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Word prompt: Sport

A single word meant to inspire immediate thought. Write what your imagination dictates.

Not beta'd.

I agree. If the past ten minutes are any indication, we're going to have a lot of fun together. We share the same sense of humour, and both give as we good as we get. Plus, it doesn't hurt that he's respectful with his quips. When you're the butt of a joke, it's a lot easier to be a good sport about it when you know someone isn't trying to make you feel like an idiot. Of course, I could be totally wrong about him, but I don't think I am.

"These things are fun and fun is good." The words slip out before I can stop them, and I make a split-second decision not to explain myself. Part of me is sure he'll know the origin of the passage, and I'm curious if I'm right.

"Did you just quote Dr. Seuss to me?"

Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner.

"I did."

"Let me get this straight. You're a music lover with the chops to passionately discuss her opinions, you quote famous authors and random Internet facts in general conversation, and you're willing to laugh at my stupid jokes?"

I'm caught a little off guard by his description of me. I like seeing myself through his eyes, even if I've never thought of myself in that light before. And if I'm not that girl already, I want to become her.

"That sounds a bit like someone I know."

"Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?" he asks.

For a moment, I'm tongue-tied. I couldn't feel more obvious. Can he tell I find him attractive?

"Uh-oh, you figured me out." Unfortunately, my reply does nothing to camouflage my pink cheeks.

"Look at that blush." His voice is unexpectedly tender, as though he has a fondness for the rosiness. Drawing attention to my problem only worsens it. I'm sure he's used to female attention, so making a woman turn red can hardly be something new to him. Still, his smile gets bigger as my flush deepens.

"I think you're speeding." I do my best to sound casual, though I'm sure he knows I'm purposely changing the subject so I can step out of the spotlight.

"Backseat driver," he mutters, one side of his mouth turned up in amusement. His wide, dimpled smile is lovely, but this lopsided one is sexy in an entirely different way. This is the shape his mouth takes when he wants his way, and I bet he gets it every time.

"Passenger seat driver, if you please. Unless you'd like to chauffeur me, in which case, let me slip into the back." I don't have anything in my arsenal that can hold a candle to his smirk, so I don't even try, trapping my bottom lip between my teeth to keep myself from smiling.

"Oh… um, your… yeah, never mind." His eyes dart back to the road. He checks his mirrors and the odometer repeatedly, looking everywhere but at me.

"That's what I thought." I have no idea what I'm saying. I'm going on gut instincts that I don't even understand at this point. It's a total adrenaline rush to go toe-to-toe with him and win. I'm already wondering when I can chase the high again. Unfortunately, I'm not even sure how I won the battle, only that I want another glimpse of him when he's a tiny bit out of control. With a new appreciation, I see how innocently addiction can be born.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who's supporting the story. Your reviews are much appreciated.

From: One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish (1960): "These things are fun and fun is good." ~Dr. Seuss

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