THE LEFTOVERS

25. Calling Bets

"Ha! That's what they all say at first, but it's always mor—" Bucky started, turning to face you with a knowing smirk.

You cut him off with an exaggerated scoff. "Who the hell is 'all'? You were literally frozen at 24, lived in hiding, and only re-entered society a couple of years ago. You don't know people at all!"

Bucky's mouth fell open, offended. "I don't know people?" he repeated, like you had just accused him of being an alien.

"Everyone knows you're anti-social," you said, crossing your arms tightly, gripping your plant like it was your emotional support in this absurd argument.

Bucky let out a sharp breath, tilting his head. "Ahhh, everyone says that?" he shot back, his tone mocking as he mirrored your stance.

You nodded dramatically, not backing down. "And I can say that with confidence because you're a public figure, and I've read what people say about you. So yes—everyone thinks you're a silent little baby," you added, snapping your fingers for extra flair.

Bucky rested his hands on his waist, looking both exasperated and entertained. "So you've been reading about me?" he mused, eyes narrowing with a mixture of amusement and something dangerously close to smugness.

You groaned, already regretting what was about to come out of your mouth. "I was forced to—by my mom, who has the biggest crush on you," you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Bucky's eyebrows shot up, his smirk growing into something downright insufferable. "Maybe I should go hang around her instead," he teased, stepping closer.

You gasped, eyes widening. "Well, she's probably the only woman in this century you'd be able to communicate with properly—with your tacky flirting skills!"

Your voice had risen slightly—okay, a lot—and you suddenly became aware of the people around you starting to glance over, intrigued by whatever ridiculous lovers' quarrel was unfolding at the farmers market. You clamped your lips shut, inhaling sharply as you and Bucky both stiffened, arms crossed, staring each other down like two stubborn kids waiting to see who would break first.

Neither of you moved.

A silent standoff.

And, honestly? You weren't sure who was enjoying it more.

"You don't think I can flirt?" Bucky asked, looking downright offended.

"I know I'm better," you shot back, lifting an eyebrow like you had just stated an undeniable fact.

Bucky exhaled sharply, his hands falling to his sides. "Is that a challenge?"

Oh, if you were going to be a smug little menace about this, Bucky was absolutely going to match your energy. He knew he had game, and he was not about to let some short, feisty know-it-all tarnish his reputation. His ego had limits. Besides, this could actually be fun—putting himself out there for nothing but pure competition, no stakes, no strings. Well... except for the satisfaction of winning.

"Fine! Yes!" you huffed, waving your hands dramatically.

Bucky smirked. "The pub. Tomorrow night. Whoever gets the most numbers by 1 AM wins." He extended his hand toward you.

"Deal." You shook it firmly.

"The winner chooses the punishment," Bucky added, his smirk widening.

"Great. Amazing." You let go of his hand with an exaggerated flick of your wrist.

Before you could relish in your victory, a buzzing noise suddenly interrupted. At first, you thought it was Bucky's phone—except, well... it didn't look like a phone. He turned away swiftly, suddenly guarded, pressing the device to his ear as he answered.

You tilted your head, pretending to be busy looking at a nearby stall, but your ears? Wide open.

His voice dropped into something neutral, monotone but weighted—giving away just enough to let you know this wasn't some casual call. He wasn't saying much, but somehow, he was saying everything.

Then, just as quickly as the shift had happened, he spun back around, flashing you a charming grin like it hadn't even happened.

"Tomorrow. 9 PM," Bucky confirmed, already stepping away.

"Wait—you're just gonna leave with my groceries?" you snapped, looking down at the bags he was carrying.

Without missing a beat, Bucky turned back, walked over, and dropped all of them straight into your arms. You stumbled slightly, glaring at him while he grinned like the absolute menace he was.

"You won't take it personally, right?" he teased, glancing down at you with a look that was entirely too amused.

And damn it, he really wanted to kiss you.

"Since we're just friends," Bucky added, throwing the words right back in your face before turning on his heel and walking off like he hadn't just been an absolute menace.

What an asshole.