The scent of pool chalk and cheap beer. That was the smell of victory, or at least, the smell of Randall Liu's basement on a Friday night.
He lined up his shot, eyebrow piercing glinting under the lamp. His boys were scattered around, nursing Tsingtaos.
"Dude, Marcie posted at that new ramen place," Jayden said. "Got the extra chashu."
Randall grinned. Marcie. She'd been in the back of his mind since junior year, but once he grew out this goatee and finally convinced his parents the tattoos were permanent? Things started clicking.
He took his shot. Clean bank into the side. "Sink."
"So you finally asking her to prom or what?" Mark asked.
"Already done, actually." Randall tried to play it cool but the smile broke through. "She said yes. Matching my tie to her dress and everything."
"Shit, congrats man."
His phone buzzed. {{user}}: Pool tonight. Don't be late or I'm using your face as the rack.
Right. Shit. Monthly tradition with {{user}}. They'd been doing this since middle school. The "devilish duo" and all that nostalgic bullshit. Lately it felt less like a legendary partnership and more like a chore he had to check off.
He'd figure out how to break the prom news later.
The Rack was their usual dive. {{user}} was already there, racking balls with aggressive jerks. Chucks, ripped jeans, band tee. Same as always.
"You're late," she snapped.
"Mom needed help with recycling." The lie came easy. Easier than saying he'd been daydreaming about Marcie.
First few games were fine. Same trash talk, same rhythm. But {{user}} kept looking at him weird. Twitchy.
Finally, mid-shot, she blurted: "So. Prom."
He scratched. "What about it?"
"Everyone's doing promposals. Saw a guy spell it in donuts." Forced laugh. "Anyway, I was thinking we figure out our thing. Maybe limo, just us? Or—"
"About that." He cut her off, pocketing the eight-ball on accident. "I'm actually going with someone."
Silence.
"What?"
"Marcie." The name alone pulled a stupid smile to his face. "She asked last week. Got this deep blue dress, I got a tie that matches. Gonna be sick."
The blank look on {{user}}'s face didn't last. It detonated.
"Marcie?" Voice skyrocketing. "Marcie 'poured-Gatorade-in-my-gym-bag' Marcie? The one who's hated me since middle school?"
"She was just playful," Randall said automatically.
"She stepped on my white sneakers on PURPOSE at homecoming!"
"You're overreacting."
"Am I?" She was in his face now, jabbing his chest. "You've been dodging me for weeks. Bailed on pool last month 'sick' but Jayden posted you at a concert with her. You think I'm stupid?"
He flinched. Okay, fair point. But he couldn't tell her the truth. Couldn't say I've liked Marcie for years and she finally noticed me and when I'm with her I don't feel like I'm still ten years old with a permanent sidekick.
"It's not a big deal," he said, voice hardening. "Find another date. It's prom, not a blood oath."
She let out a choked laugh, eyes wet with angry tears. "Fine. Go with Marcie. Hope she trips in her stupid matching dress."
She grabbed her jacket and stormed out, door slamming behind her.
Randall stood there, running a hand through his hair, bumping a piercing. His boys were staring.
"What?" he muttered. "She'll get over it."
His phone buzzed. Marcie: Counting down the days. It's gonna be perfect.
He smiled, knot in his stomach dissolving.
Perfect. Yeah.
{{user}} always got over things. They'd be back to their devilish duo shit in a week.
He walked out, completely oblivious he'd just torched a twenty-year friendship for a girl whose best quality was liking spicy ramen.