Cheating Stikes and Photo Booths
Summer was way more excited than someone her age should have been. Her mouth hanged open from the moment they stepped into the place and she saw the neon signs, the kids running around and the glorious bowling alley.
Convincing the gang to tag along was no big deal, they always went out on Saturday night anyway. Fitting the six of them into Scott’s car was the hardest part. It was just like playing Tetris. Arguably, someone could have sped to the bowling alley and someone could have teleported there. Hell, someone could even had flown there, but all the buttheads wanted to go in the poor little convertible red car.
Summer couldn’t stop beaming at their names on the tiny screen. She was gravy, because somehow gravity just wouldn’t fit (at least that’s what Peter told. her); Peter was Silver; Jean was Ginger; Scott was Shades; Kurt was Blue and Ororo was simply Ororo, because she would punch someone if it was anything other than that.
That little screen brought Summer so much joy. It was undisputable proof that, for once, she was out, having fun with her friends, because now she had friends, apparently.
She was so entranced by the place; she almost wasn’t paying any attention to the game itself. What ultimately wakened her was the smugness on Peter’s face, as he came back from his sixth strike. In a row. He was either unbelievably good, or…
“Peter, are you cheating!?” She accused, to which he responded with a heart-felt laugh.
“Open your eyes, babe. Everyone is cheating.”
Not true. There was nothing that Scott could possibly do to make him score as many strikes as he had. Shoot lasers at the pins? No, that wouldn’t help. Scott was just that good. But everyone else pretty much could use their special abilities to gain some advantage. And they probably were. One closer look and she was able to confirm it: there was just no way Jean’s ball would naturally do that trajectory. They were all cheating. But Summer wasn’t. At least not until now.
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To everyone’s dismay, Peter won. It wasn’t by a great margin and he had to risk his own life diverting Ororo’s balls to ensure his win, but he still stood prouder than a cheater should have. The worst part was how smug he got about it, bragging about his bowling skills as if they weren’t close to non-existent. If anything, he only proved he was the best cheater out of the six of them, which he still considered to be quite something.
After a snack break, the gang flocked to the adjacent arcade. They split, everyone looking for their games of preference. Summer and Peter wordlessly decided to stick together. To her, he had that aura that just seemed to pull her in every time. Besides, the place wasn’t as familiar to her as it was to the rest of them. She felt safer sticking closer to him.
Peter was hoping to impress Summer with his gaming skills, as if it had worked on any other girl ever. She really shouldn’t be impressed with how fast his hands moved over the controls, but she couldn’t help it. He crushed Pac-Man. They cheated their way through table hockey. They made a stop at every single game in that room, until they stumbled into a photo booth.
Taking photos in a photo booth was a group activity, and yet they always managed to make that thing too damn small. As Peter took a seat inside the booth, they both wondered how the hell they were going to fit Summer in there with him: there was barely any space left in the seat. She was the first to come up with a solution, simply seating on his lap, like it was a no brainer. That completely froze Peter into place. They hadn’t been this close in a long time, if you excluded the car ride there anyway.
Peter was glad that she took the initiative to put the coins in and get the machine started, because he was still trying to remember how to function like a normal human being. Her presence was way too distracting to someone with an already short attention span.
Once everything was set. she leaned back into him, sandwiching his head between her own and a hand cupping his cheek.
“Smile” she instructed happily and he did, mechanically, as he was told. A flash announced that the first picture was taken.
She stuck her tongue out for the second one, and he kept that lost puppy expression that just wouldn’t wash away from his face.
For the third one, he remembered he had arms and, the fact that they were missing this great opportunity to hold her, pissed him off. He engulfed her into a hug and she closed her eyes, humming content.
For the final one, he wanted to make her laugh. He wanted her real smile immortalized in a picture. He tickled her sides and she tried to physically fight him in that small closed space, whilst also fighting the giggles that bubbled in her throat. The fourth picture was as genuinely them as it could possibly be.
Summer quickly popped out to grab the strip and quickly came back to her seat atop Peter’s legs. They both looked at the tiny photographs with proud smiles. Peter had always secretly suspected that they would make a cute couple, but he was wrong. They were straight up adorable together.
That tiny strip was as valuable to them as a piece of art. It was now the most valuable thing either of them owned.
“One more!” Summer announced, putting the machine to work once again.
They made funny faces at the first one.
Summer kissed his cheek for the second and he definitely blushed.
He wanted to do the same to her in the third one, but her face never moved back to face the camera lens. When he turned his face to her, he got lost in her eyes. He just looked at her, their faces inches apart, their noses almost touching, and they completely forgot there were pictures being taken.
Peter was damn tired of waiting. He was never known for his patience.
It took everything in him to keep his distance every day. To not hold her, kiss her every time he saw her around the mansion, it was like torture to him. She always looked way too good. Irresistible, is how she looked. All the damn time. Giving her time and space, to see the world through her own eyes, felt like the right thing to do at the time. He knew it was the right thing to do. But it took an inhuman amount of self-restraint. Something Peter never really had.
Peter closed the gap, kissing her passionately. She didn’t resist, not for one second. One of her hands went up to cup his cheek, something she loved to do. It reminded him of how many times she had complimented his skin, something he grew fond of. Her other arm went over his shoulder, pulling him in, as if they could be any closer. His hands squeezed the sides of her hips, a visual representation of how much self-control he was putting into this.
While his tongue explored her mouth, the rest of his body didn’t have the same liberty. Summer’s body against his felt as hot as a summer day. He always thought her name to be fitting, for she always felt warm, even from a distance. She felt even warmer that up close. Peter was painfully aware that she was still sitting on his lap, having moved to face him as best as she could, and that her body was involuntary moving up and down.
He was painfully aware of what was building up inside his pants and he was oh so close to embarrassing himself in the middle of that arcade. He blamed it on his sad sexual life, or lack thereof. Peter then made the conscious decision to bring down the heat, slow the kiss into a stop just in time for them to catch some air. Peter hated that he had to be the rational one in that moment, but he was doing it for the sake of his already weak moral.
Summer slowly, and somewhat painfully, put some distance between their faces, just enough for they to be able to look into each other’s eyes. There was something indescribably hot about her red post make out face. Her arm never moved and her thumb started to caress his cheek.
“We need to go home” Summer whispered, her look trying to convey the urgency in what she was saying.
Honestly, Peter doesn’t know how that hadn’t done it. He was going to pat himself in the back once this was over, for literally keeping it in his pants.
There was so much to unpack in that short sentence. The fact that Summer used the word need instead of want. The fact that she referred to the institute as their home. The fact that she used the word we, indicating that he absolutely needed to go with her. The implication of what they would do once they got there.
Peter had a feeling she didn’t meant for him to speed them away to his room. Or to hers, it really didn’t matter. They could be there in a second. Hell, they could’ve been there seconds ago. But she didn’t mean it like that. She meant for them to recompose themselves, go after the others and convince them that it was time to leave. It was a painfully sad thought.
Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his lips as her thumb went to trace them. Peter really didn’t want to leave their little bubble and go pretend this didn’t happen in front of their friends. He wanted to kiss her again. And again. And one more time after that.
Summer pressed their foreheads together, let out a sad long breath and stood up and out of the booth. It pained her as much as it pained him and it required some strength and willpower. Tearing herself away from him was like ripping a Band-Aid: something you didn’t want to do, because you knew it was going to hurt, and then did in one swift move, because you knew you had to.
He felt her absence immediately, in the sudden coldness that settled in the air. The booth that was once to small, suddenly felt way too spacious. Peter sat there alone for just a beat longer, before releasing a sad long breath of his own and exiting too.
He found her right next to the photo booth, smiling down at two photo strips. She was glowing and his heart twitched to think it was because of him. He didn’t feel worthy. Summer was too good for him, too much for him.
Peter went to take a look at the photos, but she quickly hid them behind her back and shuffled them between her hands.
“Pick a hand” Summer said with a playful smile. God, he adored that woman.
“Left” Peter said, after a second.
Summer handed a strip to him and it was his turn to beam down at it. Silly faces for the first one, a kiss on the cheek for the second. For the third, the magical way in which they looked at each other, as if there was no world outside of that booth. The most perfect kiss for the fourth.
Peter got the one he wanted.