Walking With The Outcast

Chapter 14 - Lucilia

I stand in the lunch line, gripping my tray with Ace trying to take it from me. We're arguing with each other over who gets to carry it. Of course, his way of arguing is repeatedly shoving a note in my face that says, "I'm carrying it. Give it to me."

That coupled with me fighting back, saying, "It's mine. Get your own tray.", makes for a very funny looking scenario.

He huffs loudly, scribbling furiously and glowering darkly at me every few seconds. Normally, I let him have his way, but sometimes I feel the need to remind him that he can't always get what he wants.

Again shoving the note in my face, Ace leans on the cafeteria counter, stubbornly blocking my path. The note says, "If you don't let me carry the tray, I'm going to do something you won't like."

The smug smile he sends at my narrowed eyes sparks the fire of my own stubbornness. I smile lightly and lean close to him. "And what would that be, pray tell?"

He reaches out, resting his hands on my sides, squeezing ever so gently. Then one hand slides to my stomach, the other wrapping around my back to the other side, bringing me closer to him. The food tray stops me from going to him completely. He leans over the tray pressed to his stomach, his breath fanning my face, smelling of cinnamon. We stare at each other lean closer, our faces straining towards each other. We freeze inches apart, me standing on my tiptoes and him leaning down, while balancing me. The moment lasts briefly, broken by his next action.

A devious smile appears on his face, and his fingers start to tickle me relentlessly. Falling into a fit of giggles and squirming, I almost drop the tray and spill its contents. I try to escape, but his hold on my waist is steadfast, completely unbreakable, as if the thought of me leaving is unbearable.

"Fine." I all but scream.

Ace stops, buts stays paralyzed, transfixed by something on my face. His eyes seem to have darkened from the usual misty green to a gorgeous marsh color. His mouth parts, as if he wants to tell me something. I wait with lungs halted, but all that escapes from him is a breath so light, I barely felt its caress on my lips.

Stepping away with my tray, Ace turns from me, but not before I noticed the disappointed and frustrated crease to his brows. I shake his sleeve, earning his undivided attention.

I gesture to his hands. "Thanks for carrying my tray."

Th irritated furrows adorning his handsome face vanish, and he nods his welcome.

Making our way to a spare table, our duo is made a trio by Ethan's happy arrival. Our odd group sits down, digging into the food.

Ethan stops suddenly and studies each of our faces. Then he reaches into his pocket, retrieves his phone, and looks at something. Judging by the head turns he performs, I'm assuming he is admiring himself.

Slamming the phone down, Ethan exclaims, "We're like the Beaten Bunch!"

I drop my pizza.

Ace chokes on his food.

And Ethan looks extremely proud of his dubbing skills.

After assuring Ace doesn't choke to death, I say, "I thought you were aiming for villain nicknames?"

He waves my comment away. "Too overused."

Ace hands me a note to read aloud. "Yes, because I hear so many people calling each other the Riddler."

Ethan grins stupidly. "Exactly. So I'm going to think up some cool names for us."

Ace shakes his head and looks heavenward, as if searching for help from the cafeteria lights. Then, when satisfied that nothing can help Ethan, he returns to eating.