Game Theory × NH

071 | lutetium

× Horan

"This is cute," I grinned, looking at a picture of Lynn at the age of four swimming in a red jersey with her hands up in the air mid-cheer, the biggest grin on her face. Beyond her was a football field, little kids running around trying to get to the checkered ball.

Nona leaned over the island counter and looked at the photo album in front of me. "That was one of Anders' soccer games," she explained. "It was a good day, they had won. However, it was definitely a day to remember. When we were on the way to the game, Lynn had asked how babies were made. Now, mind you, her parents thought she wouldn't understand most of it so they told her all about the sperm and the egg and so on. Then, sitting at the game with parents all around us, she blurts out 'Daddy, is your sperm still inside me?'"

I busted out laughing. I could imagine that scene perfectly; an innocent little Lynn confused as to why everyone around her looked so horrified.

"What's so funny in-" Lynn started when she entered the kitchen, but as soon as she saw the photo album lying open in front of me, she froze. "No, no, not the baby pictures!"

"Oh, relax," Nona said with a wave of her hand. "We're well past baby Lynn in the bath."

I just now took notice what she was wearing; nothing but a towel. She had clearly just gotten out of the shower. Involuntarily, my eyes traveled down her legs that exposed themselves under the hem of the towel around her waist. I quickly looked away before Nona or Lynn could take notice in my sudden interest change.

"I just told him the time at your brother's soccer game," Nona explained. "You know, the one when you asked-"

"No!" Lynn shouted and covered what she could of her face with one hand, a red tint going to her cheeks. "That's worse than the bath pictures!"

Nona laughed and went back to chopping up onions. "I wouldn't go that far, dear. However, shouting at the top of your lungs in the middle of the movie theater lobby that you 'wanted cockporn' probably made it to the top of the list."

"Okay, we're done," Lynn said as she reached over and grabbed the photo album, slamming it shut.

"Aw," I pouted. "I was rather enjoying myself."

Lynn took the stool beside me and adjusted her towel so it wouldn't fall off. "Well, you're just going to have to find something else to amuse you."

Without warning, my hand went to her uncovered leg, slowly running it up her thigh. "I have a pretty good idea what might work."

She watched me with wide eyes and quickly looked over at her grandma to see if she was paying any attention. Then Lynn swiveled away from me so my hand left her skin, but her ankle twisted the wrong way in the process and she let out a small wince, face scrunched up in slight pain.

Nona herd the grimace and paused from chopping onions to looked over, concern written all over her face. "You okay, dear? Your ankle acting up again?"

Lynn was bent down, her back to me, hands wrapped around her ankle as she twisted the joint around in a circle, feeling the pull of her muscles contrasting to her touch. "Yeah," she answered. "It started a few weeks ago. Now it doesn't take much for it to hurt."

"The doctor did say that it would give you problems," she told her granddaughter. "He also advised that you not play soccer anymore, that it would make more complications in the future."