You Never Play With Me!
Miyako's eyes rolled upward to the clear sky, her hands clasped beneath her chin in true This-is-The-Church fashion.
Dear Lord, she prayed, please let him be kidding. Her breathing quickened as she heard the footsteps coming closer, and the young woman understood she had nothing left to do but to clamp her eyes shut and wait.
A few more feet and…! Miyako became sensitive to a quick movement on her right side, and instinctively she flinched when a firm palm cupped her elbow. The girl warily opened one eye.
"You can't be serious."
"I can't?" The young man replied, giving his sweat-shirted companion a most childlike grin. "My dear Miyako, if there is one thing that I am ever serious about, it is the issue of my fitness and the health of those dear to me." Sarcasm seeped from his saccharine-coated sentiment.
A light breeze blue several stray leaves across the parking lot of the High School, the first few that Miyako had really noticed from the changing seasons. It was still early, but she was already in deep resentment towards the end of a far too short summer vacation, which meant the start of another boring semester of college.
Miyako's right eye twitched as she focused on the boy's face. The lean girl took a step in reverse, drawing her elbow from her oddly-clothed friend's grip so she might address him in an appropriate manner.
"Koushiro. If you don't take that thing off this instant, I vow to you that I will never let myself be seen in public with you ever again."
"Aah, Miyako wants more private time, does she?"
Koushiro seemed preoccupied with the task of being self-satisfied with his droll comeback, so Miyako, sensing a lapse in their banter (and not being the type of girl that would let such a perfect moment slip through her fingers), resolved that it was time to strike. With catlike agility, she leaped, her arm outstretched in the direction of his forehead.
"I know you th—errgh!" His hands flew to his head, but his defensive action was too little, too late.
Yolei clutched the shockingly blue sweatband over her head, a triumphant quality to her smile and saunter. "Not so clever now, are you Koushiro-sempai?" She beamed as she lowered her arms, and cleaved the worn out band of terrycloth to her chest.
Koushiro cringed, both his hands cradling his head. "Well, Miyako-chan, I think you took the sweatband along with all the hair you just inhumanly ripped out of my skull."
It turned out that Miyako wasn't the type of girl that would let anything at all slip through her fingers.
"Oooh! …Erk." She sucked air in through her teeth, and then bit her lip. "I'm sorry! Does it hurt? No, no. Of course it does…" She went for the more pressing question. "Why were you wearing that ridiculous thing, anyway?"
Clearing his throat, Koushiro rested a row of crooked fingers under Miyako's jowl, his thumb drifting upward to rest on the dimple of her chin. It was more of an act of influence than it was of fondness. Familiarity had taught him that his girlfriend often needed indication when they were cutting up to realize when Koushiro was being even semi-serious. She had a propensity to become absorbed in their playful banter, which could be charming, but had also been the source of several arguments.
"Allow me to jog your memory. You were the one who insisted on this." With his most dashing smile (which Miyako ranked 5th Most Dashing Smile of all the male Chosen Children—under Daisuke and over Takeru), Koushiro added, "I thought you might want me to look the part."
"Of what, some Barbie doll in the background of a work-out video from the 1980's?" Miyako made the jab as delicately as possible, but she was now the one with the self-satisfied aura, and she wanted to keep it.
She paused long enough for him to begin his reply before she began to amble towards the globe of orange resting on the free-throw line. The young man walked alongside the violet-haired girl, then shook his head when he leaned down to pick up the basketball.
"Remember this?" He asked, leaning over a little to poke Miyako lightly in the stomach. "'You're getting tubby, Koushiro!' or, 'You never play with me, Koushiro!'"
Miyako smothered the laugh that rose in her throat at this ghastly imitation of her, and turned to her comrade. The tone he used was light, but the darker undercurrents in his voice let her know that he was the tiniest bit upset by her initial reaction. A remorseful little half-smile played across her lips as she spoke. "You're so sweet to me, you know that?"
"I do."
She plucked the ball from Koushiro's hands. "So, you can let me be the goofy one—you don't have to play with me, just appease me." Miyako conceded, firmly adjusting the blue band around her own forehead and tossing the taller boy the basketball.
"Are you going to keep making me do things like this?"
"Oh, what, like come outside? Probably." Miyako rolled her eyes. A taunt was definitely in order. "Bring it on, Short Stack."
A sigh. "Whatever you say, Bean Pole."