#mckee

ʟɪɴᴋꜱ ↪ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴊᴀᴍᴇꜱ ꜱᴘᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜱ ↪ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.5ᴋ ↪ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ꜱᴛᴇꜰꜰ ᴍᴄᴋᴇᴇ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ↪ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ɴᴏɴᴇ

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

"You really call this 'fun'?"

Steff's slightly sarcastic tone only elicited a smile from you —a sly and rather amused one— that you had tried to hide from the laughter you were suppressing deep inside due to the expression on his face, which was even funnier when he took off his usual sunglasses, showing even more cockiness and arrogance. You were extremely grateful that, for once, your posh and charming boyfriend had let you choose what activity you could do together during your date day.

Usually, although you didn't complain about it, Steff suggested dates in which you did things he liked and that you wanted to try, to delve a little into the world he grew up in. Something you had made very clear from the beginning was that you wanted to get to know him, what he liked and what he enjoyed doing alone or with his family. In short, you wanted to get to know the real him, not the narcissistic, downright silly side of him that many people disliked. But, in the same way, he made a small effort to get to know you and, for the first time, had agreed to let you choose what to do on one of your dates.

Usually, these involved going to dinner at some expensive, famous restaurant in the city you'd never been to before, or going to some wine tasting you couldn't fully enjoy because you didn't like drinking alcohol, even if they were wines over a hundred dollars, at some vineyard Steff's family knew. Once, you went to enjoy an afternoon on one of his parents' sailboats, and although the trip was quite pleasant, you felt quite out of your comfort zone because it wasn't something you were used to; or go shopping, which you might enjoy if you did more than that during the afternoon, but there were times when you practically spent more than half an hour in a designer store and you got tired of having to wait for him to decide on the color of the jacket he wanted to buy.

In short, the times Steff had chosen the type of date you two would have, you hadn't enjoyed it as much as you'd hoped, until you finally decided to choose the place you both would go. He actually gave in because you threatened not to go out with him that weekend if he didn't accept. And, of course, he didn't expect the date you had planned for the two of you to be at a bowling alley.

"It's fun," you assured him, shaking your head slightly at his question before taking his hand to lead him inside the establishment. "We have all kinds of games. We can get some tickets and then we can redeem them for a prize on display," you continued, pointing to some of the arcade machines, shrugging in an attempt to make him understand that you both had plenty to choose from and do if you got bored. "And we can also go bowling. I'm sure there's something that catches your eye."

"How could something not catch my attention? Everything here has lights, it's too noisy because of the machines' little songs, and there are too many kids," Steff defended himself, trying to cross his arms, finding it impossible because you were still holding his hand, although he didn't let go. "Whatever you want, you chose this."

"You'll like it, you'll see."

Or at least you hoped so.

You knew what Steff was like; you knew him when he was popular and unpleasant to anyone who moved ahead of him and who wasn't part of his social circle, and you had come to appreciate the little things that were slightly questionable: he was stubborn, conceited, moody when things didn't go his way, a supremacist, and many other things that were almost pointless to bring up. But you had also discovered other little things that somewhat covered up the previous, at least to a certain extent. Steff wasn't what people had told you, and he wasn't what you'd known him as at school. He was calmer than those who shared his lifestyle, which had often led him to come across as a jerk. Steff acted like daddy's rich kid, but in reality, that was a mask covering up all the incredible and wonderful things he could be, all the things he wanted to show.

"Change your shoes. The last thing I need is for you to slip and fall."

Your comment didn't go unnoticed by Steff before he felt your hand release his, so you could head to the bowling alley you'd been assigned, number seven, where you were already searching for a suitable ball that fit your fingers perfectly and was the right weight for throwing.

Although Steff didn't say it out loud —because, as mentioned, he was very stubborn and conceited— the truth was that this date plan was wonderful and really fun, something very different from what he was used to doing with you and what he'd tried to do with his friends. Normally, the dates he invited you on were too expensive, to put it mildly, as previously mentioned, and it wasn't that he minded spending money as long as he could see a smile on your face, but the truth was, he'd noticed that those smiles were only friendly, not happy; he'd been inviting you on outings you didn't enjoy. He couldn't blame you either. He didn't enjoy the outings he suggested either, but he thought you did, so he kept suggesting the same thing over and over again until he could sense that lack of happiness or excitement in your eyes.

He wouldn't say it out loud, he never would, but he was attentive and careful enough not to ignore your feelings, which is why he accepted your proposal. Although he pretended he didn't like bowling at all, the truth was that he loved the idea and found it stimulating and exciting.

"You didn't hit any of them," Steff pointed out with slight mockery when he saw that your first throw had been a disaster, the ball quickly spinning in circles along the entire channel until, just as it was about to reach the pins, it spun to the left, landing in the lane and preventing you from hitting your targets.

You simply looked over your shoulder at your boyfriend and raised an eyebrow questioningly, as if you were silently scolding him for making fun of you. His sly smile and those bright, perceptive eyes made you stick your tongue out at him like a little girl, to which he simply placed one of his hands on his chest in mock surprise. Your dynamic as a couple was charming and fun, so situations like these happened often.

Even though Steff was a cheeky boy most of the time, the truth was that you found it amusing that he was that way. It never occurred to him to insult you or belittle you, just as you didn't do it to him. You mocked each other, laughed at each other, but never with any harmful intentions.

"I still have a second chance, genius," you told him with an innocent smile before returning to the pile of different-colored balls waiting for yours.

"Take any other ball. I'm not going to wait ten minutes for the one you used to come back," the blond urged, approaching you with a certain arrogance, looking at the various spheres with different numbers. "Take the ten."

"I can't hold the eight properly, how do you expect me to use the ten?" you asked, turning your head to look at him and watching him catch the ball without any problem, lifting it slightly in the air to try to show how light it was. "I'm not going to use that ball, and we're in no rush to play. The important thing is to have fun."

His dry laugh made you raise an eyebrow.

"You're lazy, use this one," he insisted, holding the ball out for you. "Hold it with your two little baby hands if you're having such a hard time picking it up."

But you didn't move. Instead, you crossed your arms. He quickly grabbed one of your hands to hold the ball, so you had to use your free one to grab it. It wasn't that the aforementioned ball weighed more than a medium-sized dog, far from it, but you definitely weren't used to carrying that weight while bowling. You were aware of your limitations, which were also due to the size of your hands and the strength of your grip, and you knew it would be difficult to maneuver the ball without it falling to the ground with a loud crash.

"I'm not going to be able to throw it, Steff. My fingers don't fit right, and my grip is horrible," you explained, trying to grasp the ball with your right hand, trying to make him understand your point. "Why are you smiling at me like that?"

Steff smiled; he didn't even know why, but he did it anyway.

"If it's so hard for you, I can help you."

His proposal made you smile because, yes, Steff would never openly say he was looking for good times with you, but he would always show interest in you and try to find ways to be physically closer to you. In this case, if he helped you throw the ball, at least he could hold your hand, and your bodies would definitely have to be very close.

"Sounds great."

His smile only grew bigger, victorious, seeing that what he'd suggested had had the desired effect on you. It wasn't long before he was walking beside you, pushing you a little with his body to make you go faster, toward the start of the lane, where you had to throw the ball, which now definitely felt heavier in your hands. You weren't exactly weak, but you definitely weren't used to throwing a ball in this type of game that was much heavier than what you were usually able to grip. When you put your three fingers in the holes, you felt like you might drop it to the ground if it weren't for Steff's hand completely wrapping around yours, covering it and helping you maintain your loose grip, making it a little stronger so you could throw the ball properly.

"You better not fail," Steff said as he gently placed his body behind yours, following your movements as if you were one person or the same mind controlling two different bodies. "Because otherwise, you'll let me down."

"You better shut up, Steff, and pray for a clean sweep, because otherwise, it'll be all your fault," you told him back, looking over your shoulder at him with a small smile that he perfectly understood as playful.

You definitely wouldn't get mad at each other if things went wrong, but you had to admit that you both enjoyed bringing out each other's competitive side. Steff loved winning, and while you kind of didn't care as long as you were having fun, you loved soaking up that spirit the blond had.

With a deep sigh, slowly removing one of your feet to give yourself some momentum as your torso leaned forward, you moved your arm back until the ball reached hip height before letting gravity allow the ball to pick up some speed. Together, you released it to watch it travel, at a relatively slow pace, toward the pins at the other end. You moved apart slightly to see how the throw had been made and how long it would take to reach the other end.

"So slow," Steff murmured, brushing his hair back and letting his blonde locks settle thanks to the hairspray.

Yes, the journey was slow. Too slow, even torturous. But the sparkle in your eyes was intense and wonderful when you saw how your joint throw hit the middle of all the pins, causing them to fall like dominoes, leaving you completely stunned.

"We got them!" you exclaimed excitedly, being the first of the two to react. "Steff, we got it!"

Your happiness was contagious, and in less than a second, before you could realize it, Steff lifted you off the ground so he could celebrate that precise, perfect shot, wrapping your arms around his strong shoulders so you could hold onto him and kiss his lips with the same intensity with which he usually initiated them. That lip lock could have been gentler, perhaps tender, but the emotion of the moment and the excitement made it a little messy and intense, so that your lips didn't even move, but rather stayed stuck together, and very briefly you parted them so you could kiss again; it was a small shower of kisses.

"Wait a minute..." Steff murmured thoughtfully as he momentarily moved his lips from yours to look at you and then at the screen above your heads to see the points you now had thanks to his little help. "You've made a clean sweep, you've taken all the points, cheater."

Surprised, you released your grip, and he released his before walking over to the pile of balls at his disposal, choosing one of a similar weight to the one you'd picked up earlier to look at him. For a moment, you simply stood and watched his tall figure move, thinking he was actually angry, but seeing him turn to smile at you instantly relieved you.

"I helped you; at least I expect a good-luck kiss from my girlfriend."