MINE

"It's mine!"

Trixie rolled her eyes. Once again, Stingy was claiming an object that, most likely, wasn't his. A quick look over to the sports field proved her theory correct. He was clutching a pink tennis racket to his chest, chin jutting out in that stupidly superior way of his.

Smothering a snort, Trixie made her way over to her friend, hollering:

"Hey Stinge, didn't know you liked pink."

"What?" Stingy looked down at the racket in horror. "I don't like pink! Yellow is my colour!"

"Maybe you like pink for a reason?" Trixie winked. Stingy's cheeks hued red as he shook his head, sputtering: "I don't know what you're trying to in-insu-insu… imply, but forget it! This racket is mine!"

"Whatever you say, pinkie."

"I'm going to paint this racket yellow!" He turned his head away from her. "And I'm not Stephanie, I'm Stingy!"

"We all know that." She drawled. "Come on, Stinge, put the racket back. You know she'll only bug you to bring it back if you take it."

Lips twisting to form a frown, Stingy whispered: "But I want it."

"It's not yours though!"

"But it is mine!"

"Urgh, you're so annoying!"

"No, you are!"

Trixie growled and lunged for the racket. He pulled the racket out of reach meaning she had to shift her body weight forward and pull herself up onto her tip-toes.

"Stingy! Give me the racket!"

"No!"

"I'll tell Sportacus!"

He veered away from her, gasping dramatically. "You wouldn't."

"I would and you know that I would!" Trixie suddenly lunged forwards, knocking straight into Stingy. "GIVE ME BACK THAT RACKET!"

Stingy fell back from the momentum, striking the hard ground with his back. The racket was glued to his chest, as it was his, and it stayed there even though his back was riled with pain and the back of his head throbbed. It didn't take long for Trixie to fall forward, her balance all over the place after smacking into her friend. She ended up landing on Stingy and her gasp of relief at her fall being cushioned was consumed by his yells of pain.

As she moved her nose away from his bowtie, Trixie craned her head up so that she was eye to eye with Stingy.

"Are you okay?"

He coughed. "Okay? You nearly knocked me out! I could have got con-concus… I could have been hurt!"

"But you're not, you're fine. You're still the same old Stinge, still the cute boy in yellow-"

"Did you call me cute?"

About to have a go at him for interrupting her, Trixie found herself gaping like a fish, face quickly turning bright red.

"I-I-I… I-"

Stingy's lip curled into a smirk. "I know that I'm handsome. It's alright, you can say it."

Trixie's embarrassment faded as she became annoyed. "You're not that handsome. You're cute, that's all. In fact," She smirked herself. "You're irritating, annoying, so whingey always saying that everything is yours, such a chatterbox, you always have something to say back to me…"

Her smirk slipped into a smile. "Your comebacks are good and you can be funny I guess, and… well… I don't like you, but at the same time, I do…"

Stingy's eyes were wide-blown. He hadn't expected all of that to come out of her mouth! And now she was leaning in, closer and closer, and Stingy was getting to the point of freaking out as she was going to get his suit dirty and being so close together was unnerving.

Trixie kissed him on the lips, but Stingy strangely didn't feel the urge to pull away.