"Hey now, folks," Paxton called, his hands raised as if he could stop us by will alone. "The objective isn't—"
"The objective is to make her beg for mercy," Sebastian replied. "I'll accept nothing short of complete and total submission."
I knocked him upside the head. "You'll die unfulfilled."
"Trust me, I'm planning on it."
"Folks," Paxton cried.
"We've got this," Sebastian said to him. He sent me rolling end over end and then grabbed my hand and yanked me to my feet. "We do worse things to each other at least once a week."
"And we don't wear helmets when we're doing it," I added.
Abandoning the lance, I plowed straight into Sebastian and knocked him over like a bowling pin.
"Get back here, you evil little blueberry!"
Bubble suits weren't designed with running in mind but I was able to pull off an effective scurry. Score one for short girls.
Sebastian did not have the same success. He stumbled and bumbled. He chased me from one corner of the ring to another while I cackled and hiccuped. I bounced off the ropes. He somersaulted, then rolled once more. We took up the lances again and bludgeoned each other while we shouted and swore and laughed ourselves to tears. We didn't stop when Paxton blew the air horn that signaled the end of our time in the ring. It was only when I lost my hold on the lance and, instead of knocking Sebastian off his feet, I took us both down and into the ropes like a pair of skewered cherry tomatoes that we stopped.
Everything inside me was blown wide open in the most vital way and I wanted to bottle this fun, this silly joy, and press it into the palms of people who couldn't get out of their heads for a minute. I wanted them to know that all the terrible things they'd endured, all the things they'd inflicted upon themselves, could feel like the tiniest pinprick of a memory. I wanted them to know what it was like to go flying backward, ass over ankles in a bubble suit, and laugh so hard their ribs ached. I wanted them to know it got better.
Paxton stepped between us then. "You two are mean," he muttered as he freed me from the suit. "I'm a little concerned about it."
"Not the first time we've heard that," Sebastian said. He watched me flop down to the mat from his overturned turtle position.
I was drenched in sweat and breathing hard. My hair was a wreck from the helmet but also because it was always wrecked. My leggings were up my ass yet also falling down. One boob was achieving above and beyond the bra cup. I smiled up at the sky. Everything felt amazing.
"Nothing to worry about with us," I told Paxton. "We're as right as holes in the ozone."
Paxton yanked the bubble suit off Sebastian and gave us a weary shake of his head. "Have you tried therapy?"
"Yeah," Sebastian said, joining me in collapsing on the mat. "Therapist sent us here."
"Well, shit." Paxton hooked an arm through each suit and trudged off, the air horn hanging out of the back pocket of his jeans.
Sebastian reached over, his palm landing in my hair, his fingers splayed over my forehead. "You're a tiny tornado," he panted. "You leveled me."
"Told you I would."
"Consistent," he said hoarsely. "You're so fucking consistent."
"If you're trying to compliment me, you should try harder."
He rolled, caged me with his hands on either side of my shoulders, a knee between my legs. "How hard do you want me to try?"
I lifted a hand to shield my eyes from the sun. The long-sleeved black t-shirt fit him in a manner I could only describe as inappropriate. Even if I didn't know what I'd find under the stretchy cotton, this shirt left no mysteries. No imagination required.
It was too bright out here. Too warm.
"Depends on what you're expecting to get," I replied.
He shifted to sit on his heels, my leg still trapped between both of his. Reaching back, he grabbed my free ankle. "The last thing I ever do is expect."
"What does that mean?"
He shook his head as he bent my leg, my knee to my torso, before he propped my sneaker on his belly. It was the prime position to knock him on his ass but we both knew I wasn't going to do that.
