Once I got up from the floor and dusted the wood chips off my legs, I saw Ben and Jack going at it. Shit, shit, shit, I thought, trying to find an angle that I could jump in from to stop the fight without getting pulverized myself. There wasn't one; I was just going to have to let them get it out of their systems.
So I waited. And waited. And waited.
Finally they were both tired out from fighting. Or else, they finally couldn't see straight enough to keep hitting each other.
"Are you done now?" I asked, standing over them as they lied on the ground.
"Yes," said Ben, getting up. He extended a hand down to Jack, who pulled him down and got right back to hitting him.
"Guess not."
"Boys, get it together. You've been fighting for, like, ten minutes now," I said.
"You know we're fighting over you right?" said Jack, looking up at me from under Ben incredulously.
"This is like every girl's dream," added Ben.
"You guys are delusional. You're not fighting over me. You're fighting because you've basically hated each other for as long as I've known you," I said, adding, "It is no girl's dream to have either of you two loser-nerds fighting over her. Promise."
"Shows what you know, babe," laughed Ben.
"Don't call her babe," said Jack, practically foaming at the mouth.
"Do not lunge at him Jack," I said, "I'm getting a headache just thinking about all the first aid I'm going to have to preform."
"Well let me do you a favor, you don't have to tape me up Nurse-y, I'm a big boy," said Ben.
"Your shirt literally is ripped off of your body," I retorted.
"You love it."
"Shut up Ben," said Jack.
"Shut up Jack!" I said, "I'm so sick of you acting like you own me."
"Ball and chain much?" asked Ben.
"Fuck you," Jack and I responded simultaneously.
"I really do like you," said Ben, as I bandaged him.
"Ben, don't start. I just finished with Jack, I don't want to start all over."
"You know, you're ridiculous."
"I'm ridiculous? This is some weird plot of yours to terminate my friendship with your brother, because he genuinely does like me."
"It is not. Christ, Kay, why does this have to be all about him? It has nothing to do with him!"
"It's always been about him!"
"It doesn't need to be though," he said, grabbing my arm as I attempted to look at the cut on his forehead, "Can you cut the Mother Hen shit and just talk to me for a minute?"
"I have nothing to talk about," I said, getting into my car and driving home.