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Miss Inadequate
Author of 19 Stories |
Act 1, Scene 4
The First Date
Too quiet.
Her heart was racing in her chest. Why on Mobius she had agree to something so incredibly risky, unnecessary—why she had let her words take the best of her: agreeing to do something so insanely stupid was beyond her. He hadn't gotten the grades to qualify for the original offer; her virtue and pride had been spared due to that last B. She could recall her eyes watching the paper, relief overcoming her as she saw the letter. There wasn't a smile or a smirk. She didn't gloat on the victory. Looking up at him, into his own eyes, her heart had sunken and all she could've done was sympathize.
It was that reason and that reason alone she had accepted his 'proposal' to take her out. She had agreed to meet him, to let him, the kingdom's unknown savage, run her over the castle gates and into the wild roads of Mobotropolis. There were a number of excuses she could've fabricated to destroy the chances of that night happening: she could've informed the guards of an unforeseen threat; she could've seen to it that some 'unanticipated catastrophe' popped up to prevent her from being available that night, that stupid night.
Of course, her heart had been pulling her in the other direction.
It was because of her sound conscience, built by years of etiquette lessons and classes, that Sally Acorn was holding her end of the bargain civilly. Her hands tightened the strap of her summer dress, the silk fabric nearly clinging to her body. Occasionally, she'd grunt. Occasionally she'd mourn. It was the demise of common sense. It was the forsaking of a perfectly plain evening in the exchange for a fast-paced, speeding night, the hoggish pursuit of her heart consuming her caller. It was the abandonment of any logic, the disowning of her morals and expectations. It was glorified stupidity, her glorified stupidity.
Her fist clenched as a kind breeze would wander through, reawakening any sign of conscious in her. Her heel idly tapped the grass, eyes searching for a clock.
"He should've been here a half an hour ago…" Talking to herself seemed to be somewhat reassuring. Her hands idly retied her hair ribbon, twisting the bow so it was hidden behind her neck—the entire ribbon representing some kind of semblance of a hair-band. All her life, she had been trained to obsess over appearance—all her life she had been taught the importance of hygiene, pretty faces, and proper attire. It was feminine. While she'd never admit it mattered, the tendency was instinctual.
Letting her fingers wandered down an auburn strand, Sally's glance sorrowfully fell on her balcony and the illuminated windows beside it. If her father knew why she was out there, it'd certainly be the end of her—the end of his trust. It pained her to think that she would betray the spirit and esteem he had in her—purposely skip a foreign policy meeting, purposely boycott dinner, feigning some unheard of female illness to go out somewhere with that boy. That idiotic boy whose IQ was less than that of a moron's, that idiotic boy who had tormented her for years, that idiotic boy that was apparently 'smitten' with her (though she called it lust), that idiotic, speed-boasting, egomaniacal boy that wanted to be her husband—the next king of the Acorn Kingdom. Not even in his dreams…
Her left hand had wandered to the seat of the bench during her strand of thoughts. Her fingers drummed the surface in regret. He didn't realize the cold side of reality—he didn't understand that love sought wasn't always love won. He didn't understand how his life, regardless of his supernatural speed, didn't have the tune of a fairy tale and that even if it did (Ancient Walkers forbid) their stories wouldn't be parallel. The more he tried to write the book—the more he tried to win her, the more it pained her to nudge him in that right direction; to ask him to put that energy he had manifested on her (all in the name of love!) on his studies. It had gotten to the point that when examining his character, she couldn't help but feel guilty towards some of the results of it—particularly his clique.
Bunnie Rabbot hadn't been lying when she had said Sonic's popularity had a rags-to-riches story. The heartbreak and humiliation of his second grade (was it second grade? It seemed so much longer) show-and-tell had traumatized him. The event had triggered a discovery: Sonic's first epiphany (aside from the random one when he determined he was going to marry her). In order to succeed, he needed to be liked by other people. He had realized at that young age that pleasing others was far more important than sincerity or brains. In order to win her, he had to please her—and everyone else for that matter.
She was the reason he had drifted away from Bunnie and Rotor. She was the reason he had abandoned his principles; the reason he had set his aims for popularity, ramming through all else that got between him and it. It had been completely and thoroughly her fault and she had neither known nor apologized. It was the agonizing fact that she ripped an innocent boy's character—it was the paining, guilt-stricken feeling in the pit of her stomach that had spoiled her evening—her week. Swallowing hard, Sally sat up straight. Certainly there had to be something more pleasant to think about than that blue renegade of a suitor.
Her foot tapped the ground as she skimmed the garden for guards. None.
The courtyard was one of the least secure areas that evening—with the 'foreign' company, most guards have been sent more towards the front of the castle to supervise. Reporters swarm the entrance, waving their pencils, begging for a word. She had to admire them; there was nothing she loved more than the free press. The freedom of words on a paper—the freedom to communicate the cause to the people. Communication was a powerful tool. Half the conflicts she had between Sonic she blamed on it.
Sonic. Why even when she wasn't trying to think of him; when she was purposefully avoiding his blasé face he still remained the center of her mind? She was plagued. She was so plagued.
The moon still lingered above in the night sky when Sally heard the faint remnants of a sonic boom. Her lament put to an end, she merely eyed him when he stopped. He had a bouquet, hand-picked flowers chivalry's last stand. How typical…
"Let's get this over with, Sonic," she surrendered, her entire distaste with the date's hidden agenda quickly unfolding. The last time she had seen him, they had been arguing. The heat had seemed disappear with the setting sun and the passing days but the issues still hung over them like a storm cloud: the calm before it would once again strike.
He laid the bouquet in her hands calmly, letting out a prolonged yawn. "Glad to see you too, Princess," he sarcastically muttered, legs stretching. "So what's the game plan?"
"Simple," she begun, setting the bouquet down on the bench, "You turn yourself around, march away from this bench and castle, and I deny you your rain check because you were thirty five minutes late." Her eyes rolled. Technically forty…
"Not gonna fly, your highness," he responded, raving the words nonchalantly. She was surprise to see he still had his traditional school uniform on. Grinning ear to ear, her hands gripped the edge of the bench, her legs crossed. She wasn't going anywhere.
"How's summer school, Sonic?" The question started out as a taunt. "You know, your brain may be catching up to your legs—all the processing in this heat must make it so tired …"
He slid beside her, glancing up towards the balcony and then over to her. "Oh no, Sal, it's still got a ways. You see, Sally, I'm not at summer school. He dared to lay an arm behind her. She fought back, scooting down, "All I have to do is just run some papers around the place-"
"How useful," she muttered, eyes rolling, "How many associates did you have to flirt with to get that position?"
"There aren't a lot of females in the industry, Sally," he explained. He sat back, sneaker idly brushing her heel.
Her heel returned the gesture clandestinely, eyes blithely focusing on her hands, "Oh now? It's a shame, Sonic. You really could've used the practice…"
"Hey, babe, I'm a flirting champ," His foot seemed to attack hers, bumping it, "The ladies love me."
"Mmmhmm…only the desperate ones…" Her leg retracted, her head rested against the back of the bench. Finger idly twirling a piece of her hair, she studied his face, eyebrow raised. Oh, he still had that same conceited expression, so full of himself it was lethal….
He only smirked, arm creeping close to her, "Nothing gets more desperate than a princess trapped in a tower…" he coaxed.
"You're wrong. Nothing gets more desperate than a princess trapped in a tower, pursued by a narcissist," She corrected him, heel swinging.
Caught off guard and a little hurt, he stiffened. She had given his ego a good dent, leaving him with no time for a comeback. He said nothing, she said nothing. She had wronged him in her words. Mind reflecting on the years of damage she had already committed, guilt overtook her.
"I'm sorry, Sonic," she quickly apologized, an action unusual for her. The princess stood up, brushing the invisible dust off her dress. The white silk seemed to strike him as more of a night gown…until that moment; he hadn't noticed how unusually low-cut the neckline was….
"Dressing up, Sally?" Sonic tried to smile smugly, following her led. Oh, if she would only lean down…
"I always dress up, Sonic. You see," her voice took on a purr, "It isn't so much for the fashion, but for the weather…"
"You and the weather have a fling huh? Figures. You always have your head up in the clouds, actin' like you're too good for me," He started towards a nearby tree, looking over towards the castle gate. "I think it's time to change that trend, Princess. How about dressin' up for me? I'd make good use out of half of that attire," A wink.
She ignored the gesture, "Sonic, I wouldn't need to dress up for you. I wouldn't waste my time, knowing the only place my clothes would be is on the ground." From the tone of her voice, the hedgehog stood perplexed, unsure where to take the notation of her message. Half of him hoped madly that it had been some form of flirting with him—Sally tended to use reverse psychology to mend people to her ways. The other, rational half realized, however, that with her upbringing, lack of exposure, and overall distaste for his physical advances, it was the last thing she would ever ask from him (though he could suggest one exception). Finding himself evenly divided, however, Sonic felt the need to act on it.
"Is that an invitation, Sal?" He tried to make the words seem casual. Leaning against the tree trunk, he turned to look at her. In a moment it was confirmed: his second theory was right. Stomach sinking, he watched to see her hide a grimace of disgust. Was he really that repulsive?
Sally quickly pulled a straight face, raised an eyebrow, and gave him a sincere little smirk. There was something about her lips when she did it: it was the genuine Princess Sally smile of sarcasm: the 'you're kidding me' of royalty. "Only in your dreams, Sonic Hedgehog"
The words shattered any remnant of confidence.
The princess leaned up against the tree opposite of him, her eyes narrowed. She had been right on with the accusation—from what Bunnie had said, the hedgehog had never been steady with anyone. Why he wanted his only romantic experiences to be with her—why he preserved his sexual state for her was beyond her comprehension. There were theories—there were some ideas. Perhaps he wanted her to be comfortable—he wanted her to believe he had morals and drive, traits uncommon to the average teenage boy. The point was defeated. With the amount of sexual innuendos they partook in, he was the average teenage boy, the above-average pervert.
Other days she would humor herself with the idea that he truly believed, deep down in that little lustful heart of his that she was the one. When they first gazed into each others' eyes at that humble five years (or was it younger?) years of age—when she glared at him in annoyance because he yanked her hair, when she deemed him the biggest moron on Mobius and unworthy of being her prestigious playmate, maybe then it struck him that she was the only one he could stomach—the only girl with enough sass to keep him entertained. Perhaps, in his own little warped way, it was his way of purposely defying her—a way to rub in her face that he was in fact the most irresistible man on Mobius. Not even she could deny his charm…
She studied her hand, his eyes studied her. "C'mon, Princess. Let's go. I've got a nice evening lined up for us…" He gave up the battle of words, offering his hand.
With only a gaze his way, she sighed. "Alright, Sonic. I need to be back here by ten, if not earlier, right back here. No one can know about tonight—no one can see us. I don't want to go anywhere anyone'll recognize me…"
"Chill, Princess. We're juicing to some place dark, crowded, and cool. No one's gonna see us. I'm not goin' anywhere until you relax though. Take a deep breath. No rush. We only have until ten," He sneered, arms crossed.
"Uh-huh…let me make you a bargain, Sonic…" She stepped towards him, taking his chin in her hand, directing it towards her. "If by any chance tonight, in the midst of whatever we're doing, you happen to woo me over you can have until eleven." At the offer, Sonic's leer returned.
"Consider it done…"
A laugh, "Mmmhmm. Sonic, there hasn't been a suitor that has lasted at this castle…." His chin was released, she shook her head. "I wouldn't even try…"
"We'll see how long I'll last, Princess. FYI, I'm your only way home. Hold tight, gorgeous!" She nearly gagged at the fluff—at the tags. In the midst of this activity, she felt herself lifted up. Her eyes bolted open as she felt the only thing beneath her feet air.
"Sonic Hedgehog!" She hushed her voice, searching for a guard, "What's the meaning of this?"
"Thought I'd bump up security…" She felt his hand lift her legs, another supported her lower back—venturing to her bottom. It took her a moment to process—it took her a moment to relieve herself of the initial shock: He was carrying her bridal style, and he seemed to like it.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, Sally's brow crossed. "Humor me, handsome," she scoffed. The silk of her dress brushed against his elbow, she could tell he was enjoying the physicality. She pulled in closer purposely, face dangerously close to his. She could nearly hear his heart thumping in his chest; that heart his poor excuse for his source of undying (ever-vying), eternal (nocturnal), pure (no concur…) love.
"I'll take it slow, Sally…" The words left his lips tauntingly, as if to cover the hurt. She had insulted him, she had relegated him. To her, he was nothing. To him, she was the world and everything on it. His legs started slowly, he took off cautiously. Speed gained gradually, a breeze came up and lifted her hair. Not a word was passed between them; there was no interaction. It was a tragic beginning to the evening of his dreams.
Sally's grip remained tight; she clung to him. It was everything she remembered; every twisted stomach feeling of her childhood crawling back. Her mouth hung open; she cringed as he finally reached top speed. There went her modest dinner, quickly trying to find a way up her throat. After years of abstaining from his mass speed, the tendency she was able to control before was let loose. Her intestines were a blender, and thinking of each individual item on her plate, the various hors d'oeuvres, the main course that were humbly digesting herself, she diagnosed her brain wasn't the only part of her body sick. Thank Mobius she had wavered the dessert.
Her mind was her only weapon with his toxic ride. Over and over she'd remind herself of the fact she was fine, a mild brainwashing. She had indeed been on one of these rides before; they weren't endless, they would stop soon. It would be over forever. She would never have to take the illogical option again. Never again would she travel with that ragamuffin of a hedgehog. She'd walk home than partake in another ride on that sex-driven rollercoaster.
Eternity seemed to rage on as he continued running. He had assumed the role of the transportation—he was stone, deadpan, not a word of comfort was said. He was no longer a hedgehog but rather a set of wheels. Her embrace loosened from his neck at the revelation, her hands fell to her lap as she glanced down. Good Mobius, look at them go! She couldn't pick out a limb, all she saw was the outline of a sphere—of a circle going round and round and round…
"Hold on to me, Sal!" A hoarse voice shouted at her as he struggled to keep her in his arms over a bump. A speed-bump? She looked over for it, but by the time she had thought to notice, it was long gone.
"Sal, hold on to me!" The words rung again.
She ignored him, half purposely, eyes still glued to the swirl of lights they were leaving behind them. They were in the city. They were in the city. Wouldn't someone? Well, yes, someone would see the blur. They'd never be able to pick her out though. Oh nooo…hopefully her brown wasn't showing.
"SALLY!"
She aversely rewrapped his arms around him, head falling. Her hair swept up, her bangs left her forehead. Her eyes glanced down watching the dirt of the road sweep up. Why was he-
That raging moron! What kind of fool would run like that in the streets?
"You know, they provide sidewalks for a reason, Sonic Hedgehog!"
He'd be the death of her, she was sure. 'Two youths die at the mach 1'; 'Joyride with speed-demon kills heir': Two city goers died today at Park Ave. Among them was heir Princess Sally Alicia Acorn. The second victim, Maurice Hedgehog, was said to be travelling at the mach 1, the princess in toll. King and Sir Charles Hedgehog devastated.
The thoughts swirled around her head, providing too vivid an image of her potential death. Grunting, the princess shut her eyes, willfully clinging to her escort. The words she had said earlier, the anger that was all consuming, left miles behind in the wind.
The band warmed up on the platform, the pairs happily settled on spread blankets. Rushing into the park, Sonic Hedgehog stopped at yet another one. Laid in the corner, the navy blanket boast a basket on the far left, a flashlight laying beside it, should the need for the light arise. He quickly laid down his load, the princess who had been anticipating a quick end to the ride so much before almost in remorse it was over. There was something settling about his speed once she adjusted to it. With the wind in her hair, all the troubles that had given foundation to her world seemed to left from under her. In those few moments, arms attached to the boy as if he was a barrier between life and death, Sally Acorn felt free, frighteningly free.
The adjustment between this newfound freedom and the return of reality rendered her.
Her breath came rugged as she tried to settle. The world hazed, her mind slowly returned to her. Lightheaded, she collapsed into a sitting position, head falling. She felt him join her, his arms pulling her against him.
"Your highness…"
"Sally, Sonic, please call me Sally…" she grumbled the words, her eyes shutting.
"Sal…" He lifted her head up, watching her eyes. "Well? What'd you think?"
"Sonic Hedgehog, if I was any kind of law officer, I'd see to it you never set your foot on the road again!"
"Hey, I've done it for ages and they never seemed to mind…"
"Never seemed to mind! Do you know what kind of-of hazardous environment you put me in? It's not safe to be travelling that fast, Sonic! It's-it's against the law of physics!" Trying to feign some kind of excuse to block her pleasure, Sally shook her head, turning away. "Besides, Sonic," Her tone lowered, taking on a cajoling murmur, "There's a reason I stopped using you when I was six…"
"Yeah, your dad stopped you!" Sonic rolled his eyes, guiding her closer to him. The princess merely pulled back, shaking her head.
"My father never made me do anything. I'm a woman of my own will." A prideful swank. Sally turned away, carefully repositioning herself so her eyes were on the lit stage, the instruments tuning to harmonic notes; rather than on his eyes, the same eyes that were trying so frenetically to pull her in, to love her.
"That's what you want to think," he rebelled, "They have you on strings, Sal!" His hands reached for her shoulders, trying to redirect her gaze, but she refused to cooperate.
"You're on strings, Sonic." She said nothing more, pulling completely away from him. The strands of his unrequited love made him enough of a marionette. There was no reason for her to further that effect.
To the right of her, she could hear the hedgehog chewing, his obnoxious teeth clenching down on whatever was in the far-end basket. The sound was a bit of a déjà vu, so many years ago, at those random chili dog stands, his teeth would make the same noise biting into the hot dog. Obviously his table manners hadn't improved within the time she left him…
"You know," Her voice came dry, "I'd prefer you didn't eat that…that uhh…that junk. I don't admire chili dog, breath, Hedgehog." Her hand slid down the blanket, her lips held back a yawn. "I-I mean, if anything happens later…"
"What do you think is going to happen?" He raised an eyebrow, setting the item down. He was looking at her again; looking at the frame of her body hidden by that dress.
She noticed. Forcing herself to straighten up, Sally sat up straight. The all-consuming fatigue from only moments before had vanished. "Nothing," she quickly redressed herself, running a hand through her hair to neaten up. Her eyes shut, Sally's attempt to look dispassionate, "Nothing is going to happen later. I'm only offering it as a precaution."
The boy sighed, setting the chili dog aside. A moment of silence passed between them before he scooted over to her, looking up into her sapphire eyes. Legs crossing, Sonic stretched, "So what now?"
Her glance passed him, returning the stage, "What happened to having the evening planned, Sonic?" Her sarcasm seemed to return.
"I gave it up when I realized it'd never win you."
Their conversation ended.
What seemed to be years passed by as the band continued their evening line-up. The softer the melody became, the more blended the different instrument groups became, the more Sally found her mind travelling elsewhere, pondering the what-ifs and what-could've-beens of their evening.
Perhaps, in some parallel universe, he would've been a war hero, boasting medals and badges to woo her. He would march in the castle, uniform in tact, bow to her, and escort her to the courtyard. She could wander through the garden, her eyes narrowed. There was something untrusting about a person of that nature: the honors were further proof that they were vain, full of themselves; that they had a more violent personality. She could imagine him trying to be her knight in shining armor, trying to lead her in that 'ride in the sunset', their bon voyage.
Or perhaps, in some other universe, he would've been an artist, a free-thinking industry driven to release her from her oppressed environment. He would be the symbol of independence, carrying a notebook and pencil, jotting poems about her. He would live his life unrestrained, his path chosen by the wind. She would eye him, a black beret apparent (at least in her image), knowing the biggest flaw about him was the fact he would never be able to live in her society. He would never be able to tolerate rules. Her rules would shatter everything about him. She imagined their emotional adieu, tried to plan the words, tried to conjure some way they'd work. Oh, but they wouldn't…
There could've been so much more to their date, something so much more universal, but there wasn't anything to it. There couldn't be. He wasn't her knight or artist. He wasn't chivalrous, he wasn't completely unbounded. He was caged; they were both caged. They were in caged by their age, circumstance, class; every aspect about them was another bar to their jail.
Her reveries were broke by the sounds of snores beside her. An arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her as if it was the first and only time it could. Her date slept, curling up into a near ball of blue beside her. The princess looked with remorse. Hormones had destroyed him; hormones had completely obliterated his common sense. Clearly that was the only reason he was taking pleasure from having something that didn't seem quite proper to have.
It was a funny story to her; it was funny to think they could possibly be friends. Years had torn them apart. Time had shattered anything they had had before. To him, she was the past and he held on to her like a child, unable to let go because he had nothing else to go to. It pained her to think of the fact of an epiphany; it pained her to think of the idea as mere fact. It was her too.
After all the innuendos, remarks; all the sneers and whistles the lust-driven hedgehog did have a heart; they both had a heart. He and she were two of a kind: two of the same circumstance, dealing with the same problems. There was the change in authority, the need for maturity, increased responsibility, the fact they were took on the jobs and labors of adults yet were regarded by society as children. It was full-blown adolescence, and in that regard, she couldn't blame him from clinging to her, for her instinctually returning the gesture. There was no need to reprimand herself for taking asylum from his embrace.
He wasn't a stranger. Sonic was the same boy she known ten years ago. He was the same base, the same core in character. Only his exterior had changed.
Words were proof, his childish whims and proposals evidence. He wanted to be her consort. He wanted to be officially regarded as her boyfriend, fiancée, husband, "soulmate". He wanted her to see their connection; he wanted all of Mobius to see their chemistry and passion.
Circumstance however, dealt a roadblock. He simply couldn't.
He couldn't be her suitor. He couldn't be her match. Mobius would die with a king like him. The planet would never last with his rule. He'd ruin foreign relations, economy—he'd pass the most obscene legislature. Chili Dog Day? National Chili Dog Day? Please!
She couldn't imagine him in that spot—she couldn't imagine him truly changing the world or herself truly tearing away his future from him. The guilt would never leave her; it would only consume her. But no more! Breathing in, coming back to reality, Sally caught a glimpse of him curled up against her.
"Aw no, Princess, not tonight…" The words were slurred, his body turning away. She could tell, regardless of the circumstance, he was dreaming of her. He was always dreaming of her.
Leaning down, the princess scooted towards him. Her mood needed some lifting; she wasn't thinking like herself. Mind already scheming, her chin leaned up, lips nearing his ear. She'd humor him. Two could play at his game.
Examining the two blankets beside her (the couples were far too absorbed by the music to notice anything was afoot), Sally escorted her attention back to her date, smirking, "Yeees, Sonic," An airy whisper, "Tonight. Tonight's the night…" She held back a chuckle. If he picked up on that and believed it, he was really too gullible…
"You're not ready…" He shuffled about in his slumber, legs restless. Her smile widened.
"Noo, I've been ready for sooo long…" she exaggerated the words, a quick peek at the other couples. Nothing. The music raged on.
"You-You sure, Princess?" He shuffled in his sleep once more, legs sliding towards her.
"As sure as I could ever be," The reply came instantaneous, Sally satisfied. At least it was better entertainment.
"Touch me…" The request took her off guard. Shaking her head, the girl rolled her eyes. How absolutely typical. What might satisfy him? An elbow nudge? The raging pervert could make even the brush of shoulders sexual in his little head. "Really touch me, Sally…"
The stars shone above her, Sally's game faltering. Touching him would only reinforce his masculine behavior. Surely (science had proved similar things to this) the only way to break a habit was the break indulgence. Oh no, touching him would only give him the point, only give his dreams the image of the tap being something more. She'd clean it up. She'd put the game's power back in her hands.
"That's not uhh…necessary, Sonic," An indifferent reply. Slowly pulling away from him, Sonic's hands broke their embrace, falling flat on the blanket. She lay further away from him, repositioning herself so she was staring back up at the sky, listening to the band.
There was a twist of guilt in her; a bit of an indescribable feeling building at the pit of her stomach. The idea of really touching him, fictional or not, was enough to drive her mad. Her hormones (it was hormones, she couldn't naturally be attracted to the idea of erotically touching the hedgehog) urged her forward, her mind pulled back. No. No. She couldn't, it was so below her. Discomfort clouded over her, leaving her penitent of even agreeing to the idea of the evening.
And as if Fate had something against her itself, Sonic's dream didn't end with her nippy reply.
"Don't be afraid, Sal. Just let go…there's…mmm…there's only you and me." He was trying to pull her back in, trying to rationalize that whatever she may do was actually alright. She wasn't falling for it. He may be a sex-slimball, but she wasn't. She was clean. She was above him. Committing herself to anything along those lines was only stooping to his level.
"Only you and me…" She repeated. Her voice had the confidence it had had before; her fast-acting brain had been put to a halt. How was she supposed to reply? The situation was beyond her experience and reading: beyond her social comprehension. There was no standard 'norm' for her age group; no, she was far too young to respond in the fashion he wanted, the fashion of an adult—a married, or at least emotionally mature and devoted adult. "I uhh…" Mind searching for a reply, she crawled closer, hand reluctantly brushing his cheek. It was some contact, "Sonic, let's take things slower. I like taking things a 'Sally second' at a time, if you know what I'm implying…" An attempted purr in his ears. A Sally second. She pushed herself away, her brain already pondering the consequences of her racy word choice. A Sally second. He had corrupted her. His slang had corrupted her perfect logic. That last phrase had been more suggestive than she intended; the last phrase had implied there was something actually between that. It was that same tone that had put her in that mess in the first place.
She needed a distraction, something to clean her own mind. Instinct led her to the light of the stage, the band nearly falling asleep to their own work. The conductor hardly looked moved conducting them. The enthuse they had during the beginning of the evening (they had, hadn't they?) had completely disappeared in the night air. The couples watching didn't seem to notice; in fact, it was as if they were playing for no reason. The park's guests were leaning against each other, arms securing the other on their own little blanket of property. It was as if the world didn't exist to them; as if they had rendered all sense of reality to the intangible forces of love and she, mature, wise, rational was the only one in the park who hadn't; the only person who noticed the squeaks of the winds, the misplaced beats of the percussion, the fact the music was dying and deserved some kind of eulogy or revitalization.
The hedgehog shifted slightly in his slumber, most likely from her touch, his face turning towards her sitting body, "If you're implyin' what I think you're implyin', it's gonna be one…way past cool evenin'!" His voice became muffled as he rolled towards her on the blanket. He nearly collided into her thigh before her legs moved her off the quilt and into the grass.
The gears in her head, however, began to move again. There was something about the damp grass, the dew her dry fur that reawakened her senses. "Sally seconds go like this, Sonic…" She explained, forcing herself to whisper in his ear once again. "You allow me a second to mentally prepare, let me uhh…place my hands on you…" Her hands gripped his shoulders, "Bring my face closer to you," Her words became nearly breathless, eyelids closing, "Say the words you're longing to hear…" Her companion looked as if he was panting; something told her he was nearly awake. "I love you, Sonic…"
"Sally…" Her name left his lips, his hands suddenly reaching out to her sides; to feel her waist, to feel what might finally be his. The advance was interrupted.
"And then mmm…" The words slowly became a coherent phrase, "And then the finale…" Silence between them. Her smirk reappeared, "A nice," Her eyes spotted the chili dog, the item nearly horizontal to his face, "Rough," She established her aim, tried to determine the force needed, "Push to reality!" Her hands' soft touch left, replaced by a brusque shove. The physics were flawless, with the release he rolled away from her, nose landing in the chili dog before his snoozing body led him into the cold grass.
Sally merely straightened the blanket, smoothing out the edges before she sat back on it.
The outcome left her with a sense of pride, amusement. The plan had worked. Sonic's face was drenched with chili, he returned beside her awake. From the edge of the grass, his head had lifted; his hand had gripped the bun of the hot dog before he tossed it aside, a deadpan expression meeting her eyes. She held back her natural reaction, keep an insipid expression.
"And that's a Sally second, Sonic. Good morning, Maurice," Her left hand offered a napkin. She struggled to keep her voice monotone, "The chili isn't flattering."
He gripped the token, looking away. "Good morning, Princess." He wiped his eyes and cheeks, bitterly setting the cloth back in his basket.
With a yawn, Sally laid down on the blanket, eyes shutting in contemplation. That hopefully broke any more of his advances. That hopefully climaxed his interest. "I suppose that's the end of your plans, isn't it?"
The boy joined her, saying nothing. Within a minute of silence, her conscious had returned. Her Sally second had been a bit vitriolic; her actions had been a little sadistic. The look in the other couples eyes when they saw his chili drenched face hadn't been one of laughter, but one of regret. Heart aching, she reminisced on the circumstance, their past, his ambitions. When they weren't in foreplay, when they weren't constantly in their little game of wits, she did see something in him. There was a bit of genuine innocence, the plague of first love that drove her crazy. She was the cause of his mass affection, his tragic flaw: whenever he directed those three words to her, assured her of his plans to woo and marry her, whenever he threw a rock at her window, she felt it.
She couldn't help but sympathize for driven player that just couldn't win.
Before she could make a mental objection, her hand reached for his, squeezing it softly. "It uhh…it was a valiant effort, Sonic. Very admirable…" She laid the words softly and honesty, the action something she had done very rarely that night.
He, however, seemed unresponsive, laying flat. His mind was somewhere else, "Look, Sal, you don't have to pretend. I can take a hint…"
"Sonic, I didn't agree to tonight to humiliate you," It was half a lie, but she fought to make it seem like the truth. She wanted it to be the truth.
"Well, that's a pleasant surprise!" The change in tone nearly shocked her, "Why did you agree to tonight anyway, Sal? You obviously don't wanna be here with me. I know when a girl's not into me and I know you ain't. Well, that's fine. What's it matter if I really love you, huh? You can just jump into the arms of some rich suitor for all I care!" His arms crossed and he sat up, turning away.
Apathy. Sally's arms crossed, "I told you why I agreed to tonight. I gave you my word and now I'm delivering on it."
"You don't want to even try, d'ya?" Sonic turned, glaring at her, "I'm tryin' to make things romantic, but you're just a sore sport—not even that. You're afraid. Hey, world, Sally Acorn might just actually be doing something normal for once…you know, not studying, and she might be with someone that loves her, wants her, is willin' to take care of her and what does she do? She ruins every part of my evening, plays with my feelings, just rips my heart out and stomps on it!" An exaggerated phrase. His voice choked, his eyes almost welled with the newfound energy discovered in the message.
"I never-" Her objection was cut.
"Don't even try, Sal. Don't even try to defend yourself. You know, I've loved you for years now. Genuinely loved you, dreamed of you, dreamed of really being with you…"
"…physically. I heard your little dream, Sonic…"
His brow furrowed in annoyance; his eyes piercing with pain, "Yeah, you heard it, you were the one makin' fun of it, tryin' to control it. I felt your touch and as asleep as I looked, I was really half awake at that point. I thought 'Hey, maybe Sal might really be warming up to me. Maybe she just can't say her feelings to my face'…but no. You push me. You move away from me. You're scared of me."
"I-I am not! Don't tell me what I am, Sonic Hedgehog! I have no reason to be scared of you…" The composure she had kept so easily throughout the rest of the evening snapped. That was the last straw. Her body leaned up; her eyes perused him and his smug features. How dare he accuse her of doing something when he didn't know her? How dare he act as if he knew her, as if he could see through her when he saw nothing? He disconcerted her, he disrupted her peace, ended her patience. He wasn't going down without a fight.
"You're terrified…and you know why? Because I think you might actually like me back." He bragged his point exultantly. Oh, his conceit was disgusting, pouring over him as if it was some kind of rain shower—acid rain or some other pollutant, some kind of gooey gloss.
"Don't assume anything," The words were stern, authoritative. The hedgehog, however, shrugged them off.
"Why assume? Everythin' says it. I know you love me and I know you're holding back. I don't think you've ever been kissed or held, Sal. What'd you think I'm going to do? Corrupt you?"
"With your fantasies, I wouldn't be surprised. You've already started!" Her eyes narrowed, her arms fell on to the blanket, squeezing the fabric. It was some kind of energy release.
"FYI, Sal, I can control those feelings. I know a no when it's no and I know I'm gonna have to wait. I know what those kinda things mean to you and there's no way I'm gonna rob you of them without your unanimous, unwaverin', unchangin' approval."
"Well, you-you-Sonic Hedgehog, you-you'll never-" Nothing. She had nothing. The anger subsided, fervent moment died. She couldn't lie on the battlefield like that.
"You can't even say it. Look at me, Sally," His hands gripped her face, directing it to him. "Me and you? We're two in the same. It's not like I've been all over Mobius, grabbing girls and makin' out with them just for the experience. You know I'm the kinda guy it has to mean more to. And yeah, a kiss is just a kiss, they can all shrug it off all they want. You can shrug it off all you want and pretend you don't care about it, but I know you do. Look, it's okay to be scared of it, but let me assure you, Princess Acorn, we can go through all that stuff—all that drama together. You're not gonna lose me because you're not an expert at frenchin' or whatever. I'm not that shallow. But you've gotta believe me when I say I've been planning my whole life around this ever since I was five. I'm not gonna let you go that easy. Not when you really care. Just look me in the eyes and say you don't feel something. Say there's nothing different about me. Say there's nothing there. I bet you can't…"
"I can easy."
"Fine, go on ahead. You say it, I'll take you home. How about that? I'll never show up again. No more Maurice. No more Hedgehog. No more valentine, letters, or visits. I'll let you go if it's what you want. But I won't if there's any doubt in your mind, Sal, any questions, regrets, guilt. I know you and I know even you couldn't deliberately tell me a lie when I want the truth. But go ahead, say it. We've got all night."
"Fine. I don't care for…" Her eyes met his, staring in. Her heart ache in that moment, the desperation and longing of first love reflected in his emerald orbs. She could see it; she could it in the depth of his iris, in the curve of his frown. She was doing massive damage: his heart seemed to break at every word and syllable pronounced.
Had it been anyone else, anyone without his past, not in his circumstance, she would've been able to say it. She could hear the words leaving her lips so easily, declaring the message. There was something utterly different about him though. After all the teasing, denying—after all the cruel thoughts and jokes, his affections had had some effect on her. The words, what had been said, were tearing her apart too. Her words quivered, "I don't love…" But the lie was for the good of the people. It was for the good of her future. She couldn't put her love into some stranger's hand. She didn't trust him. She couldn't trust anyone with something as vulnerable as her heart.
But was the rewarding of that trust completely out of her hands?
The longer she watched him, the closer she came to giving him his greatest let down, the more she began to hesitate, doubt. She was fighting to say something that'd hurt both of them. If no one was benefiting, it was stupid. It was absolutely stupid. "I…" Sally forced the angst to pass, "I can't seriously say it to you, Sonic. If I did, I'd be lying."
His expression softened and he loosened slightly, his arms quietly ushering her against him. "Somehow I didn't think you could either, Sal…" His fingers stroked her auburn hair, his other hand caressing her back. "Uhh…you wanna just go back early?"
The princess looked over, her face softening. She had done her deed. She had given him what he wanted and after implying something so damaging to herself, it was only courtesy she finally let her selfish whims take over. Eyes making contact, Sally attempted to create the illusion that she was confident; that what she said earlier had held no effect on her. It failed. "I'd appreciate that, Sonic," Weak, honest words replaced her usual arrogant, "I really would."
Contrary to their date.
Every minute stretched between them seemed longer than the last. On several occasions Sally had opened her mouth to speak, to say the words formed somewhat coherently in her brain, but nothing left her lips. When they arrived in the courtyard, when he set her down by the bench where she had waited so impatiently for him earlier, there were no words of good-bye, no spark of romance or truly enlightening moment to end their evening. She sat down, her hand patting the seat beside her: a motion for him to join her.
Five minutes would fly past until one of them said something. The situation between them was completely awkward, drawn out. He wrapped an arm around her, she looked over at him. He drew her closer to him, she sat stiffen, mouth opening. There was something foreign about his gestures; something somewhat bizarre in what could be considered a common act. Glancing up at the stars, she sighed. It was time to speak. "I suppose uhh…I suppose I should thank you," Her confidence slowly returned, despite her unusual position, "I enjoyed myself. It was a nice evening. Thank you for the ride, Sonic."
"Nothing else you need to say, Sal?" His reply came instantaneous. Raising an eyebrow, she quietly pulled away from him, crossing her legs.
"No," she remarked, the stars nearly swarming above her, "Not that I can think of."
The hedgehog frowned, his vacant arm pulling her back, "Three little words?" A pleading glance.
"Three little words…" Repetition.
Ignoring the fact his arm was still around her, Sally sat back, fingers drumming the seat of the bench. Physicality hadn't been a regular indulgence in her childhood. She hadn't been taught to respond to it. Her heart didn't warm in his arms; her mind didn't race with his eyes on her. Shaking her head, she examined her options. A smirk, "I don't see why I should when I've already made them so obvious."
"I wanna hear 'em…" It was an almost childish whine. Sonic leaned back, his own legs crossing, "It's not everyday a girl like you admits you love a guy like me."
"Uh-huh, and today isn't going to be that day either," With a nonchalant wave of her hand, she resumed her finger drumming, "They're the last thing you're going to hear from me, Hedgehog, the last thing."
"Why?" She had set herself up for that question. She had just set herself up for it.
"Why?" Why did he have to ask? How many times had she told him 'why'? Twenty? Thirty? Her voice shook, her mind tried to be calm. "Because," she nearly snubbed, raising her finger to emphasize her point, "If I say them you'll get it into your thick little head we have a relationship!" She cleared her throat, attempting to clarify her point, "I don't know why you—you and all Mobotropolis's teenagers think that automatically if two people feel the same way about each other, they have a relationship. If I say I love you, I have to be yours. I'm not going to be bound by that rule, Sonic Hedgehog!"
He chuckled. There was something about the way she said those words; the way she made it a last minute defense that made it that amusing. Watching the gesture, however, her anger scorned, her composure vanished.
"Don't you-don't you laugh at me, Maurice! I know what you think and know that's what you want and I'm not going to fall in that trap! I have a future ahead of me. I'll be ruling with someone of noble linage. It's never been my choice and it's never been in my control, and it'll never be in yours. I thought after the twentieth time I told you that, your incompetent little mind would have gripped it!"
"Hey, hey!" He looked up, arm rising in protest, "Look, Sal, times are changin' and what's gonna happen is gonna happen. I love you 'n I don't care what stands between me. 'Ya think with my speed I ever let anything stand between me and what I want? No. I just go."
Her mouth opened slightly, her eyes widened. It all made perfect sense. "Is-Is that all I am, Sonic?" Shock, "What you want? What your pervert fantasies want?" She tried to calm down, she tried to be logical. "I'm more than just hands. I'll let you know, Maurice, I've never even thought of having you in that context. It's never been about the physicality. It's about what's in here…" She pointed to his heart, eyes narrowing. "If you have one. I love you because of the man you've become in there, not the man you've become out here."
"So you said it…" He smiled slightly.
"Said what?"
"You said you loved me."
"I-no. It's platonic, Sonic, it's platonic, completely plat-" Her words were cut off. Sonic grabbed her and brought her against her. His hands transverse her sides, his lips pressed against her own. It was a spontaneous but needed: anything to convince her, anything to get the girl he saw as his soulmate to shut up. He held her close to him, trying to provide the passion her life had been so deprived of. His lips tried to act as an enchanter: they tried to lure hers in to return the gesture.
And she did.
At first Sally was hesitant, nearly trembling at the sudden shift in direction. It was as if he was trying to win her over in a way his words couldn't. Moments passed, she was his arena, she was under his spell, she was truly with him and the two were mutually in control.
She pulled back a minute later, breathless.
"Still convinced it should only be platonic now, your highness?" His voice was almost taunting. Rendered, Sally looked over.
"That was…nice, Sonic."
"Yeah..." His eyes held an earnest gleam in them. "I uhh…I'm sorry, Sal. I'm sorry I took you off guard like that, but I just had to…y-you know, you just needed to-"
"Shhh…" She placed a finger on his lips, looking around. "I know Sonic, I know. I've been difficult—I have to be. You need to understand why though…" Her voice lowered to a whisper, "Why we can't necessarily be together. It'll be so hard, Maurice—so much comes with it. I could never ask you to sacrifice your future for me. It isn't right. I want you to be happy...as a friend, Sonic…"
"Sally…"
"Mmm…Maurice, please. Tonight was nice and I…I'd like to see you again. You know, I uhh…I care a lot about you…and it's going to be pre-pretending nothing's going on between us but…uhh…but we need to try."
"What'd you mean, Sal?"
"What I mean is uhh…this relationship you've been talking about…we can give it a trial run. Nothing too above platonic physically, Sonic, you need to understand I have morals and-"
"I've gotcha loud and clear, Princess! So how'd you like being called Mrs. Sonic Hedgehog?"
"You'll have to give me a rain check for this title. I'm not interested."
"Alright, alright, let me rephrase that. Sonic Hedgehog's girlfriend?"
"Girlfriend? Sonic, I've always been your girlfriend. I think you've forgotten what I am…"
"Yeah, yeah, so I take it I've gotta keep hush about this?"
"Your brain's finally working. Not a word, understand?"
"Yeah, yeah, I understand, Sal. I won't tell a soul. Hedgehog's honor." A wink.
"Rrrright…" She muttered, shaking her head and getting up, "It's late…I-I really need to go up. I suppose I owe you an apology for the way I was behaved. I am sorry." One last look at him, "Oh, and Maurice," Her voice took on that mysterious tone, that soft, adoring slur she used on so many occasions, "You really are charming when you try." She kissed his cheek pleasantly before turning to go. "Good night."
She left leaving darkness, Sonic sitting silently until she had completely vanished in the night. His heart leapt for joy, it beat fast and rapidly. She was really his. Sally Acorn, the far most stubborn girl he knew had really admitted to loving him and was his girlfriend. He got up, walking happily. No words could comprise his feelings, the light feeling in his stomach, the smile on his face. So far, but so far to go…
"I can help you, Hedgehog," A mysterious voice seemed to appear out of no where. Sonic turned behind him, seeing a large silhouette approaching him. "I can give you and the princess a future…but you'll have to help me first."
All about the theater, life resumed, people bustling about. It was finally intermission. Center row, the fox sat in his seat, quietly clutching his stomach. Waves of disgust had attacked his intestines during the entire scene; he had never felt more sick in his life. Sonic was impossibly lovesick; Sally was impossibly obstinate. Just watching him take her and kiss her the way he did was beyond any contraction of influenza. He felt the contents of his dinner (the insisted-broccoli Sally had so forcefully shoved down him) swirl about, begging to travel up his throat and come out.
What kind of script was this? Who wrote it? Why'd they have to be in love? Who was the voice? Why didn't they end on a cliff hanger? Where was the valiant sacrifice? Where were the sword scenes and weapons? The theater was playing a GIRL piece!
And only he could revive it. As people left the theater, the fox waited patiently for one of the stage hands to give him a script. Certainly now would be the time to introduce him. He was a necessary. Maybe he was the voice, saying he could help Sonic and Sally by bringing them together, by helping them talk to each other and see each other even when time didn't permit. Maybe he'd help keep them alive when they were arguing: maybe he'd encourage they'd 'kiss and make-up' so they weren't always mad at each other. He did it in real life!
Time seemed to soar by, but no one came. His seat neighbors coughed, the female one dropping her handkerchief in the process. The man beside him leaned to pick it up and offer it to her but she simply scuffed at him. "How dare he?" she muttered, getting up and leaving self-righteously.
Tails frowned. It had been a generous enough gesture. Why were women like that lady and Aunt Sally so hard to understand? Getting up, he surrendered the question, starting out the side doors into the hall. He needed some fresh air. He was going to make the most of this intermission.
