NOTES:: Hey, this is just a quickly written, short little thing I wrote. Honestly, the first thing I ever finished. It's not an original concept or anything groundbreaking, but there isn't enough Yamcha love, you know? Just let the boy be happy!
The smell of sweat and tobacco that seems to be ingrained in the locker room always seems to attack Yamcha's sense of smell every single time he enters. You'd think I'd be used to that by now. The sound of laughter and banter mixes with the sound of moist uniforms hitting the tile, and someone claps a hand on his shoulder, "Good game, man."
"Yeah, thanks, you too." He replies, not even really acknowledging which teammate it was. He falls into the familiar routine of stripping, showering and changing into fresh clothing on basically autopilot. Thinking back to the good days...Martial arts tournaments...training all hours of the day; pushing his body to the edge... Hell, even when we were fighting for our lives, it was still sorta fun...It was me...and my friends...saving the world. He buttons his way up his chest as he sits on one of the benches across from a group of his teammates. His sorta-friends. Can I really just play baseball? He slides one shoe on, and then the other. Not like I have a choice. Fighting doesn't really pay the bills, and even so...the others are so far ahead of me... And they have wives...families...real lives.
He is interrupted from his thoughts by an outfielder, "Hey Yamcha. I don't know why I'm bothering to ask, but you are welcome to come have a drink with us."
Yamcha looks up at them; the group of four smiling faces, doubtfully awaiting his response. They always offer. Because they are good guys. But he always says no, because what would he even do? But then again... His mind flashes to his planned night which consists of having beer and leftover pizza on his worn out couch as he watches sitcom reruns with Puar. I guess I could at least try. Maybe it will help with this rut. "You know what? Yeah I am in...where are we headed?"
The shocked grins on their faces are priceless, but they recover pretty quickly. "There's a little bar a couple blocks away from here. Drinks are cheap, and there is a little dancefloor that always at least a couple girls on it." Yamcha smirks as he stands and follows them out. They may have said drinking...but what they really wanna do is troll for women to take home. Not that I blame them, a couple years ago, I woulda been doing the same exact thing. He follows behind them as they walk down the street, chiming into their conversation about the last game. He was older than them. He was over fifty now...He was the oldest guy in the league. I mean, he was still in excellent shape, and he looked younger than he was...But I'm getting way too old to be a playboy.
He looks up at the sign as they enter the plain looking building. "Pete's Bar & Club" is written in bright, neon red lighting, and stepping through the door, he got this feeling. Like a tiny flare up of Someone's power level, but just for a second as he stepped through the door, and then it was gone. Did someone sense me coming and get worried? He glanced around the bar, taking note of several patrons drinking and eating bar food at tables, the group of girls dancing in the the back corner, and his friends' backs as they headed straight for them, and the three people sitting at the bar. Nobody seemed to stand out. Nobody seemed dangerous. Maybe I am just losing it.
He moved to sit at a highstool at the bar, sitting with his back to the bartop and looking over at his friends flirting up a storm with some girls on the dance floor. He chuckles before sighing and shaking his head. Why did I do this?
At that moment, he senses a presence to his right, and a woman's voice in his ear just after, "Regretting your decision?" He smirks, hearing the smile in her voice. Then he chuckles to himself,
"Which one?" He jokes.
To his surprise he hears a light chuckle, "I was referring to the decision to come out with your friends. I see them here a lot, but you are new...But I mean, if you wanna tell me about all your regrets, feel free. I am a bartender after all... It's kinda the job." He spins in his stool to look at her, and for a moment, he was a teenager again, looking at a pretty girl and losing all capability of coherent thought, much less speech. She was absolutely gorgeous. Dark brown eyes, defined but delicate features, and thick black hair pulled back into a high ponytail, a few bunches of it still framing her face. This girl should be a model, not a bartender. She arches an eyebrow and gives him a lopsided grin, "Want me to get you a drink while you tell me your tale of woe?"
He swallows hard, trying to remember how to use words, "Yeah, a beer would be great."
"What kind?"
"Whatever you recommend." He watches her as she moves behind the bar. As she reaches up to grab a glass, he looks over her figure. Definitely should have been a model. She has a simple black teeshirt. Tight black pants, and a red sash wrapped around her waist and hanging on her hips. The little strings on its edges swishing as she moves. Like those jingly things the belly dancers wear...Never actually seen someone just wear one.
She returns with a glass and places it on a coaster in front of him, "I'll start you a tab...?" She drags out the last word,
"Yamcha." He responds, taking a sip of the beer and trying not to get too much of the head on his lip and look like a total dumbass. It is really good.
"Good to meet you Yamcha. My name is Rhuebel. Most people just call me Rhuby." She glances at the other patrons at the bar to make sure she isn't needed before leaning onto the bartop, her arms inadvertently pressing her breasts forward. They are on the smaller side, but still nice. Yamcha tries not to look. He succeeds. Mostly. He may have glanced. "So, what's on your mind, Yamcha. You look like you could use someone to listen."
He shrugs, "Nothing to say really...just life, you know?"
She animatedly drops her jaw, "Oh come on. I have several more hours 'til close, we don't get too many new faces, and I have already heard all the interesting stories from the regulars. I am not just playing the role of bartender who listens to problems. I am genuinely curious."
He smiles, taking a large drink of his beer. Oh, what the hell. Why not? "Alright. I have had the same group of friends since I was a teenager. Except they all grew up and got married and had kids. And I'm...I don't know...I guess I am a bit jealous."
She stares at him quizzically for a moment, "Why didn't you do it?"
He holds his head up in his left hand with his elbow on the bartop. His right holding onto the cold glass. May as well get it all out, right? "Well, I had this girl. Bulma. We met as teenagers, and we were together for the better part of a decade. We had issues. We fought a lot... We would take a break, I would get my fill of being a playboy with other women, and then she would take me back." He takes a drink and sighs, "I wasn't a great boyfriend. I wanted to sleep around sometimes, and I always counted on the fact that she would be there when I was done. It shouldn't have surprised me when I came back one day and she had feelings for someone else."
"So she moved on, and you kept whoring?"
He snorts a laugh, "Yeah. Pretty much. She's still one of my best friends. Married. Two kids. I had a couple of short relationships after that, but nothing was serious. Nothing felt right. So I kept trying. Girl after girl. I liked the attention." He downs the rest of his beer. "Stopped a few years back when I realized it wasn't what I really wanted. Except, now, I am over fifty and it's too late."
She smirks, taking his empty glass, turning to give him a refill while talking, "Because all the girls worth marrying know that you aren't single at fifty with that face and that body without a good reason?"
Yamcha was glad her back was to him as she refilled from the tap, otherwise she would have seen a rather embarrassing blush at hearing someone like her say something like that about him. It's been a while. "Yeah. Interest in me now runs out after one night... And I mean, I don't wanna marry a girl just to do it. I wanna marry someone I love...and I feel like I missed that chance."
She returns with another beer and places it in front of him with a soft smile, "I feel for ya, man. I do. But you gotta admit that it's a prison of your own design. Good wholesome women don't wanna date someone that they know will probably cheat on them. Maybe you should look for another reforming whore... or maybe single moms?"
Despite her truthful, but hurtful, words, Yamcha finds himself laughing, "Yeah, cause I am such a great role model for small children. I'm a martial artist who plays baseball cause it's the only thing I am good at that makes money."
She laughs with him, "Yeah, most moms here aren't really fond of fighting. I don't get it. I have been fighting since I was born." She tilts her head at him thoughtfully, "Just be glad you have baseball and don't have to bartend to pay the bills so you can train another day."
He leans forward, grinning, "You are a martial artist?"
"Oh don't tell me you are one of the 'girls can't fight' crowd, I was just starting to like you!"
He puts his hands up, "No, no, I was just surprised! Don't find too many others out in the world, and even rarer to find a strong woman."
"Yeah. Nobody cares about strength here. Especially in the city. Half the time, I don't even know how to talk to people. It's hard to explain to normal people that sometimes you actually enjoy getting hit in the face." She speaks while washing out some glasses.
"I know, right!" He giggles, "And how satisfying it is to feel someone's flesh bend around your fist!"
"Even better when you can feel the bones crunch." She smiles.
He sighs, "Oh man, I miss it so much. Baseball is great and all, but it's just not..."
"Yeah I know." She replies over her shoulder, pouring a shot of whiskey for a silent patron further down the bar, "I miss it too. I train. I have fun...but nothing can replace-"
"-A good fight" They speak together and then laugh together.
Yamcha downs the rest of his beer and slides her the empty glass, "Hell, at this point, I'd settle for a decent sparring partner."
She takes the glass and turns back around to the tap, "Same. I haven't had fun punching another living person since I moved here a few years back."
Maybe it's the beers, or maybe it's the fact that he hasn't been this excited about a conversation with someone outside the Earth's defenders in maybe forever, but he speaks before he fully thinks it through, "You wanna fight me?"
She looks at him with an amused smirk and a cocked brow as she hands him another beer, "That a challenge, Yamcha?"
Suddenly bursting with a cocky confidence he thought he left behind years ago, "So what if I am?" he flirts.
For a moment she narrows her eyes and grits her teeth slightly, "If you are proposing a relationship beyond bartender and customer, there are some things I have to say." Yamcha's breathe catches in his throat. Fuck, I pushed a limit. Dammit! We were getting along so well! "First, I don't date. Anyone. Ever. Not anything personal, I just don't...need that. Second, I make a terrible friend. I suck at emotions and I never like to go anywhere or do anything. I am either working or boring." He stares at her, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. Was I really just imagining that we had some sort of connection? I thought we could at least be friends!
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" He starts, but she puts up a finger, stopping him in his place.
"I wasn't done..." She smiles softly, "So, as long as you aren't trying to get in my pants, and you are okay with a hermit for a friend, then I accept your challenge."
He lets out a breathy chuckle, "Really? Great!" He nervously runs his hand through his hair, "I mean, I don't have a lot of friends, and I am pretty boring too. This is the first time I have been out in ages."
He watches her eyes glance over to his friends who are currently buying themselves and several girls drinks from the other bartender at the end of the bar. As his eyes meet theirs, they gently wave to him. "They are your teammates, right? Baseball?"
"Yeah. They are pretty nice guys. Even though I never say yes, they always invite me out with them anyways."
"But baseball is all you have in common with them?"
"Yeah. Basically. But I do really like baseball." He ruffles his hair again, letting the long strands spread out along his back as they continue to dry, "Even if it isn't as much fun now that it is my job and not just a hobby."
"I've seen parts of a few games on TV, but never really paid much attention. Maybe I just don't get it."
He's momentarily stunned, "So, you've never been to a baseball game?"
She laughs at the look on his face, "What, is it some vital rite of passage that I should have?"
"Yes!" He exclaims, "Everyone has to go to a baseball game at some point." He snaps his fingers, "There is an early game tomorrow, should be over well before the bar opens. I can get you a ticket if you want."
She waves her hands around, "Why would I want to go sit in the stands alone, watching a guy I just met, play a game I don't even understand?"
"No, no, that's not what I meant." He laughs, "I'm not playing. It's two other teams. I'd go with you just like any other fan, and make sure you get the full experience. My treat."
She shakes her head, but keeps the smile on her face, "I just agreed to be your friend as long as you know that I am not the type of person who goes places and does things, but what is the first thing you do? You ask me to go somewhere and do something."
"It'll be fun! I promise! And if you don't have fun, I will let you land a few extra hits on me when we get around to our fight."
"You'll let me get a few hits on you?" She scoffs, "Awful confident, aren't we?"
"I'm not doubting you. I just know that I am good."
"Alright then, tough guy. I'll go to the game with you, but we fight tonight. I gotta make sure you are even worth the time I am investing in this potential friendship with sparring."
"You're on!" Yamcha yells, a little louder than he intended, but she seems to be encouraged, "Just say where and what time, and I'll be there."
She smirks, before walking to the other end of the bar to talk to the other bartender. A larger man with a lumberjack beard and a biker bandana on his head, "Hey Pete, is it cool if I leave a few hours early? This guy over here challenged me to a fight and I gotta go kick his ass."
"Rhuby, you ask for one night off a month, of course you can leave a few hours early. Go have fun." The large man smiles down at her and she hugs him from behind. She turns back to Yamcha,
"Pay your tab with Pete while I go get my shit from the back." She says as she hops over the side of the bar in a swift, graceful leap and disappears through a door. Yamcha chugs the rest of his beer before a daunting feeling falls over him. Right now. This is happening right now. What if I am not sober enough to hold back enough? He stands up and the world only sways a little bit. I just have to be really careful not to hurt her. I can't sense any power from her, but she seems so sure of herself... He walks over to Pete and pays his tab, adding a generous tip for Rhuby.
As he walks over to his friends they look from him to the empty spot behind the bar where Rhuby was standing. Barry, the second baseman looks at him incredulously, "Wait, did you actually get Rhuby to agree to leave with you?"
Yamcha runs his hand through his hair anxiously, "Yes? But not in the way you think. We both like martial arts, we are gonna go spar a bit."
He laughs and claps him on the shoulder, "Be careful man, she is tougher than she looks. Remember Dan from the Sounds?" Yamcha nods, "She was the reason his cheek was broken and his jaw was wired shut for eight months."
"Really?" Yamcha asks, "What happened?"
"He came in almost every day asking her out. Apparently one day she said something along the lines of 'If you really wanna date me, you have to pass a test first.' So of course, he said to give him the test, and then she punched the shit out of him. Said something about how she wouldn't be caught dead with someone who couldn't even take a punch." Barry shrugs, "I think everyone knows by now not to try anything with her. She says she doesn't date, and we have been coming here for like, a year now, and she is always here, so it's gotta be true."
"Yeah, she mentioned the not dating thing to me. I respect that. She is just fun to talk to, you know?"
"Yeah, yeah," He shrugs, "Just don't let her hurt you too bad, we have that big game against the Jays in three days, and we need you."
Yamcha smirks as he sees Rhuby coming out of the back room with a satchel over her shoulder. Barry gives a nod and a wave and slinks back into the cluster of dancers. Rhuby comes up to stand by Yamcha, "You ready to get your ass handed to you?"
He smiles smugly as they walk out the door, "Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"
The sound of her laughter almost echoes with their footsteps as they walk side by side down the street. "My, my. You are confident, I'll give you that."
"So where are we heading?" He asks, looking down at her. She is shorter than him, but taller than Bulma. She is probably about Vegeta's height actually. Minus the hair.
"There is a park a couple blocks this way, pretty close to my place. Pretty spacious. Will be empty since it is so late."
"Do you go there often?"
"Nope, just pass by it on my walk to work." She walks beside him, and her hair sways as she walks, tickling the back of his arm on every other step they take. He can faintly smell vanilla in her hair, and also a bit of alcohol.
"You work everyday?"
"Yeah. I'll take a day every once in a while, but working gives me something to do...and food is expensive." He glances over with a disbelieving grin, Nobody could spend that much on food...Well, except maybe Goku...
She looks up at him and shrugs, "I may not look it, but I eat...like, a lot. Usually freaks people out. One of a million reasons I don't date."
He shakes his head, "Wait, they are actually rude enough to comment on how much you eat?"
She nods slowly, "Yeah, can't get through a meal without some snide comment on where I am putting it. Which makes me want to punch the guy, so on the rare occasion I do go out with a friend or something, I just order however much they order, and just stay a little hungry 'til I get home. Which...also makes me want to punch somebody." She chuckles, and Yamcha resists the urge to throw his arm around her shoulders comfortingly.
"Well, don't do that around me, alright? I don't want you to be hungry whenever we have a meal together. I promise I won't say anything that would hurt your feelings..." He laughs, "Tomorrow, I promise to buy you all the hotdogs and nachos your heart desires...It'll be nice to be out with a girl who actually eats something. I always feel like a slob shoving food into my mouth while the girl 'just wants water, please'."
She laughs, "Yeah, that's not me." She smirks up at him, "But you are still so sure that you aren't gonna disappoint me in this fight?" Before he could reply, she is turning into a break in a fence beside them, and he follows her inside, looking at the large open area and realizing they are on a small baseball field. How ironic. He turns back to look at her, grinning wildly and throwing her satchel on the ground before walking to the middle of the field. He follows a few paces behind her, and she turns to face him again with a focused but amused face. "Well, Yamcha...Show me whatcha got."
He hesitates. I can't throw the first punch. If I hold back too much, and she is as strong as she says she is, she is going to be pissed at me, but if I don't hold back enough, I could really hurt her. He scratches his head nervously, That, and I am still a little drunk, my response time isn't in the best shape right now. "Uh, how about ladies first?"
She shrugs, "Ugh, fine." And Yamcha falls back into a defensive stance, keeping his eyes on her as she steps into one too...Not one he has seen before, Her arms and legs are still close to her core, but her knees are bent, and her right foot in the front has the toe of her sneaker just barely touching the ground. By the time he realized it wasn't a defensive stance, but a preparation for a pounce, she was already lunging towards him, and fast, too. His eyes could barely see her as she came towards him with a look of amused determination, he could sense her though, so when she came at his face with a swift right jab he was able to grab her fist in his left palm. Damn, was that stronger than he expected. He noticed the flash of shock on her face, before it was replaced with a bright grin.
Then, as if a dam broke, she came at him for real. A flurry of punches coming from the smiling woman. With each punch he blocked, the next one would be faster and harder, and he really was rusty, because he was starting to wonder how long he could maintain this pace of blocking and dodging. Then suddenly, she disappeared. Her form. Her energy, all of it.
When she popped up again right behind him, with a flare of power from her body right against his back, he acted without thinking. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was a flashback to the last time someone snuck up behind him and he died. Or maybe it was just the beers limiting his ability to think before he acts, but he spun around with a mighty heel kick. Right to her jaw. Full power. And she staggered back, clutching her jaw in her right hand and he realized what exactly he had just done.
"Oh fuck! I am so sorry! I didn't mean to hit you that hard! You surprised me, and I am still a little drunk and I-" He is advancing on her with his hands up in surrender as he stammers out apologies and expletives. When he gets to her, she spits a thick glob of bloody saliva on the ground next to her and Yamcha is just overwhelmed with guilt and fear and-
And then she looks up at him with one of the most vibrant joyful smiles he has seen on anyone as she drags her tongue across the busted spot on her lower lip, and the other emotions fade just enough to make way for confusion. "Do you have any idea how long it has been since anyone was able to hit me like that? To make me bleed?"
He begins to stutter again, "I am so sorry. I really didn't mean-"
She begins to laugh as she places her right pointer finger on his lips mid-ramble, "Yamcha. Shut up. I am glad. It's the most alive I have felt in years." She drops her hand and his lips slowly drift up into a smile and he feels the heat in his cheeks and he can't tell if it is a blush or not.
"Really? I-"
She interrupts him with a wicked grin, "So it's only fair that I return the courtesy." Before he can fully process that sentence in his drunken mind, he sees her right foot coming from behind her with truly impressive speed and flexibility to make a hard hit to his left temple. His vision goes dark for just a moment, and he can feel his mind reeling from the blow. And yeah...it's kinda nice.
He doesn't realize he is laying on the ground, smiling like a maniac until he hears her laughing, and he looks up at her outstretched hand. "Sorry, I shoulda given you more warning. That was sorta a dick move. I thought you would dodge it, actually. But I guess your reflexes are a bit hindered by all the booze I was feeding you all night." He puts his hand in hers and she pulls him to his feet.
"Yeah, sorry. Next time we will make sure I am sober." He chuckles nervously, removing his hand from hers, "Assuming there is a next time."
She smiles and cocks her head towards the entrance where her satchel is, "If you want to. I had fun. Didn't you?"
"Yeah!" He exclaims, "I'd love to do it again." As she bends over to pick up her satchel, he continues, "I guess you decided I am up to your standards?"
She shakes her head, "You are worth a shot. I gotta try you out sober... And when you aren't holding back so much."
He tilts his head, she could tell? Then he thinks back to what he felt right before he kicked her. The wave of power just behind his back. She had the chance to hit me...She was just seeing if I could sense her there. She was testing me. Realization struck, She was the power I felt in the bar when I first walked in! Holy shit. "Me?" He responds as they exit the park, "What about you? I couldn't sense you until your little flare up behind my back, so I know you were holding back too."
"I was wondering if you felt that or if you just got lucky." She speaks as they continue down the street. I guess I am walking her home. It's a wonder she trusts me enough to let me see where she lives. "I knew you had potential when you walked into the bar, but the power I felt in you then was nothing like what was in that kick. You suppress it like I do...don't you?"
"Yeah. But I can't push it down as far as you apparently can. I could barely feel you except for when I first walked into the bar, and when you were right behind me."
"Years of practice. I survived by being invisible." She looks up to him, "I can teach you, if you want."
"Heh, Yeah! That'd be great. I love learning new skills and techniques. It's been a while since I learned anything new." He looks down at her, "I am sure you have a lot more tricks up your sleeve. Maybe we can teach each other more techniques too?"
"That sounds fun. Like the start of a great friendship!" She skips forward, throwing her arms up in the air as she walks backwards in front of him,
"So, that means you are coming with me to the game tomorrow, right?"
"Ugh, yeah. I guess so." She turns around as they approach a little house on the corner. It's small and quaint, and she steps up a few of the stairs to the door. "This is me."
He smiles, "I like it. How about I pick you up around ten? Wear something comfortable."
"What about team colors? Who are we cheering for?"
He frowns, "I don't know. I didn't think about that. I always just wear yellow and red for the Taitans no matter who I am seeing."
She laughs, "I guess I'll either support your team or stick with neutrals."
He grins devilishly, "Are you gonna get one of those jerseys with my name on the back?"
"Don't get ahead of yourself. We have to see if I even like this game before we entertain the idea of me coming to cheer for you."
He laughs, "So you're saying there's a chance?"
"Small one."
"That's enough." He glances around, making sure he knows how to find this place again and how to get to his house from here. "Well, it was great to meet you Rhuby, and I will see you at ten tomorrow?"
She nods, scaling the last few stairs to her door and taking out her keys from her satchel, "It was good to meet you too, Yamcha. See you then."
He watches her enter her house and close the door behind her. The soft glow of the lights starting to shine through the window as he walks back down the streets the way he came. He raises his hand to his head and hisses as he notices the swelling there. That's gonna leave a nasty bump...Oh well I guess I deserved it for busting her lip. He smiles up at the night sky and the brightness of the half moon. Puar is not gonna believe this night.
Rhuby flicks on the lights and tosses her satchel to the ground before removing her sash and leaning against the front door to close it. Sighing, the tip of her tail flicks the bolt on the door, and she relishes in the feeling of flexing it for the first time all day as she slides down the door to settle on the floor. "What the hell am I thinking?" She sighs into her hands as her tail wiggles beside her on the linoleum. She remembers Pete's words of wisdom when she first got to this planet.
"You're a Saiyan, and you are here looking for another Saiyan?" The large bearded man says slowly, and she nods. "Yeah, that's a bad plan."
"Why? What do you mean?"
"I dunno about any guy named Kakarot, but several years back a couple Saiyans showed up, killed a buncha people, took a team of the world's best martial artists to take 'em down. The media covered it up as a hoax, but people still remember. You start walking around, waving your tail about and asking around for your long lost Saiyan cousin or whatever, and you are probably gonna get killed, or at least attacked."
"So you are saying there is no good way to find him? Not without putting myself and others in danger."
"Nope. If your Saiyan friend is still hanging around on our little planet, I am sure he is using another name and hiding his tail, and probably isn't going to just come right out and let you find him."
"Well fuck."
"I'd be careful about everyone else too. People see your tail and they are gonna freak out whether they remember the Saiyan incident or not. People aren't exactly accepting of things that are different, and I don't wanna see you locked up in a lab because you refuse to kill innocent people."
"So, I should keep to myself, hide my tail, and make sure nobody ever sees it? What if I wanna get laid?"
He laughs, "Then you are gonna have to figure out someway to keep it hidden. Maybe a reason you have to keep your clothes on?"
She raises a brow, "Yeah, cause that's not suspicious at all."
He shrugs, "Your problem, not mine...You wanna job at my bar or not?"
"Yeah, give me the damn job. I don't have anywhere else to go."
She lets out a growl as she drags her fingers across her lip, still a little sore to the touch. "I thought maybe I could get a few punches in and have a little fun and I'd be done with it... I never thought..." She bites her lip, remembering the determined smile on his face as he blocked her punches, and the moment when she caught a glimpse of the warrior he really is. Just before his heel contacted with her jaw, and just before he realized what he had done and turned back into the awkward, adorable guy she had been talking to the whole night, now terrified that he had hurt her. The look in his eyes was hot. And now she can still smell him in her clothes...on her skin. He had made her bleed, and then she wanted nothing more than to just jump his bones, right there in the park. But she couldn't. She was an alien, and he was very much human, despite being very strong for a human. Another shudder rolls through her, making her tail wiggle against the cold floor. And..."I wanted to see him again...I want to talk to him again. I want to fight him again." She growls, "Oh fuck, I think I actually like him." She clenches her eyes closed and shakes her head. "No! Nope. Friends. We are just friends. I want to just be friends. I can do this. I will not be a slave to my urges or my feelings!"
She falls over, laying her head on the carpet as she stares up at the stucco on the ceiling. "I can do this...right?"