Care to Command

8 Tattoo

Chapter 8

"What happened? Are you hurt?" Lucas asks when I drag him inside and lean against the door.

I dig my hands through my hair, eyes on the floor. "I'm losing it, I'm officially losing it. I just kissed and dissed an innocent artist, like she's a tampon or something, I just used her!"

"W-who kisses and disses a tampon..."

A train of thoughts is going off the rails and reaching a cliff. "I need to- I need to punch something!" I lift my head. "Let's arm wrestle."

"Huh?"

"Yes, that's it." I dash past him to my dresser, yanking out clothes then run to the bathroom. "You wait right here! I'm going to put on a hoodie and arm wrestle you!"

"What the fuck is going on?" He exclaims in a high pitch voice, and for a second I picture him as Alice in Wonderland, what does that make me though? The Mad Hatter? Who cares.

I slip on soft black leggings with an oversized hoodie, tousle my hair to cover my bloodshot eyes and storm out. "Ok! Let's do this!"

Poor Lucas is on the couch, taking up as much space as Nicole and I combined.

"I have no idea what's going on." He deadpans, trying to be serious, but there might be bit of fear in his eyes.

I drop on the floor, on the other side of the coffee table, and prop an elbow on it. "Lucas! Focus!" I giggle at how that rhymes, then shake out of it. "Listen, I need you to use your virility for a good cause. Think of it like a charity for mental health and let me kick your butt. Alright?"

"Listen to yourself." He leans on his knees, lifting an eyebrow. "You're acting like a thirteen year old who ate pot brownies for the first time."

"True story, did happen. Best day of my life."

He chuckles, moving his chiseled jaw to mouth something about my sanity, then spreads his knees a little wider, and sets down a giant arm. "Let's do it."

I gulp when my hand drowns in his grip. "Um...we should probably even the field."

"What do you mean?"

Face burning, I keep my eyes on our hands. "Well, since we can predict the outcome, given your inhuman size, it's just not fair."

"You don't say."

"Therefore, I get the liberty to claw your skin off."

"Excuse me?" He snorts.

"Nail digging to compensate for muscle mass, it's science."

"Absolutely not." He smirks. There's a chastising tone to his smile, and I frown, because I'm fucking serious.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want scratches on me!"

"Lame..." I mumble under my breath and get up.

"What are you doing?"

I ignore the heartless beast and do a quick warm up, stretching my arms, rotating my neck, jogging in place, repeating a mantra of 'I am Arnold Schwarzenegger' before sitting back down. I grab his hand, serious for hell. "Ready? Get set...go!"

Nothing moves. Not even his face. It's like I'm not even there.

"Hey, you can't use two hands." Lucas chuckles while my forehead vein pops and I grunt like a sumo wrestler.

"Must...win..." I fold my entire body over our hands. "Do you take steroid shots?"

"Stop, you'll hurt yourself."