Uninhibited

Chapter 20

"Hey, our - the hot dog stand," Brock pokes me in the shoulder and points ahead of us excitedly, his smile slightly awkward because of the word slip. It can't be helped, it's really nostalgically nice how many things are 'ours' around here, because they were ours. "Do you want a hot dog? And some jam donuts? And then sneak them into the movies?"

"Mhhm, you bet," I nod smiling mildly.

I want to be overtaken with the joy I used to feel running about here for a while, eat some donuts, watch a movie and just relax some sense and courage into me.

Grabbing my phone out of my pocket I text guiltily while Brock goes over and buys food.

To: Logan McKinney

How are you? I miss you.

From: Logan McKinney

Fantastic.

To: Logan McKinney

I'm good too –

I shake my head at my text, backspacing, should it be 'good'? Or would that seem like rubbing it in his face? Maybe tell him a terrible time is being had and it would be much better if he were here? But then he'll tell me to come home all convincingly adorable… Brock wouldn't like that at all, no, giving everything too much thought.

Stop thinking.

Hate myself. Hate myself. Hate. Myself.

And 'fantastic' no 'I miss you too'? He's totally mad at me for coming.

Getting annoyed at myself, I smack myself in the head with my phone; smack out of it Becker. You're stronger than this, you can handle things, you can handle all of the things come on it's just him being jealous and that's not good but it's not like you're doing anything bad here, just hanging out with an old friend…who you used to have feelings for…

Such a shitty person, such a shitty shitty person.

God, makes me feel like crying.

Why doesn't he miss me?

From: Logan McKinney

I hope you're not having fun ;)

Oh okay, he's being a smart ass.

That I can handle more than frosty replies or him being upset.

My heart squeezes at the thought of him sitting at home all upset and my lip quivers, my poor baby. I cradle my phone gently in my hands like it's him and stroke the numbers, he's being all smart ass-y and perhaps that's easy and better to handle but it still doesn't change the fact that realistically he's probably not feeling like much of a smart ass right now.

To: Logan McKinney

I am having lots of not fun, sweet thing.

From: Logan McKinney

… Don't get all cute with me, I reserve the right to be an ass about this.

To: Logan McKinney

Be an ass all you want :(

From: Logan McKinney

I hate you

Giggling and tapping his name affectionately I near jump out of my skin when a hot dog is waved in my face, a bit of sauce flicking off and hitting my cheek.

"Oh, sorry," Brock's fingertip swipes over my cheek and sends nervous tingles through me. "Getting a bit saucy there."

"Yeah, poop face," I step away from him as he rubs his finger off on a napkin, raising his eyebrow at me in confusion. "Oh um 'saucy' like 'cheeky'. I was insulting you like, being cheeky. Because you called me 'saucy'."

"Haha, silly."

His lips crinkle in the corners and his face lights up in adoration, making me feel guilty again.

"Don't do that, okay?"

"Do what?"

"Feel guilty for making me happy. Now eat your dog or we'll miss the 2PM showing of Hunger Games."

"Oooh."

"There, nice to hear some enthusiasm. Let me hear you one more time."

"Oooooooh!"

I raise my hot dog in the air and he raises his and I start to think maybe he's right.

We're going to have a great time today and nobody is going to stop us; nothing weird is going to happen, it's not going to get awkward in the silence of movies and the power of positive thinking will prevail.

Brock and I look at each other and nod in acknowledgement at this moment of change.

Perfectly innocent, good fun we shall have and then I'll go home to my Logan and we shall talk and everything will be great SO GREAT!

TODAY WILL BE THE GREATEST!

xoxo

I sit rigidly as Katniss kisses Peeta, how stupid of me to forget the kissing scenes.

Grabbing my phone guiltily from my pocket I 'check the time' i.e. text Logan in this awkward time because no one should ever should be sitting next to their ex while couples in movies make out. God I'm a shitty…shitty girl Logan likes to make out with, what am I even doing watching romance unfold with anyone else but him?

I look through my hair and spot Brock glancing at me, "Awkward enough for you?"

Shit.

To: Logan McKinney

I miss you again.

From: Logan McKinney

Okay?

"What do you think about his technique?"

"Oh, uh, yeah…Peeta's rather, um," I clear my throat.

"Wish I were Katniss."

I can't withhold my snort of amusement and stream of inappropriate chortles, covering my mouth and feeling bad for all the people who look my way, eyes narrowing. Brock laughs nervously and looks back to the screen, his eyes widening in horror; flushing red from his neck to his cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

He did not mean to say that at all.

From: Logan McKinney

Any specific reason? Are you guilt messaging me? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

Oh double shit.

Sticking my fingers into my mouth and shaking my head at the text I try to shield the glow, acutely aware that people are annoyed and not wanting to risk making them murderous.

"Who are you messaging? Is that um, Logan? Say hi, no don't say hi, that'd be weird."

To: Logan McKinney

Nothing nothing nothing no way as if

From: Logan McKinney

Say hi. Say hi from me, only really menacingly. Make sure he knows not to…not to do anything

"Uh, Logan says hi," I whisper and chuck in a stern look.

To: Logan McKinney

I did it

From: Logan McKinney

Does he look intimidated?

He blinks at me, eyebrows raised.

To: Logan McKinney

He looks confused

From: Logan McKinney

Give him the phone.

To: Logan McKinney

NO you will be mean. And I'm busy. Watching a movie, 'Kay bye.

Sticking my phone back in my pocket I'm pleased to see that the movie is back with the not kissing theme it had going on before and share a less awkward hey there, that didn't just happen look with Brock.

"Enjoying the movie?"

"Oh, yeah," I nod and stick my hand into the popcorn bucket on the floor – it seemed a better thought than reaching into each other's laps for it – an idea popping into my head causing me to smile. "Want to go for shakes afterwards?"

His eyes light up and he clasps his hands together.

"Oh yes, shakes."

"Okay how about for every sip we have to answer a question, that way we'll catch up real quick," I pat my mint-chocolate shake with a cheerful nod.

"That isn't fair, you've already had a quarter of yours," Brock snorts.

"Oh, fine, what are you trying to keep from me?" I raise my eyebrows and gesture towards his drink, sitting back in my seat and waiting for him to catch up.

"Oh, well in the time I didn't see you," He swallows, alternating between talking and drinking as he taps a finger against his chin thoughtfully. "I accidentally stole a lolly pop and didn't even go back to pay for it, opened a door just as my grandmother did on the other side and nearly gave her a heart attack, ate cake for breakfast for a week and a half after my birthday…you don't even know the half of it, it was a real uh wild period."

"Haha," I rest my head in my hands and smile amusedly at him; he looks down at his drink shyly, brushing his fringe out of his face. Brock is adorably dorky and so far from being bad ass he brings all his mum's friends to their yard, daughter in tow, trying to initiate something akin to an arranged marriage disguised as you two have a lot in common, hang out. "You didn't go to that store again did you?"

"No, no I did not, I mean one of the girls saw me put it in my pocket and she gave me this weird look while I was at the self-service desk like she knew," He shudders, taking an extra big swig.

"Hey, now you've got like 5 whole millimeters on me," I arch my eyebrows, scrutinising his milkshake. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Five millimeters?"

"Yeah, five. I mean where does it end, Brock? Soon it becomes a centimeter, then three and before you know it you've downed the whole cup and you're shrugging your shoulders like you don't know what happened. Come on, Maxy, still have a whole eighth of a cup left, gees."

"Serious?"

I put my cup in front of his and lean over the table, sucking it level.

"Deadly," My eyes flash mock warningly and he laughs, sitting back in his chair all shifty-eyed.

"So who goes first? How about me? I pick me," Brock pushes my cup away quickly and I straighten as he fidgets with his straw, red cheeked. Glancing down it could be noted that he uh, could see down my shirt the whole cup leveling time. "Start slow, how's your family been going? Kelly didn't tell me much, she uh, said she wanted you to fill me all in…only, that didn't happen because um."

He coughs loudly and knocks the sugar container over in the middle of the table with his elbow, it clangs loudly and rolls over knocking my cutlery.

"Sorry," He brings his arm off of the table and weaves his hands together anxiously.

"It's uh fine," I nod and fix the sugar. "Mum and dad are going well; they're having fun entertaining our exchange students and doing their jobs and stuff. Kelly is being adorable. Dad and I are planning to get some flowers put in the garden, a little father-daughter project."

"The special pink roses?"

"Yes, those," I smile, warmed by the fact he remembers that one conversation we had about it ages ago after all this time; he's always so good like that, remembering all of the little things that can be a struggle for me to remember about me. "Did I ever show you a picture of them? Because they're pretty much the most beautiful thing ever."

"No, they're not."

We both laugh nervously and look awkwardly away.

"Oh, you, flattering me."

"No of course not…I meant myself."

"Yeah you did, you pretty man you," I joke, awkwardly turning on my phone and determinedly looking through my photo gallery for the picture of the flowers, pictures of Logan and I posing the other day flick through; Logan hugging my leg and looking up at me, me pinching his cheeks and him pulling a serious face, one of him kissing my cheek, one of me kissing his cheek.

They make me feel all warm and fuzzy looking at them and serve as a much appreciated reminder at this critical time. I need adorable pictures of us. I need them to remind me how cute we are and how much we like each other and we're not going to let this whole 'not having a label' thing tear us apart. Or the fact that he prostitutes himself.

Prostituted.

A picture of him flipping my dress up teasingly pops up, the photo blurry because of me smacking him in the face. My heart does a little dance.

"What are you looking at? Going to ask me a question now?"

"Just looking for the picture of the roses…oh, oh it probably wouldn't be on this phone would it?" I blink, remembering the fact I got a new number on account of not wanting to talk to him or my friends ever again, ahem; can I get an 'awkward' over here? "So have those little girls next door stopped throwing their Frisbee into your yard on purpose since they smashed one of your windows?"

"No, they have not," Brock makes a face. "What is with girls, me and windows?"

"You let every girl that comes over smash a window?"

"Oh, hah, yeah," He laughs meekly. "Mum isn't too happy about my very original way of courting the ladies though, something about glass and dad's patience to fit it not growing on trees. What do they know?"

"Crazy talk."

Grinning he sighs contentedly, running a hand through his hair as he thinks of his next question.

I start to feel a little ache; I miss him.

His dark brown eyes are so inviting and safe, no one makes me feel like he does. I miss talking to him. I miss hanging out with him. I miss him holding my hand, listening to me vent, coming over and spontaneously giving me chocolate and the cute little notes he'd stick into my pocket when we were kissing. I'd find them later and they'd be all:

I love you

or

You make me crazy. You're my

And then pictures of stick figure him dancing deliriously with the sun pouring over him.

There'd always be short and sweet because he knew otherwise they'd set off my gag reflex.

"So what happened to university?"

I flinch and take a big sip from my drink, having skipped the last one.

"Can I tell you later? In the car?"

"Oh yeah, sure," He looks concerned and starts fidgeting with his straw again. "Do you think we'll ever be friends again? Like we were before?"

I stare at him and he panics.

"S-sorry, that's a little…"

"I sure hope so."

Brock smiles sweetly, pleased, and it makes my heart flip.

"Oh that makes me happy."

"You're welcome."

I look down anxiously at my milkshake, somewhat defeated.

It'll really suck if we can't be friends and it really sucks that we can't hang out because of it. I so want to spend more time with him; it's just good wholesome honest to goodness fun he's the embodiment of it. And I miss it and I miss him and the more time we're spending around each other today the harder it is to let go of it because while we used to have fun and that has never been forgotten…

It's not the same as experiencing it all over again.

My heart squeezes.

"Hey can we just go home now?"

His smile drops and there's silence for a while as he blinks at me, wanting to say no.

"Oh, uh, sure."

Brock picks up his milkshake, not even noticing as he spills a quarter of it down the front of him as he shifts his chair back distractedly. His head is drooping, his lips are determinedly straight and his movements are lethargic.

"I guess I'm paying then."

"Oh yeah, I win," He feigns a smile and holds his hands up in cheer.

Yeah milkshakes on me, like he gives a shit. He stands there adjusting and readjusting his chair so it's perfectly straight and a reasonable amount of distance from the table, his lips quivering. I get up too and close my eyes, trying not to heap a big pile of hate onto myself. I can do that when I get home. Here I need to be impartial, so that he can be impartial.

Brock doesn't want me apologising or feeling sorry for him and I owe it to him for ruining our day when it was going so well; so well it had to end before the shit started to hit the fan and I did something stupider than saying yes to him this morning.

"Are you going to pay or what?"

He winces after asking me, looking awkwardly away.

He feels like he's being rude.

I'm the rude one this time.

"Oh, yeah, sorry just," I don't have any explanation so I busy myself with getting my wallet out. It's really stuck in there, in the bottom corner of my bag somewhere. Digging my hands in and feeling him glancing at me every now and again I try to pretend everything's great, pasting a smile on my face. "Oh god where is it?"

My hand closes around it and I hold it high like a trophy, waggling my eyebrows.

"Whoo," he says weakly, eyes crinkling as he feigns another smile.

Whoo indeed.

This is going to be the most awkward drive home in my life.

XOXO

UPDATE YEAH MM

Take it.

Sorry for the belatedness I was writing I was everything just wasn't working for me I wrote this three times over until I got to a point where I felt comfortable enough with it

QUALITY

Or as much quality as I can manage.

Whoo