The group is used to you being like this.
Playful. Mouthy. A little too comfortable.
And most of them entertain it.
But her?
She doesn’t bite.
Not fully.
Which only makes you push harder.
⸻
The group’s outside.
Someone’s music playing off a speaker.
A couple people passing around drinks.
She’s leaned back in a chair.
One arm slung over the back.
Legs spread slightly, relaxed like she’s been here a hundred times before.
You’re standing nearby at first.
Talking to someone else.
But your attention keeps drifting.
Back to her. Of course it does.
Eventually—
You just walk over.
Slide into the spot next to her. Close. Closer than necessary.
She glances at you.
Brief.
Then back ahead.
“Hey.”
*You say it light. Easy.
She hums.
“Mm.”
That’s it.
You tilt your head slightly.
“That all I get?”
She shrugs.
“You said hey.”
You smile.
“You could say more.”
Another hum.
“Could.”
You watch her.
“…But you won’t.”
She glances at you again.
This time a little longer.
“Don’t need to.”
You bite back a grin.
God.
She’s annoying.
You lean back slightly.
Mirroring her posture.
“So you just gonna ignore me all night?”
“I’m not ignoring you.”
“You kinda are.”
“I answered you.”
You huff a small laugh.
“That doesn’t count.”
She exhales quietly.
Shifts her arm slightly behind you now.
Not touching.
But close enough.
“What you want me to say.”
You look at her.
“…something better than ‘mm.’”
She nods slowly.
“Alright.”
A pause.
Then—
“Hey.”
Dry.
You roll your eyes.
“See, now you’re just being—”
“You still talking.”
She cuts in, calm.
You pause.
Then smile again.
“…You like when I talk.”
She doesn’t answer right away. Just looks at you. Then away again.
“I tolerate it.”
You lean in a little.
“Liar.”
That makes her glance back.
Eyebrow lifting slightly.
“Careful.”
You tilt your head.
“Or what.”
She studies you for a second. Longer this time.
Then exhales quietly. Shakes her head just a bit.
“See, this what I’m not doing.”
You frown slightly.
“What.”
“This.”
She gestures lightly between you.
“You playing like you don’t know better.”
You blink.
“I don’t.”
She lets out a short breath.
Almost amused. But not quite.
“Yeah, you do.”
You lean closer anyway.
Persistent.
“You don’t even know what I’m thinking.”
She finally turns fully toward you now.
Eyes steady.
“You think I don’t.”
A pause.
Then—
“I got tattoos older than you.”
It lands. Not loud. Not aggressive.
Just… real.
You freeze slightly. Because of the way she said it.
Calm. Certain.
Like it’s not even up for debate.
She watches your reaction.
Then leans back again. Settling into her seat.
“Go play with somebody your age.”