It all started with Joy.

Chapter 5: The dating game, act 1.

Jesse.

I have always loved Sundays. Since Lily moved next door to us, we have spent every Sunday together; I remember when Jennifer, her mum, used to work on weekends, and my family would take her and her brother in for the day. We would play until sunset, stopping just to quickly scoff down my mother's roast before we were off again. Then, Jennifer got a better job, and she was off the weekend; however, they could see how much we missed each other, and decided to still continue having Sunday lunch together, switching house every week. Now, my mum and Jenni are the best of friends, and they continue the tradition even without us. I whip my head around when I hear Lily dragging her body to the couch and collapsing on the grey tweed sofa, before crossing her legs under her bottom; she pulls a blanket over her and drops a tub of chocolate and vanilla ice cream on her lap. She turns to me holding out two spoons.

"Ice cream?"

It's pissing outside and it has been for the whole night; the temperature has dropped even more, seemingly winter is coming rather than summer, and she has guilted me into switching the heating on because, apparently, she was freezing to death, but now she's eating ice cream. Typical.

"Ice cream?" I question.

She just shrugs, "it's an ice cream kind of day."

I pull the metal spoon out of her tight grip, and I pick up a chunk of ice cream, eating it in one go. That was silly, of course, because my mouth tingles and shooting pain spreads from my head.

"Brain freeze," I whine while she giggles, ditching the tub on the coffee table to wipe the tears that have pooled at the corner of her eye. She is enjoying this, huh? With a swift movement, I charge and lunge at her, landing us both flat on the sofa with Lily lying beneath me. There is a spark in her blue eyes that I have never noticed before as she studies my face, trying to decipher my next move. I grab her wrists with one hand, locking them down behind her head while my free hand roams her side until I hit one of her most sensitive spots, tickling her mercilessly. She giggles and throws herself in every possible direction, trying to escape my assault but I don't loosen my grip, and she parts her legs ever so slightly, allowing me to get closer to her.

"Jay," she begs, "I am running out of oxygen."

I rest my fingers where they are on her skin, pretending I am done before restarting my attack. "I have heard that one before," I remind her as she pouts and tries to move her hip away from me. During one of our last tickle fights, which, I have to admit, was quite a long time ago, she pulled the same stunt, and when I turned to get off her, worried sick she was going to be unwell, she betrayed me, assaulting me just below my ribs; I wasn't going to be that foolish again.

"Fine, you win," she screeches, defeated. But I am the tickle monster, her nickname for me when we were kids, and I don't let go just yet; I slow down my movements, brushing my fingers on her delicate skin, teasing her. As I continue stroking her, I can feel her heart racing and her erratic breathing filled with anticipation as she doesn't know if and when I'll strike again. One more round, and I'll let her go. But I don't manage to complete my mission because my phone rings. I want to ignore it, and just live this moment with her a little longer, but Lily has other plans.

"Are you not going to answer?" No, I thought that was clear since I was ignoring the little devil, "it could be our mums," she points out. Keeping her hands in place, I lean over the coffee table, and I groan, snatching the device to check who dares interrupting us. Lily lifts her head up, just enough to take a peek at the name flashing on the screen. It's Tiffany. When she sees the name, I feel the atmosphere around us change abruptly; before there was excitement and longing which had now been replaced by uncomfortable silence. She wriggles out of my grasp, and I let her as she seems quite determined to get up, while I press the green button, accepting Tiffany's call. I hang up only a couple of minutes later, after having confirmed our plans for the night, and I go look for Lily. The house isn't massive, so it doesn't take long to spot her in her bedroom; she is standing in front of her wardrobe, sliding the hangers on the rail until she finds a pair of black trousers and a shirt that I am sure she has picked out for her shift tomorrow.