:: â :: { đżđ€đŁđŁđđ } gets dared to kiss { the girl đđđ©đđ has a crush on } ! â may be a classmate from their childhood, or any of the girls he's soft for in seattle (sabrina, violet, felice), or max (the nuclear option).
ă ACCIDENTAL ACTIVELY MALICIOUS* AFFECTION MEME // send me â for your muse to get dared to kiss me //  ACCEPTING but honestly there are better memes in my tag you could send instead if these donât appeal. // special thanks to nina for answering my 6,000+ questions about mitch and coming up with most of the npc names. ă
                          âŻÂ âŻÂ âŻ
The superstitious Catholics of Chills, T.X. believed that their townâs hardships and abnormally low nightly temperatures were caused by the devil himself walking along their dirt roads after sundown, and it was advised that every kid had to be in the house by dusk. But nobody ever specified whose house they needed to hole up in. So, every time Duane Yazzie spent the night at his girlfriendâs, Mitch â ever the humanitarian â was quick to let everyone in school know they could come to his place for shelter.Â
More beer than any grocery store cashier should ever have let Mitch and Donnie buy with the fake IDs they got for $30 each from some crazy-eyed war vet in Bellmead, but the minimum-wagers in Chills would look the other way for half the price of the fakes. Mitch bought 24 bottles of đŽđđđđđ đŻđđđ đłđđđ because that was Duane Yazzieâs favorite beer. Donnie picked out a case of đđđđđđđđđđ because Otis Marshall notoriously hated it. They pooled what was left in their wallets, along with the cash they collected from the rest of the baseball team, to buy canned đ©đđ
đđđđđđ and đ·đ©đč to pad out the coolers, after putting their heads together, counting on their fingers and toes in the middle of the aisle, and calculating that those brands had the best price-to-ABV ratios.Â
The real challenge was getting the kids with stricter parents to Mitchâs co-ed party, but for those who couldnât sneak out the old-fashioned way, Donnie mapped out a web of lies to smuggle everybody under the radar by funneling them through increasingly laid-back halfway houses. (See, Abigailâs helicopter parents were okay with dropping her off to spend the night at Sadieâs, and then Sadie could tell her slightly cooler parents that they were moving the sleepover to Hannahâs instead, even though Abigail could never directly ask to go to Hannahâs, because Hannahâs mom was a trashy parent who never knew where either of her kids were, let alone their alleged guests.)Â
With no soldier left behind, not nearly enough pillows and cushions for everybody to sleep comfortably when they all crashed, and plenty of booze to ensure that no one would be conscious enough to mind that, the party was shaping up pretty nicely. Even in the days leading up, the boys got along the way they did back in middle school. Mitch was being a good sport when Donnie teased him, instead of escalating everything into a fight and ruining the mood of the lunch table. Their coach praised their teamwork when Mitch was actually willing to throw the ball to Donnie, rather than trying to steal the glory for himself like he usually did. And the biggest surprise â the one that made Donnie decidedly suspicious â came on the evening of the party, when Mitch left his Elvis records on the shelf and let DONNIE pick the music for the night: some unholy marriage of horny proto-punk crossed with bouncy 70âČs skiffle. Sleazy Grandpa Music, Mitch usually called it. But instead, he just laughed and said, âCool, dude.â
Donnie finally realized what was happening in the hour before the party started, when he spied Mitch quietly pulling their 2nd baseman aside to ask if he used too much Axe, or if he should spray just a little more to make sure it lasted the whole night.Â
So sheâs not going to her dadâs this weekend, then.
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As soon as he was ready with his third empty bottle of High Life, Mitch made sure to âsarcasticallyâ suggest Seven Minutes in Heaven within earshot of Maggie Abernathy, the loudmouthed head cheerleader who would get at least twenty kids on board, âwholeheartedly,â in under three minutes. Oh, câmon. Weâre in tenth grade, he sneered, all while he placed his palms on the couchâs arms behind him and leaned back to push it against the wall, making room for the circle of teens congregating on the musty carpet.
Mitch sat with his legs stretched out and his palms on the floor, at least 12 inches away from each hip, and immediately Donnie leaped over the possibility that it was simply comfortable for him to sit that way. He knew it was Mitch making his spot as wide as possible to maximize his chances. And it worked out for the old meathead, too, because within the first six spins, heâd already spent a collective 14 minutes in the closet with Hannah Pinckney and Abigail Bean.Â
Abigail was a hallowed prude, and Hannah had an overprotective gorilla for an older brother, so Donnie already knew that this was going to be a repeat of the time they played this game in the Summer before high school, and heâd have to spend the next two weeks explaining to Mitch that whatever supposedly happened in there didnât even technically count as third base, and, really, he found it hard to believe he even made it to second, because neither girl looked particularly ruffledâ but none of that stopped Mitch from looking particularly smug.Â
Once, when they were little, Mitch watched Donnie spend a rainy day stacking up a house of cards with the deck his dad used for poker nights. When he got to the last two cards, and stood up proudly to set the top turret of his castle, Mitch blew the whole thing down, all the way from the other side of the room, with an obnoxious whistling noise Donnie could still remember to this day. Hours of work, perseverance, trial and error. Mitch sat there eating sunflower seeds. Then he destroyed everything without lifting a finger. Donnie couldnât complain about it to the rest of their family, because he wasnât actually allowed to touch any of his dadâs stuff in the first place. He just had to spend dinner glaring at Mitch across the table in a silent rage.
There was, of course, no specific reason this anecdote sprung to mind tonight.Â
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Donnie waited for his turn, almost patientlyâ even given the circumstances. Mitch was the first to spin, with Donnie to his left, and he insisted they go counter-clockwise around the circle. He did that on purpose, of course. âHey, if this baby gameâs losing its charm,â he said, when Curtis Tackett whined about Mitch hitting two jackpots while he had to awkwardly stand as far away as he could in the closet with Eddie Spillane, âwe can just stop and go make a bonfire out back.âÂ
When the time finally came, Donnie leaned into the center, but paused while his hand hovered over the High Life bottle. He flickered his eyes up to survey the circle one last time, licked his lips, and then glanced back down at the bottle, barely hiding a wry smile. He didnât put his all into his spin. He flicked his wrist just enough to make sure it turned seven spots along the circle, and landed right on đ«đđđđ đłđđđđđđđđâ the girl Mitch recently started sitting next to in their Spanish class.Â
Mitch was quick to tell him to âstop fucking aroundâ and âspin the stupid bottle like a man,â punctuated with a punch on his arm. Half of the circle joined in to holler at him, a choir of âthat doesnât count,â and âhe just wants to kiss Daisy,â and âhow does this son of a bitch find a way to cheat in every single game we ever play.â
He dismissed their protests with a wave of his hand.Â
    ââ Bah, you drunk fucks got no idea what youâre talking about. It spun just fine. ââ
He started to stand up, but an aggressive hand on his shoulder yanked him back into his spot. Mitch leaned into the center of the circle, picked up the hollow High Life and held it out in Donnieâs face. Donnie hid his hands behind his back and shook his head with a tight-lipped smile. Most of the room looked to Maggie to step in, respecting her as the unofficial officiator of the game, but she kept quiet while she assessed the situation. Overall, the tone of the room seemed mostly good-humored about Donnieâs offense, because, like Mitch told them when they all started sitting down to play, they were a little too old to take a game of Spin the Bottle that seriously. But just to be safe, she kept an eye on the person whose reaction mattered most: the girl hiding her rosied cheeks and squeaky laugh behind her hand, Daisy Lagerfelt.
Daisy was a sweet girl, the type Mitch was a sucker for. Bubbly, prissy, and dumb as dirt. She didnât understand every joke, but she always laughed along, even when nobody else did. Daisyâs skin was soft and pale because her parents didnât make her do any work outside, but she was too lovable for anyone to give her too much shit for being spoiled. Her mouth was a bit big for her face, but her overbite made her look cute, like a little chipmunk you just wished you could hold. Daisy couldnât keep a grudge against anybody, and her classmates teased that she was simply too ditzy to ever remember why she was mad in the first place. Donnie suspected there was something deeper to it than that, but he didnât want to bum himself out by thinking about it for too long.
On a regular day, the first thing people noticed about Daisy was how she had the biggest chest out of all the girls in school. Tonight, everyone noticed that she curled her thick blonde hair just for Mitchâs party, and even the boys knew that it mustâve taken her hours.
Beau Ruckerman was the first to compliment her on it, because he had a crush on her even before Mitch did. That didnât mean much, because Beau had a crush on every girl at the school, but it was enough to make him put in some half-effort to stop Donnie from swooping in and taking her from both of them.
   â No, seriously, ass. It takes the fun outâ the game if you rig the odds like that,âÂ
Donnie looked his dear friend in the eye and nodded in agreement while he sipped his beer. He swallowed with a serene âahhâ before he responded:
                 ââ Thatâs why I would never do that. ââ
                                         â oh, for fuckâs sake! â      â somebody smack him. â
Daisy, blushing in a way that Mitch would try to blame on the seven and a half ounces of beer in her system, didnât say anything. And as much as Mitch and Maggie stared and studied her, nobody actually asked her how she felt about the situation. Maggie, presumably, because she read every hokey article on body language and empathy she could find, and took very vocal pride in her ability to read people. As for Mitch, Donnie assumed he must have been afraid to ask, because both boys knew her response could break his heart.
Nobody else bothered to ask, either, because that was just the status quo. Daisy rarely made decisions for herself. If someone liked her enough to cheat at a game just to kiss her, she would go along with them. Mitch didnât curl his hair for her (he couldnât dress himself up at all, unless he wanted Donnie to get everyone to rag on him for trying too hard), but here was Donnie Marshall, willing to argue with the whole party to get some time with her.Â
When Donnie pursed his lips and shared a quiet glance with her amidst everyone arguing about him, she cupped her hand over her mouth and giggled. He gave a light chuckle too, and kept his eyes on her until she looked down at her hands with a closed smile.
...She always hides her teeth when she laughs, doesnât she?
On the other side of the circle, boys and girls were asking Maggie to make the final call. Maggie was a respected councilwoman to the friend group. She had a level head on her shoulders, because she was the only kid whose family wasnât completely dysfunctional. She governed fairly and thoughtfully, taking everything into account â and as the de-facto confidante of the gang, she knew everything there was to account for. Both Donnie and Mitch resented her in some part for all the implicit authority she had, but Donnie was better at hiding it, staying on her good side, and working her system. He figured out that she worked mostly on a karma principle, and assumed that she would let him have his fun, because he was the reason everybody was able to come out in the first place, and in a way, they all owed him for that. He didnât understand why she was taking so long to just come out and say that already.
If she needed a final push, Donnie could arrange it. As fair and gracious as Maggie fancied herself, she was still human. Everybody had something or someone who could get under their skin. Make their muscles go tense and their face turn red. Break down the veil of manners and civility they built up and strip âem back down to their id, feral and nasty and merciless. Blow it all over like a card tower.
Donnie leaned back to get a look around the girl to his left, Sadie Comstock, and murmur to the boy at her other side, Curtis Tackett.
     ââ Hey, maybe this'll be the night you getâa plant one on Lindsay, buddy. ââ
Curtis didnât catch his drift, but, Beau Ruckerman, sitting on Curtisâ left, instantly did. He elbowed George Parsons and muttered, not as quietly as he intended, â Yeah, as long as weâre just pickinâ, I call Caroline next. â
Sadie Comstock huffed in disgust. â Nobody gets to pick! â  She turned her glare toward the boy who started all of this anarchy. â Donnie, a bitch spin doesnât count. It has to go more than halfway around the circle. Everybody knows that. âÂ
Now, these kids all swore like sailors, but it sounded uniquely forced any time Sadie did it. She was the only church girl stiff enough to write up the đŸđ”đ”đžđČđžđ°đ» đđđ»đŽđ for a game that only existed as an excuse for tweens to touch a boob for the first time. She was also the only one earnest and optimistic enough to believe anybody remembered that she distributed origami handbooks on all the games they played, let alone reviewed it at any point in the last three years (most kids used theirs as foul-tasting rolling papers and bonfire kindling; Donnie tucked his safely in the back of his bedroom desk drawer, in case he ever needed something from Sadie in the future).
Sadieâs outburst instantly put Mitch in a loserâs position, because nobody wanted to be on the same side of an argument as Killjoy Comstock, who only hung out with this group because there werenât many good-looking kids at their school, and the best in show innately flocked together. Her judgmental attitude got on the girlsâ nerves more than the boysâ, because her pretty face and hypocritically short skirts didnât soften the edge for them. Donnie knew Maggie would let him have his way just to spite the dweeb. The circle had already shifted from heckling him for being a dirty rapscallion to making fun of Sadie for being âsuch a hall monitor.â Mitch had no choice but to stop arguing.Â
Donnie didnât take Sadie seriously enough to look at her while she spoke, focusing instead on his pockets as he dug around for a waning, stubby roll of Mentos, leftover from his last lunchroom bottle rocket.
      ââ God strike me down if that bottle didnât go âround the world twice. ââ
He raked a breath mint out of the foil with his front teeth and locked eyes with Daisy Lagerfelt. His lips curled into a scoundrelâs smile. And, like any time someone smiled at Daisy, she smiled back with all her heart.Â
       ââ Whaddaya say, Daze? Did it spin all the way around or what? ââ
He wished he couldâve seen Mitchâs face, but he kept his eyes locked on Daisyâs. Donnie never let himself be the one to break eye contact. Daisy opened her mouth and hesitated, like she was trying to think of something clever or cool to say, but instead settled on:
                â It spun around! Honest, I saw it. â
                        ââ HA! ââÂ
While she laughed and turned to cheekily ensure Maggie she had no idea what everybody was talking about, Donnie finally got a glimpse of Mitchâs reaction: rolling his eyes and tossing the bottle over his shoulder in defeat. He was trying to suppress his temper, but Donnie was satisfied enough in watching the Miller bottle shatter behind him.
              ââ Betchaâll feel pretty stupid now, huh ? ââÂ
Donnie directed his question to the crowd, but really he was asking Mitch. He took the last gulp of his Ziegenbock and graciously placed the empty bottle in the center of the circle, filling the spot Mitchâs High Life once occupied.
     ââ See yâall in seven. ââ  He looked back over his shoulder and pointed a     cocksure finger gun at trusty old Maggie Abernathy. ââ ...Seven and a half ? ââ
                           â Seven, Donnie.âÂ
Maggie shot down his bargain, but her smile resurfaced after she rolled her eyes, and it stayed on her face until she heard Sadieâs passive-aggressive huffing again.Â
She set the timer for seven minutes and fifteen seconds.
Now, it didnât really get on Donnieâs nerves when Mitch kissed Abigail and Hannah, nor when he suggested that they stop playing â which, in retrospect, did happen right after Daisy spun, and spent seven minutes giggling and gossiping in the closet with Maggie â who, in retrospect, was spending just as much time looking at Mitch as she did Daisy, and, in retrospect, Abigail and Hannah kept looking back and forth between the two of them, too, almost like they were expecting something to happen â and, in retrospect, Mitch spent more time looking at Daisy than he did Abigail and Hannah â even as he was heading toward the closet with each of them â and, with no retrospection needed, Mitch hardly spared a second of his time tonight looking at Donnie at all, and, until it was Donnieâs turn to spin the bottle, it was like Mitch didnât even know he was there.
Like he could just knock down his card tower when they were in 5th grade, and then move on with his life, free of consequences for all of the grief he caused Donnie, and fall happily in love with some sweet girl, never having to think about his cousin ever again for as long as they lived.
None of that got under his skin, or turned his face red, or made his muscles tense. Mitch was the one with the anger management issues. But just because Donnie was completely cool and rationalâ not a single fallen card on the metaphorical floor of his heartâ didnât mean he was going to let it slide.
Before the door was even closed, Donnie was already playing with Daisyâs hair, running his fingers through the big long curls she styled just for Mitchâs party, scattering them, and brushing them over her shoulder. He hoped Mitch took his last glance at the left side of Daisyâs snow-white neck before the closet shut behind them, because Donnie was going to leave proof that he made it to second base. And Mitch would spend the next week getting an eyeful of that proof, every time he looked over at his sweet Daisy in Spanish class.
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