11, 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭

I told Olive that I wanted to go to the airport alone.

I don't really know why I did it. I told her that Clay was weird about people he didn't know closely seeing his face and that he never let me video call him. That was true--that I'd never seen him before. But he never told me that Olive specifically couldn't come.

The truth is, it's me that doesn't really want Olive there. It sounds selfish and awful, I know. But Clay is my friend. And, I don't know, I feel like I should get to meet him first. Rather than having her fangirling in front of him, I want to have my moment. Does that make me a bad friend? Ugh, it sounds so bad.

I graze my teeth against each other, standing in the arrival hall. I check my watch. He should be getting here soon.

@azzpen

got my dream hoodie out so the big man recognises me

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@dreamwastaken

feeling kinda drowsy. wanna get a coffee?

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@azzpen

WTF STOP IM GOING TO BEAT YOU UP

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@dreamwastaken

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@azzpen

AS SOON AS YOU GET HERE, YOU'RE DEAD

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@dreamwastaken

wanna do a manhunt irl?

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I roll my eyes, searching the list of arrivals for Florida. He's definitely landed, but I still can't find him. Maybe there are really heavy corona precedures that are keeping him back?

My phone vibrates in the pocket of my jeans and I take it out again.

@dreamwastaken

you're such an idiot

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I blink at the photo. Pushing my phone up against my nose, I realise that I'm the one in the hoodie, on the far left.

I flick my head around. Nobody is there, apart from an old man in a wheelchair.

"That can't be him," I mutter to myself, walking in that direction and looking around.

@dreamwastaken

right in front of you

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I glare at the screen.

@azzpen

what are you smoking? there's an elderly man in front of me

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The old man's eyes meet mine--they're vivid green. He smiles at me and waves; I smile back politely, feeling kind of freaked out. Not by the man. By Clay. But if the man is Clay--

"Boo."

"Christ, fuck, bugger, shit," I hiss, jumping back and almost falling over. I turn around to find what must be Clay standing there, amusement flickering across his features, wearing the same hoodie that I am.

I have to look up to see the full of him because this boy is tall. He runs a hand through his messy, dark-blonde hair and I notice how his hazel eyes are flecked with a brighter green around the iris. The tops of his cheeks are kissed with light freckles and, to my surprise, he has a particularly prominent jaw.

What do you know?

He's hot.

"The flight was good, thanks for asking," he says.

Upon hearing this voice, relief coarses through me. This hot guy is definitely Clay. Is it possible that I'm even more attracted to him when he starts speaking?

"Yeah," I say, as not awkwardly as possible. "I'm glad."

"I could really use a coffee though," he remarks, looking at his watch. "It feels like I haven't slept in days. Not that I'm tired."

"You're never tired."

He smiles. It's a boyish, lop-sided smile that sprouts dimples at the corners. "Yeah."

Why the fuck would you hide your face when you look like that?

"Uh, well, the coffee in the airport is shit. I can take you somewhere though, if you're not in a rush to get to your hotel."

He grins again. "Alright, Lewis. Let's go."

@dreamwastaken

be afraid

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...

"It must be weird for you," he remarks all of a sudden, taking a sip of coffee. "Matching the voice to the face."

I study him as he puts the mug down. "Weird isn't the right word," I say. "It's just...surreal."

"Surreal? Come on, I'm no angel."

Sure about that?

I take a fat bite out of my chocolate croissant. The cafe that I took us to is warm and friendly but in a remote area of London that most people don't visit. It's the crown jewel of this area, if you will. I thought that it would be better for us to go somewhere a little more remote, just in case someone spotted me and, well, understood that the good-looking boy in front of me was Clay.

How the hell is this happening?

Like, logistically. I mean, so many flights have been cancelled because of corona. How is it that some random guy manages to fly across continents, impromptu, for some weekend vacation with his friends?

"I didn't know there were so many flights going from Florida to London," I say, still studying him.

He takes another sip of his coffee, smiling slightly. "There aren't."

"Must have been hard getting here. Especially so impromptu."

"I might have taken a private jet."

I choke on my croissant. "You did not."

He grins. "Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't. You'll never know."

Well, I never thought I'd find out what you look like, but here we are.

Swigging the last drops of coffee down his throat, Clay's eyes turn to me, a boyish charm simmering in them. "So," he starts, grinning and exposing those dimples again. "Any arcardes around here?"

...

We sit in one of the booths, having a can of coke each. I love sugary things and Clay loves American things, so it's a win-win. All of a sudden Clay and I are talking about our first kisses (his was in a hot tub), our first dates and even our best pickup lines.

"If Sapnap's the Nick-est guy you know, does that make me the dreamiest?"

"Haha," I say. "Worst pickup line ever. Dreadful."

"Dreadful," he mocks in a British accent.

"So not awesome," I mock in an American one, taking another sip of my coke. "That doesn't even count as a pickup line. You could only use it on me."

"I'd only need to use it on you."

I roll my eyes. "Haha."

He laughs, downing his coke. I peer up at him from my straw, wondering whether the flirtatious atmosphere is actually as ironic as our sense of humours. Is this still a joke to him? I wouldn't blame him if it was. I mean, I played along with it for a long time.

"So," he says. "You're really good at arcade games."

"No. You're just bad. The Minecraft speedrunning world record holder who's shit at real games," I say, smirking at MrDreamWasTakenButIsn'tAllThatGood.

Clay smiles, shaking his head. "Alright, alright, Azcade. You know, you're the only person I know that's one-upped me this many times."

"Being perfect is just part of my charm."

He cocks his head to the side. "Mhm, really?"

"Of course."

"Well, the claw crane machine is just luck."

I snort. "You're only saying that because you couldn't win anything on it."

"No, those things are rigged. Arcades try to steal your money by baiting you into thinking they're easy."

I gasp dramatically. "Clay, apologise to the arcades of the world right now."

"Nope."

There is a pause as I think.

"You know what? I'll show you," I decide, getting up and striding over to the claw crane machine.

"Show me what?" I hear from behind me. He sounds amused, but I'm being dead serious.

I turn around at him and smile. "I'll show you that it's a skilful game and that you're just a sore loser."

I start up the claw crane machine, encouraging Clay to come watch. He walks over, amusement not lost in his small smile, and stands behind me. I can feel his breath on my neck as he leans forward, watching me maneveur the claw like a beast. A few moments later, I've won the stuffed zombie head.

I turn to Clay slowly, a blank look on my face.

He coughs. "Okay. You got lucky. But I know you can't do it twice in a row."

I sigh, turning back to the machine. "Which one do you want?"

"Az, you're not serious," he laughs.

I don't laugh with him.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets. "Uh, the bear. The one that looks like you."

"That one?"

"No, the cute one."

I attempt to hide my blush by focusing on the crane.

"How are you so good at these games anyway?" he mutters.

"My mum used to take me here all the time as a kid. She didn't really care about games but she would always sit by the door and congratulate me. I've always had a soft spot for arcades," I explain, leading the crane towards the stuffed bear.

"Your mom..."

"Yeah, she died a year ago," I explain simply, smiling at him for a moment.

His eyes are unreadable.

I fish the bear out easily, letting it drop into the trap below. I hand it to Clay, feeling somewhat triumphant. "Told you this required skill."

He smiles softly, letting his dimples peek out again. "I'm impressed."

He looks at me like he means it. It's then that I notice the small distance between us, my back against the crane machine and him inches away in front of me. Another surge of butterflies coarses through my chest and I have to force a smile across my face to keep from seeming like a complete fool.

"Glad I achieved my goal."