too, if you want if she was really feeling like giving him trouble over it. Instead...instead she blinked at him in surprise, green eyes going wide, then cutting away quickly, the smile that she forced to her face as they left the classroom behind clearly fake. “I’m--asking if you’re going.”
Alex wasn’t sure how to read that, why his question would’ve given her such a strange turn, but he wrote it off as Bianca not wanting to give him the wrong idea about things. So as they made their way down the sidewalk, he gave another hum, this one only vaguely thoughtful, more indifferent and dismissive than anything. “Probably not.”
“Why not? It’s important--it’s our first official game!”
Because I don’t care about sports? Because I know nothing about volleyball? Because I have homework? Because I haven’t touched my keyboard yet this week? Because my dad still treats me like I’m 12 and gives me all sorts of shit if I’m out later than 8:00? They were all valid excuses, and they were all true, but they still weren’t the real reason Alex didn’t want to go. Because I already think you’re amazing, the most incredible person I’ve ever met, and how much I already like you scares me more than a little. That was closer to the mark, and what he believed to be The Real Truth; but the actual bulls-eye was something that Alex himself would’ve denied adamantly, something he knew only subconsciously at this point:
Because I don’t want to run the risk of falling in love with you.
“I’ve got work,” he said instead of giving one of the myriad of real reasons, though when Bianca’s face fell, he relented enough to add, “Well, I’m supposed to be on the schedule tonight, at least...but my boss might’ve forgotten to update it.”
Alex had gotten that job at the music equipment rental shop, and he’d been in to sign the paperwork that weekend. His new boss, Duncan, was very chill but also something of a stoner, the kind of guy who said ‘dude’ or ‘man’ in every sentence, forgetful and flighty and kept at all on-track only by Keiji, his longtime friend and even longer-time-suffering assistant, who didn’t always correct his mistakes out of sheer low-key passive-aggressive spite. Alex already knew that his Wednesday hours hadn’t been added to the schedule and that Keiji hadn’t fixed it, which would leave Duncan to cover the evening shift alone. And serves him right, Alex could hear Keiji saying in his deadpan undertone. Sorry about the missing work hours, Alex. I’ll get you a DJ gig this weekend to make it up to you, if you want. Alex very much did want--it had been far too long since he’d gotten to do anything but play around on his turntables and synthesizer--and Keiji had followed through, somehow getting him the opportunity to DJ at a very cool up-and-coming local club. They shouldn’t ask, but just don’t tell them you’re not 21, and we won’t have any problems, Keiji had added, and Alex had resolved to do his best to make himself look as mature as possible that night. Basically, as far as Alex was concerned, Duncan was okay, but Keiji was Good People, and Alex liked him.
In any case, he probably didn’t actually have to go in to work tonight...but Bianca didn’t have to know that.
Bianca let out another little huff, and Alex relaxed: this one sounded much more like her usual intentionally silly behavior. “If it’s work, I guess you can’t really get out of it, especially since you probably only just started there…” The sidewalk they were walking down branched off in two different directions, one heading towards the building with Alex’s Journalism class in it, the other leading towards Bianca’s Fluid Mechanics I class; Bianca paused long enough at the split to flash Alex a confident grin. “...But if you’re not on the schedule, promise me that you’ll come! Okay?”
Her smile was, as always, contagious, and Alex found one corner of his mouth curling upwards just slightly. “I’ll think about it,” he said in a tone that made it plain that what he was really saying was no promises, then he continued on down the sidewalk, trying to hurry without looking like he was hurrying, and never once looking back.
Just as he’d said he would, Alex did think about it.
A lot.
Possibly too much, really, but that was typical: he tended to have a habit of getting stuck in his own head and overthinking things anyway, so this wasn’t exactly unfamiliar territory.
He didn’t want to go. He had no interest in sports, and he didn’t owe Bianca anything, and if she didn’t want him there enough to ask him to come, then why should he bother? That should’ve been the end of it. Normally it would have been. Nothing seemed to be quite normal when Bianca was involved though, all his thoughts just slightly uneven or left-of-center, which was frustrating and intriguing in turns, but mostly frustrating. Even worse was the way that his feelings, generally easy to ignore or put aside as necessary, were somehow magnified, given an inordinate amount of weight and a level of importance that they certainly didn’t merit, enough so that it made him want to dig in his heels and force himself not to care, not to go.
But.
But, he couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that he’d basically lied to her. He knew he didn’t have to work tonight, and yet instead of giving one of the other valid excuses, somehow...
You don’t owe her the truth. Not when she was trying to pressure you into going somewhere you clearly had no interest in going. While that thought wasn’t wrong, Alex didn’t like it. If you weren’t honest, if you didn’t want to be honest with someone, then you didn’t really want to be their friend, at least that was his way of thinking. He had no time for people who were fake or insincere, and he loathed the idea of being one of them; there were more than enough people like that out there in the world already without him adding himself to their ranks. So, no, he didn’t owe her the truth. But...he wanted to give it to her regardless of that, or at least make up for all but lying to her face.
And the only way to do that, really, was...to go to her game. Alex gritted his teeth at the idea--he’d done everything he could to avoid going to games back in high school, but they’d used the gym’s sound system, and as a part of lights & sound crew for the drama club, he’d oftentimes been tapped to get the system up and running, and sometimes even had to play MC when no one else wanted the job. Every time that had happened, he’d spent the entire game bored out of his skull, regardless of what sport it was, wishing for it to be over as quickly as possible and only paying enough attention to introduce players as they subbed in for the first time, or whatever else needed to be announced.
He didn’t think he would be any more interested now, even if Bianca was playing. But then, this isn’t about you, is it. This is an apology--you’re not supposed to enjoy it. Alex didn’t like that thought either, but it also wasn’t wrong.
In fact, it was entirely right.
Alex Faulkner didn’t slink into the gym fifteen minutes late. He was on time, a little early actually, and instead of his usual in-your-face punk rock style, he was dressed almost plainly in black skinny jeans, stylish men’s boots, a charcoal-grey t-shirt, and a black knitted sweater-jacket with a hood that he kept pulled up, though not high enough to conceal his face. He’d gone easy on the jewelry also, one silver stud in the upper cartilage of one of his ears and a single lip ring the only hardware on display tonight.
He wasn’t certain where to sit, but he figured that the side with all the people dressed in Carrington’s royal blue and silver-grey was the right one, so he knew that much, at least. In the end he settled for a place in the first row along the balcony rail, where no one could sit in front of him and block his view. It was a good thing he’d gotten there early, he soon realized, because before long the stands were packed; despite his lack of friendly smile and his complete unwillingness to engage in any sort of small-talk, the seats on either side of him were claimed quickly, and he sighed to himself as the lady to his left unintentionally jabbed him in the ribs with her oversized purse.
For the time being he’d left his headphones on, taking refuge in his music, using it to drown out the irritating sounds of the (far too many) people around him; and despite the vaguely unsettled feeling of being alone in a crowd, he was content to spend the pre-game time immersed in sound, and shooting off the odd text to his cousin Jess.
Once the game started, however, Alex found it very difficult to look anywhere but the court.
He wasn’t a sports fan in the least; he could find nothing appealing in all the sweat and stress over doing something specific with a ball. It was pointless, ultimately meaningless. What did it matter if you could get a ball through a hoop more times than people from another school? Why did anyone care about smacking a ball back and forth over a net, or kicking one into a goal, or throwing and carrying one down a huge field? It all felt like a monumental waste of time and energy.
Watching Bianca play didn’t change his way of thinking. He still thought that it was a lot of work for nothing (so what if you were good at a sport--wouldn’t it be more practical and useful to be good at something else, like cooking or playing an instrument, something you could do on your own and that you’d still be able to do 20 years from now, something that didn’t require a team and a certain amount of youthful athleticism?), but he could almost, almost understand what some people might see in it. And while Alex didn’t know shit about volleyball, even he could tell that Bianca was beyond amazing.
He remembered her saying that she was the ‘libero,’ whatever that meant. He noticed right away that her uniform was a different color than everyone else’s (mostly silver instead of royal blue), and she seemed to go in and out of the game a lot, though she was always in the back row. Watching for a while longer, he noticed that she was never one of the ones who hit the ball back down over the net really hard (was that the infamous volleyball ‘spike’?) and that she spent a lot of time diving to save that kind of hard-hit ball when the other team sent one their way.
So while Alex wasn’t a sports fan, and would never really be a sports fan, as the game went on, he found himself more and more interested and invested in each rally, until he realized with a start that he was actually enjoying himself. That knowledge was unexpected, but once he’d accepted it--and he had no real choice other than to do so--he threw himself into watching the match wholeheartedly, cheering and groaning along with the rest of the crowd as points were scored or lost to the other team. And Bianca was everywhere, it seemed; diving sideways to save a well-hit spike, crouching down and holding out her arms and then somehow taking all the momentum off the ball when it was smashed over the net by their opponent’s strongest server, artfully sidestepping when the other team’s returns fell out-of-bounds.
One time she literally leaped halfway across the court to save a ball, coming up from it and returning to her feet with a fluid, easy roll, ready to dive the other way immediately if need be--which it was, and she saved that one, too, sending it back to her teammates with a practiced ease. About half the Carrington fans were jumping up and down and growling some kind of asinine ‘Care Bear Scare’ cheer after her second save, hundreds of feet pounding out a hollow thunder on the balcony, and they went absolutely crazy when their team scored a point off that rally. Alex himself was so caught up in the moment, in the riotous emotion and swelling enthusiasm of the crowd, that he couldn’t help cupping his hands around his mouth, leaning over the railing, and belting out, “HELL YEAH, JACKSON, NICE SAVE!”
He hadn’t taken high school drama classes for nothing; he knew how to project his voice, intentionally or not, and his outburst cut through the rest of the cheering like a hot knife through butter. Bianca jerked with a visible start and spun around, sea green eyes wide and searching as they scanned the spectator seating--then stopped when they landed on Alex. She gaped up at him, and he met her look of disbelief and mild incredulity with a cheeky half-smirk, flashing her a quick v-for-victory hand-sign. A huge grin blossomed on her face, and she turned back to the game with even more eagerness than before, her movements seeming even faster and more incredible from that point on. Alex could tell that she was showing off--showing off for him, some part of his mind pointed out--even though she didn’t look back up at him again even once.
The highlight of the game, at least in Alex’s opinion, was actually one of her show-off moves. The other team botched their receive, sending it back over to Carrington’s side of the net as a soft, easy free ball that came directly to Bianca unerringly, as if drawn by a magnet. Alex noticed her make some kind of weird signal with her hands, at which point her teammates pulled back, giving her plenty of room, and for a split second, Alex started to worry that she was going to let it hit the floor for some weird tactical volleyball reason he didn’t understand--and then she bicycle kicked it over the net. The other team was just as shocked as Alex, scrambling and failing to return the ball, at which point pandemonium descended on the court, with the opposing team’s coach lodging himself hotly in the personal space of the nearest referee. A time-out was called to let all the refs confer, and Alex watched in bemusement--why wouldn’t it be allowed, could she not use her feet? But if that was the case, why would she have done it at all?
“Oh, I think it was totally a fair play!” a student a couple seats down from Alex was saying loudly, and he listened in surreptitiously as the girl went on. “The ball wasn’t above the net when she kicked it, and she was behind the attack line. What’s left for them to discuss?”
“Yeah, the other team’s just mad that we took ‘em by surprise!” the first girl’s friend agreed with a snicker. “Plus, if that counts, we’re only one point away from set point!”
Alex had no idea what ‘set point’ was (though he gave in and did a quick search on his phone, and soon learned that volleyball had some complicated and strange rules), but it would seem that the referees agreed with the girls he’d overheard; Carrington was awarded a point and given the ball for another serve.
Bianca didn’t do the crazy bicycle kick stunt again, but Alex could tell that the other team was keeping an extra-close eye on her whenever the ball was near her, which was a lot. And they weren’t the only ones… Even when the action was nowhere near her, even when she was out on the sidelines, Alex found his gaze pulled back to her, like a flower seeking the sun. She was brilliant, a live wire that electrified everyone watching regardless of whether or not they cared about volleyball, that jolted her team into action and sent them charging forward despite tired arms and cramping legs.
She was incredible. There was no denying it. And even as Alex lost himself in the crowd’s energy and yelled until his voice was hoarse, he despaired a little at the tiny spark of heat that began to glow in his chest whenever he remembered how Bianca’s face had lit up on seeing him there in the stands.
Alex left right away as soon as the game was over. He didn’t want to deal with the crowds, and there was something almost intimidating about this version of Bianca, the sports star who was clearly the heart and soul of her team, flashing bright grins carefully designed to psych her teammates up and their opponents out. This version of Bianca was someone he didn’t know, a stranger, an unknown factor. Someone far above him, as beautiful and out-of-reach as the moon itself. This version of Bianca would have nothing to say to a short punk kid, and even if she did, it would only make him feel awkward, and underline all his feelings of inadequacy, all the reasons that he didn’t deserve to be her friend.
But he didn’t let himself fall into if onlys; he was too logical for that, knowing that it wouldn’t change anything, that wishing for the impossible or even the unlikely was nothing more than a waste of time. So instead he simply left, avoiding the situation entirely.
Or perhaps not entirely. Since he’d thought he might be out late, Alex had borrowed his dad’s car, and had parked in the most remote parking lot to avoid any post-game traffic; he was halfway across campus, heading to that remote lot, when he felt and heard his phone vibrate in his jacket pocket.
There were really only four people it could possibly be. It might be Bill Faulkner, concerned and disapproving of the (in his opinion) 'late' hour, but that was unlikely: Alex knew his father didn’t like texting and would only do it as a last resort. It might be his mother, but Gemma didn’t usually text after 9:00, unless she was abroad and had forgotten about time zone differences. It could very well be Jess--she’d gotten her first smartphone last week, and they’d already spent a fair amount of time sending messages back and forth tonight--and while his 15-year-old cousin should be asleep right now, she’d messaged him far later than this on school nights before.
But it was probably Bianca. He’d just left the game she’d all but asked him to attend, and she’d seen him there, and she probably didn’t have any hang-ups about texting people at later hours, especially since there was no way that he could be at home in bed already.
Sure enough, when he dug his phone out of his pocket, the name at the top of his messages list was Bianca's. And yet...he hesitated, his thumb hovering over her name for a good five seconds instead of instantly tapping it and looking at the text. He wasn’t sure where his sudden reluctance to have contact with her had come from--it was just a text, after all, mere pixels on a screen, it wasn’t like Bianca herself was standing there--but he couldn’t just change his feelings at a whim, which was yet another reason that he generally dismissed or did his utmost to ignore them.
As he watched, the number beside her name changed from a 1 to a 2, his phone let out another quiet notification buzz, and he quickly tapped her name to open the texts before he could change his mind or second-guess himself, and read the two messages waiting for him:
Hey! Saw you at the game! Thnx for coming! C:
So what did you think?? Wasn’t I AWESOME???
Alex gave his phone a small, lopsided smile, because it was the easiest thing in the world to imagine Bianca saying just that, then replied with:
> Yeah, you were pretty great. Best volleyball game I’ve ever seen.
After just a 10 second pause, he got a reply:
...You’ve never been to a volleyball game before, have you
> Got it in one, Alex shot back, and got as far as, See, this is why I li before he realized what he was saying, and how she might take it. Erasing the start of that offending and dangerous l-word, he changed his message to:
> See, this is why we get along, you really get me.
Again, only a few seconds passed before she wrote back:
Yeah, I get you, all right. Whether I want you or not ;P
Alex found that he had actually stopped walking as he read that message, shook his head at himself, and hurried on again at a near-jog. That was always the problem with communication via text: he couldn’t be certain of the other person’s tone. Was she joking? Flirting? A little of both? Or was she telling him indirectly to back off? The emoji made it seem more playful, and Bianca was forthright enough that if he was creeping her out somehow, she’d probably come right out and say it, but...it was still hard to be completely sure. And if she was flirting, it couldn’t be even the least bit serious, of that much he was certain. Sporty types like her tended to gravitate to their own kind, and Alex was the exact opposite of a muscular athlete.
Even so, if she was joking (and he was almost entirely certain that she was), then joking back was the way to go:
> Pretty sure you wanted me to be there, though I guess it’s true that *technically* you didn’t ask me to come...
There was about a minute’s pause, after which three messages came in quick succession:
NOPE, you did that 100% on your own! C:
YOU VOLUNTEERED AS TRIBUTE
So since you enjoyed it so much, are you coming to our next game this Saturday?
Alex, who had finally gotten across campus, unlocked the door to Bill’s battered Ford truck and climbed in before shooting off a response, initiating a quick back-and-forth text-war of sorts:
> Depends.
On what?
> If you ask me nicely this time.
Oh PLZ
> That is sufficient.
LOL NO I wasn’t asking!! X’D
> Too late, still counts.
omg nOO
> Still. Counts. See you Saturday.
Haha aiight o7
You owe me coffee if you don’t show tho
> Fair.
He waited a few minutes, but Bianca didn’t text back again after that, not that Alex expected her to, so he tucked his phone back into his pocket, then started up the truck and headed for home. It wasn’t even 11:00 p.m. yet, but he didn’t doubt that Bill was waiting up for him, and would have something disapproving to say about how late Alex was staying out on a school night.
Maybe I should tell him I was voluntarily watching a sporting event. That’d sure shut him up.
Alex chuckled at that idea as he switched on the radio and pulled out of the otherwise empty parking lot.
It was true enough that it just might be worth a try.
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