2Part 3! Thanks to everyone who's given me feedback on this :) it's been fun to have something to play with that isn't as heavy as Bloodline.
Again, Kurda's thoughts and opinions on the other characters do not necessarily reflect my own. Except Tanish. We hate Tanish.
The only times Kurda ever studied in the kitchen were when the Royal Pains had evening football practice. Normally when he sees headlights and hears a vehicle approach, he immediately retreats to his room. But Mika's stupid Escalade wasn't as loud as Arrow's stupid truck or Vancha's stupid Jeep. And it was Mika's turn to drive that night. Plus Kurda was so wrapped up in the textbook paragraph he was trying to decode, he didn't notice they were home until they materialized in the kitchen with all the stealth of a pipe bomb and the grace of several gorillas.
Kurda had cooked himself a frozen pizza. There were two pieces left. He was full, but he still rolled his eyes as they began to squabble over the two remaining pieces without so much as asking if Kurda was finished.
"Yes, please help yourself!" Kurda deadpanned, without taking his eyes off his textbook. "What's mine is yours."
"Thanks, Nerda!" Said Vancha appreciatively through a mournful of pizza, clearly missing the sarcasm. Meanwhile, Arrow had prevailed over Mika in the battle for the other slice.
"Whatever. I'm ordering Domino's." Said Mika, pulling out his phone.
"Oooh. Order me some garlic bread, half a dozen wings... and a deep dish meat lovers." Said Arrow eagerly as he cracked open a can of beer and made himself comfortable at the table across from Kurda.
"I could've sworn you just ate." Mika retorted drily. "You know, when you pried my piece out of my mouth like a giant fucking seagull?"
Arrow guffawed, and Mika cracked a smile too.
"It was MY - fuck, never mind." Kurda grunted.
"Did you say something, Nerda?" Mika asked over his shoulder as he rummaged in the fridge.
"Nothing at all." Said Kurda. "In fact, I was just leaving."
"Alright." Said Mika, shrugging. "Want a beer?"
"I have never, and will never want a beer." Kurda informed him.
"Beer me!" Arrow called. Mika obliged, and tossed him a can of Bud which Arrow cracked into like a child with a soda, then guzzled as though dying of thirst.
Kurda arched an eyebrow at Arrow.
"Have you started studying yet?" Kurda asked.
Arrow's brow furrowed in confusion, as though he had some truly intense mental gymnastics going on in that big head.
"Studying for...?"
Kurda facepalmed, hard.
"The sociology midterm we have at 8am tomorrow. You know, the one class we're both in? The one you only go to once a week and sleep through most of it?" Said Kurda.
That was where the night took turn. Arrow's face went pale.
"We have a soc midterm tomorrow?!" He practically bawled.
"Even I knew you had a soc midterm tomorrow. And I haven't taken soc since freshman year." Said Mika, shooting a lightly judgemental but mostly entertained look at his friend.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Arrow whined back.
"Why didn't you know?" Vancha snorted.
"We have the a game this weekend!" Said Arrow. "I have a lot on my mind!"
"You won't have any games if your GPA drops below 2.3." Kurda contributed. And maybe, just maybe, a little bit sadistically.
Arrow whipped around sharply and tried to glare at Kurda but he looked more panicked than anything else.
"That's how it works, isn't it?" Kurda pressed, knowing he was being unpleasant but too stressed to care. "You're required to maintain the bare minimum academic proficiency in order to prance around the field and tackle people every weekend? Damn, Aaron. We're not even halfway through the first Semester yet."
Arrow's face reddened and Kurda wasn't sure whether he was about to yell or cry.
"What's the midterm on?!" He asked anxiously, after moving his lips silently like a beached fish for a few moments.
"Well... it's a midterm." Said Kurda slowly and deliberately, as though explaining math to a small child. "So it'll cover everything up til this point in the term. Because it's a midterm. And I'm sure you already know this, because you're clearly so on top of things - but it's worth 30% of our final grade."
Arrow's face fell and his shoulders slumped.
"What am I going to do?!" He groaned. "I'm so fucked. I haven't even been to that class in two weeks."
Mika turned his body sideways in his chair so that he was facing Arrow, then propped his feet comfortably on the other chair, and leaned back as though he didn't have a care in the world. It truly was irritating, the way the bastard seemed to just cruise through life on autopilot.
"I'd hate to lose playoffs just because our best offensive tackle failed out." Mika contributed almost lazily as he folded his hands behind his head. "You already know Coach Wrent is watching us like a fucking hawk after the Perta incident last year. If you give him a reason to single you out, it'll be your funeral."
Arrow swung around to fix Mika with a truly traumatized look, to which Mika responded by calmly raising his jet-black eyebrows a fraction of a degree.
Mika and Arrow were connected more deeply than any married couple Kurda had ever met in his entire life. For all intents and purposes, they were soulmates. Co-dependent, platonic soulmates. The only reason Kurda was certain they weren't actually in a relationship was because Arrow was literally the most basic-ass heterosexual man in the world. Also, he wasn't Mika's type.
Arrow frowned back at Mika for a moment, then looked back at Kurda. It occurred to Kurda that this was the longest he'd ever spent in the presence of the Royal Pains.
"Will you help me study?" Arrow begged. "Please, Nerda?"
"Will you stop calling me Nerda?" Kurda fired back, and Vancha - sitting on the counter - roared in laughter and Mika smirked to himself.
"It's a compliment! Nerds are smart!" Arrow whined.
"Whatever." said Kurda, rolling his eyes so hard he almost glimpsed the inner walls of his skull. "Get your laptop and log into the class portal. I'll show you which files you should download, and I'll help you get started. Then I'm out."
"Thanks." Said Arrow weakly. He stood up from the table, then paused. Looked around bemusedly, scratched his head. "Anyone know where my laptop is?"
"Gavner spilled beer on it last Friday, remember? You put it over the heating vent in the living room to dry out. It's probably still there." Said Mika.
Arrow retrieved the laptop triumphantly, but his triumph was short-lived. It seemed his laptop had given up on life. Death by Bud Light - what a way to go.
"Clearly you've had a very productive week seeing as you didn't know your laptop was broken until now." Kurda remarked as he watched Arrow disconsolately pick the thing up and shake it - because that would help.
"Shut up!" Arrow groaned. Then added, "Can I use yours?"
"Absolutely not a chance in hell, ever." Kurda replied without hesitation. Arrow exhaled and looked over at Vancha.
"Can I borrow yours, Vancha?"
"The guys will be here in like half an hour! I need my laptop for music!" Vancha countered.
"You're having people over tonight?" Kurda practically yelped. But his comment went ignored.
"Is this 2008?" Said Mika. He shot Vancha a quizzical stare as though the man had just sprouted a second head. "You don't need your laptop. Link your phone to the Bluetooth like a normal person."
"How many people are coming over?" Kurda interjected, louder this time. But again , to no avail.
"I only have like ten songs on my phone!" Vancha fired back at Mika. "We can't all afford to pay extra for iCloud storage."
"Delete an app every once in a while, March. That's all I'm saying." Said Mika wisely. "Or try closing all your open Pornhub tabs. That'll free up at least 3 gigs, easy."
Vancha snickered while Arrow laughed raucously, clearly forgetting his troubles for a moment.
"Who's coming over?!" Kurda demanded, slightly louder this time.
"You can use my laptop, A." Mika sighed as he looked pityingly back at Arrow. "But if it ends up like yours, I'm slashing your tires."
Arrow nodded in affirmation - a deal had been struck. Mika slipped out of the room and returned with his black MacBook, complete with a ShaughnU Wolves sticker, and set it down in front of Arrow who sighed in relief. Mika then retreated upstairs to take a shower. Although out of the three of them, he needed one the least. All three Royal Pains were sweaty and disgusting from practice, but both Mika and Arrow smelled like roses compared to Vancha. At least they both own normal deodorant.
(Fun fact: At first, Kurda assumed Vancha simply didn't use deodorant. But that isn't the case - Vancha uses natural deodorant. At least once a day Kurda considers calling the company's customer complaint hotline.)
"Seriously, who the hell is coming over?" Kurda tried one more time, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knew it was a stupid question. He knew who was coming over. He knew it didn't matter that it was a weeknight.
"The usual." Said Vancha with a grin as he fetched his own laptop, clearly preparing to fire up whatever godawful playlist he had locked and loaded. "Hey, you should see if Gannen wants to come over too! Man, I haven't partied with him since high school."
"First of all, Gannen has a chem lab first thing tomorrow morning. Second of all, he's YOUR brother. If you want to hang out with him, you can initiate it without the use of a middleman." Kurda informed Vancha through gritted teeth, growing more irritable by the second and not caring as Vancha visibly winced. "And I have a fucking midterm, as we literally discussed thirty seconds ago. Also, not that I give a damn whether he passes or fails, but so does Mr. Offensive Tackle over here." Kurda added decisively, gesturing at Arrow.
Vancha's frown deepened. Arrow made a small whimpering sound as the reality of his predicament sank in.
"Right." Vancha sighed, then he looked at Arrow with very earnest consideration. "Do you mind if we have people over, Arrow? We don't have to."
"I mind." Said Kurda drily. Not that anyone listened.
Arrow looked thoughtful for a few moments.
"I don't know... I really need to study." He mumbled at last. "I can't fail this midterm. I'll be so fucked."
"Mika and I can just go to Larten's, instead of them coming here." Vancha offered.
"Good idea! You should do that." Said Kurda, very emphatically.
"No! It's okay. Let them come over." said Arrow quickly. Kurda cringed but he wasn't surprised. To Arrow, the only thing worse than studying in his own house while a party raged around him, would be studying in his own house with nobody but Kurda for company while Mika and Vancha partied in someone else's house without him.
It got worse.
Since Arrow was using Mika's laptop, his own credentials weren't auto saved in the online class portal, and it took him twenty-five minutes to re-set his password and log in. It was such a battle that Arrow almost gave up, and Kurda was fully prepared to let him.
Kurda had just started showing Arrow where to download the lecture slides when the door flew open, and the whole god-damn clown convention rolled into town.
If Kurda only ever had to deal with the big three, the Royal Pains, maybe his mental health wouldn't be in such a rapid state of decline. Maybe. But that would be too much to ask for. Where there's a clique of football royalty, the entourage is never far behind.
Enter: the Other Ones. Because when Kurda first met them, he was too tired and overwhelmed to think of a more creative name than that. So it stuck.
The moment of their arrival was unmistakable. First, the unmistakable hum of Tanish Eul's gaudy Range Rover pulling up. Then the sound of the front door being flung open as though caught in a gale-force wind.
And with that, the perimeter was breached. The walls began to shake with bellowed salutations, then footsteps stampeding from the front hall to the living room, and finally there was Vancha's atrocious playlist (a mishmash of gangster rap and hard rock that made Kurda's ears bleed). This happened at least three times a week and Kurda normally sought shelter in his room, or at Gannen's house if he really wasn't in the mood for jock shenanigans. But then he went and promised to help Arrow study, and he didn't think he ever regretted a decision this much in his entire life.
Especially since it soon became apparent that Arrow was utterly fucking hopeless. Kurda wasn't exactly surprised. Studying lasted all of fifteen minutes, and Arrow was half-checked out the entire time as he tried to listen to the conversation taking place in the next room. Larten, Mika, Tanish, and Vancha were loudly trying to one-up each other about their hookups from the previous weekend. Gross. And Kurda was even less surprised when Arrow abandoned ship completely when the nearby cacophony indicated their housemates and guests were taking their party to the back yard.
Know what's in the back yard?
Beer. Pong. Table.
Arrow abruptly stood up from the table and slammed the laptop shut rather recklessly, considering the thing didn't belong to him and cost more than a month's rent.
"I can't do this."
"Seriously?" Kurda grunted.
"Fuck it. I'll just get Coach Wrent to write me a note for the prof, saying I got another concussion. I'll take the test next week." Arrow explained decisively.
Kurda's blood boiled. As asinine as Arrow's plan sounded, it would work. Why wouldn't it? Arrow was football royalty. And the rules of academia bend like a paper clip around the whims of football royalty. Because that's totally fair, right?
Kurda's grandmother died back in freshman year. He missed a midterm for the funeral. He e-mailed the prof in advance and never got a response. When he returned to school several days later and asked if he could still take the test, the prof glared as though Kurda was absolutely incompetent for not thinking to grab a death certificate while saying goodbye to his beloved Gran-Gran. So Kurda took the loss, walked out of his office dejectedly, and cried in his car for a half an hour.
So to say he felt outright burned by Arrow's casual callousness was an understatement. Even at the best of times Kurda felt like there was a gaping chasm of disconnect between himself and almost all of his peers, but none more so than the three he'd somehow stumbled into cohabitating with. If there is a god, Kurda thought to himself at least three times a day, she has a real sick sense of humour.
Kurda didn't have family money like Mika, or an athletic scholarship like Arrow and Vancha. Kurda was on scholarship, but it hinged on him achieving consistently excellent grades. There was no "C's get degrees" for Kurda. If his GPA slipped too far, his tuition would disappear. And it would be game over. So Kurda never missed a class. He studied every day of his life. And he did it all while working as many hours at the café as he could possibly manage. He never complained - he was just grateful to be in school in the first place.
"Whatever. It's your funeral." Kurda signed defeatedly as he gathered his stuff to retreat upstairs to his room and study til his eyeballs fell out.
Once secluded upstairs, Kurda was faced by an entirely new predicament. His window did almost nothing to muffle the music, shouts, and laughter that were rising up from the back yard. Normally he was prepared for this type of thing - but as luck would have it, he'd forgotten his noise cancelling earphones at Gannen's house, and Gannen would already be asleep by now.
So he suffered in silence, while his Neanderthal housemates and their entourage of morons were anything but silent.
Kurda achieved about twenty consecutive minutes of studying before his focus slipped away - or more accurately, was yanked from his hands against his will despite his best efforts to hang on. Then, against his better judgement, he went back downstairs to make himself a coffee - all evidence suggested he wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight, so he might as well make it productive.
As the coffee percolated, he wandered out to the back porch for two reasons: One, for some much-needed fresh air. And two, to see exactly what the fuck was SO thrilling that they were all laughing their big dumb lungs out at 11pm on a school night.
As usual, there was nothing going on that looks remotely appealing to Kurda. He observed them from a distance for a few minutes as the nature documentary narration began to play in his head.
Here we see the ritual bonding ceremony of the Idiot Herd as their basest instructs begin to take over.
The beer pong table sat at the centre of the yard in all its glory. It was one of Vancha's passion projects. It was painted in a red and black checkered pattern (the school's colours) complete with the football team's logo added meticulously to the middle.
There was a pack of jocks gathered around aforementioned table. As Kurda expected, the guest list was the usual offenders: Vanez Blane, Gavner Purl, Tanish Eul, and Arra Sails. They were all slurping beer as though it was the elixir of life and hollering words of either encouragement or verbal abuse at the two teams currently having it out.
On one end of the pong table were Mika and Arrow, and by the looks of it they were winning. They were jumping up and down, pounding each other on the back and loudly mocking Vancha and Larten, who were on the other side.
"What happened to the fastest hands in the school, Quicksilver? Distracted by the scenery?" Mika smirked, exuding such cockiness that Kurda wanted to chuck something at his head. It wasn't hard to find the object of Larten's distraction. Arra Sails had just shed her hoodie, under which lay - clutch those pearls, folks - a fitted tank top. And although Kurda was no expert where female anatomy was concerned, she also appeared to be packing a push-up bra in there. Good for her. Larten's face turned bright red while Arrow guffawed, and Vancha rolled his eyes.
Larten "Quicksilver" Crepsley: Running Back for the ShaughnU Wolves. Major in engineering. Minor in bad decisions. Ladies' man, for reasons beyond Kurda's comprehension because the guy was about as attractive as a dirty sock.
"I was giving you a head start." Said Larten, sharply looking away from Arra to glare daggers back at Mika. "Your last trick shot was embarrassing."
"I mean... the ball still went in the cup. Isn't that the entire point?" Mika snorted. He took a long sip of his drink while side-eyeing Larten with mild amusement.
"Lucky shot, Quarterback." Larten fired back with a wicked grin. "We're just getting warmed up."
"Buckle the fuck up, gentlemen." Vancha added.
"For what? You to bounce the ball off my forehead and into the shrubs again?" Said Arrow.
"I came here to play beer pong, not to watch a circlejerk." Arra drawled boredy as she dug another beer out of the cooler she'd brought. "Either stop flirting with each other, or let another team step in."
Then everyone laughed, while Kurda tried to figure out exactly when she'd said something even remotely humorous.
Arra Sails: Kinesiology major. Minor in being one of the boys. Prefers beer over "that fruity shit" and never lets anyone forget it. Drives a loud-ass Challenger as if she's Vin Fucking Diesel. She's not like the other girls - she's so much worse.
"Whatever. I gotta go reload." Said Vancha, shaking his empty beer can. "Take my spot, Sails. Quicksilver was embarrassing me anyway."
"About fucking time." Arra grunted, cracking her knuckles and sidling up to Larten's end of the pong table.
"Kurda Fuckin' Smahlt!" Vancha bellowed gleefully as he bounded up the porch steps and spied Kurda lurking there. "You know you don't have to wait for an invitation!"
"I'm good, thanks." Kurda responded, and he meant it. "Just waiting for my coffee to brew."
"Coffee this late?" Said Vancha, arching his thick eyebrows quizzically. "How are you gonna sleep?"
Kurda laughed harshly at the stupidity of that statement.
"Are you kidding me, Vancha? As we've discussed, I have a midterm tomorrow morning and you're throwing a rave in our back yard." Kurda informed him coolly. "Sleep was never an option."
Vancha grimaced.
"Right. You know you study more in one week than any of us have all semester, right?"
"I'm acutely aware of that, actually." Said Kurda. He heard the telltale "beep" that indicated his coffee was ready, turned his back on Vancha and headed through the sliding door that led to the kitchen. Vancha followed like a determined puppy.
"Well, maybe it's time you took a break." Vancha suggested as he withdrew a fresh beer can from the fridge and cracked it open with a flourish. "Everyone knows you're smart as shit. I bet you could bomb that midterm completely and still pass the class."
"Of course I'd still pass." Kurda shot back rather testily. He poured his coffee without looking at Vancha. "But I can't just be satisfied with passing. I'm not like you - this isn't where I peak. That comes later. But in order to get there, I have to get through this first. If I don't keep my GPA up, this all goes away."
"I get it." Vancha shrugged. "I'm just saying it wouldn't kill you to unwind every now and then. Play a round of pong with us! Just one! Come on, it builds character!"
"So you're telling me I could turn out like you?" Said Kurda scathingly. "Wow. As tempting as that sounds, I'll pass."
Vancha's smile rapidly shifted into a scowl and he crossed his thick arms moodily.
"Whatever. You do you." Vancha grunted. "I'm sure you'll do great things after you graduate, and we might all end up working for you someday. But when it's all said and done, at least we can say we were happy while we were here. Your only college memories will be of the inside of a textbook, and throwing shade at your housemates because you thought they were too dumb to catch on. If you can make peace with that, then power to you."
And with that, he went back outside, clothing the sliding door a little harder than was probably necessary. Kurda groaned in frustration and ran his hand through his platinum hair. He stalked back upstairs and studied for another fifteen minutes before it occurred to him he was absorbing exactly none of the material.
And then a second thing occurred to him.
He already knew the material. He never skipped a class, after all. His notes were top-tier.
Then, finally:
The idiots down there in the yard sounded like they were having so much fun. They always did. Constantly. So much fun it just didn't seem fair to Kurda sometimes, how easily they all coasted through life.
Maybe Vancha had a point after all.
Kurda sighed, drained his coffee mug, closed his laptop, and headed back downstairs.
If you can't beat 'em, or convince 'em to shut the fuck up... join 'em.
It started innocently enough.
Kurda planned to take Vancha's advice. Get out of his shell for ten minutes, play a round of pong, have one drink, and go back to studying. But to everyone's utter shock (and none more so than Kurda himself) he ended up being unsettlingly good at beer pong. It's all about technique, you see. Physics. Angles. And if playing outdoors, which they were, taking wind direction into consideration. Kurda sunk every single ball and secured a win, to the utter delight of his teammate, Gavner.
Gavner Purl: Linebacker. Sociology major. In all honesty, he's actually a good guy. But he's still part of the football team, therefore he still regularly causes a commotion and makes a mess in Kurda's living space, which means Kurda feels obligated not to like him. But he was a good beer pong partner regardless.
"You should come out of your cave more often!" Gavner hooted gleefully, slapping Kurda on the back so hard Kurda thought he felt a rib crack. "What's your secret?"
"It's not that hard." Kurda chuckled ruefully. "It's all about the angle. You just have to aim, and think about the way the ball arcs. It's easier if you aim for a specific cup, rather than throw it and hope for the best."
"Is this a party or a fuckin' physics lecture?" Tanish Eul jeered from the other end of the table. "Jesus Christ, I dropped out of that shit for a reason. Where did this guy come from?"
Tanish Eul: Second Quarterback (i.e. Mika's understudy). Spends more time as a benchwarmer. Business and Finance major. Future Wall Street sellout. I'm not saying Tanish only on the team because his daddy is a ShaughnU alum who made it to the NFL, retired filthy rich and donated a locker room, but I am saying Tanish is fucking terrible at football yet here he still is. Kurda really thought Mika was the epitome of Rich Douche for the first week - and then he met Tanish. What's the difference? Mika knows he's rich, but he doesn't particulary care if you know he's rich. Tanish needs you to know he's rich otherwise he'll literally shrivel up and die.
Kurda rolled his eyes and shot Tanish a chilly glare. Tanish dropped barbed little comments around him all the time. Often of the subtlety homophobic variety. He got under Kurda's skin in ways the others didn't. Vancha, Mika, Arrow and the rest were loud, chaotic, and inconsiderate. But they weren't purposefully unkind - Kurda could give them that much credit at least. They didn't get him, but they weren't mean to him.
Tanish, on the other hand, was just a bully.
Normally Kurda didn't engage, but he'd had the equivalent of two glasses of wine (because fuck Bud Light) by the time he finished the round of beer pong. And today he was not having it.
"Did you drop out, Tanish? Is that what happened?" Kurda inquired offhandedly, but not without a mocking undertone to his voice. "Because I heard it was more of a 'failed-out-with-a-thirty-percent' type of situation."
Deafening bellows of laughter from the other guys split the night air, drowning out the Drake song thumping in the background. Kurda didn't exactly like anything about this situation, but he couldn't deny he felt a little validated.
"I'd almost forgotten about that!" Vanez hooted, slapping Tanish's shoulder. "Fuck, man... that class was NOT kind to you. Even I passed that shit."
Vanez Blane: Wide receiver. Somehow more intense about football than any of the Royal Pains and that's no easy feat. But it makes sense considering he's majoring in Sports Medicine. And minoring in keg stands - because if that's not a celebration of the human body then what is?
Kurda felt a grim swell of satisfaction as he watched Tanish's face redden at Vanez'z comment.
"Sorry we can't all be Einstein Barbie." Tanish huffed. He narrowed his eyes nastily at Kurda. "But why would anyone want to be?"
"Personally I'd rather be Einstein Barbie than knockoff Baron Eul." Mika contributed in a way that came off casual but was clearly laced with disdain. Baron Eul was Tanish's NFL legend of a father. Kurda didn't know much about football, but based on what he'd overheard from his housemates, Baron's athletic prowess skipped a generation. But his wallet hadn't, luckily for Tanish.
"You'd better watch your mouth, Ver Leth." Tanish snapped, turning even redder still. "I don't see any locker rooms here with your dad's name on them."
Mika laughed breezily, took a long drink, and gazed back at Tanish with an expression of pure condescending boredom.
"Well, unlike you, my dad didn't have to buy me onto the team. Know why?" Mika smirked, tilting his head. "Because I'm good at football." He added in a stage whisper, earning even more laughter from the crowd, and a chuckle from Kurda. Kurda liked to consider himself above all this shit, and he didn't like Mika all that much. But he really, really loathed Tanish.
"Do you wanna fuckin' go?" Tanish slurred, his fists balling up at his sides.
"I do, actually." Said Mika calmly, flashing Tanish a grin and cracking his knuckles unassumingly. "Let's do a rain check, though. I'd hate to fuck my hand up before the game this weekend. You know, because even though your dad has three SuperBowl rings... I'm still starting quarterback."
Again, Kurda didn't know much about football. And these guys were barely two steps above perfect strangers to him. But he did know that all of them either had money or talent. But Mika had both, and Tanish resented him for it.
"You're only starting quarterback because you got Perta expelled, you cunt. You're not better than me." Tanish growled, taking a step towards Mika.
Kurda immediately sensed a change in atmosphere. He watched the other guys exchange glances of concern. Mika didn't seem worried, though. He rolled his eyes again - which was how he reacted to just about everything, ever.
"Tan, why don't we play another round?" Larten suggested placatingly, elbowing Tanish pointedly. "You and me against Mika and Arrow."
Tanish ignored him and continued glaring at Mika.
"Perta got himself expelled." Mika shot back at Tanish. "You really think I'd let him snort lines off my fucking car and film it? I wasn't even there. I was in the back yard. And I could've been suspended if they found out it was my car. Get your head out of your ass, Eul."
Tanish muttered something that was indecipherable to Kurda, but clearly Mika heard it because his face darkened and he looked ready to kill.
"Alright! Good talk, team!" Vancha interjected loudly. "So, who's in for the next game?"
Arrow grabbed Mika's shoulder and steered him back to the table while Larten and Tanish prepared to face off with them. Kurda wasn't expecting Mika to glance over at him.
"Got any more physics tips, Smahlt?" Mika asked pointedly.
Kurda opened his mouth to say, "Thanks for the cultural experience but I'm going to bed and pretending this never happened".
Then he heard Tanish mutter something that sounded vaguely derogatory in his direction. Kurda felt a flicker of spite that, fortified by cheap wine, was stronger than his desire to escape. He made his way over to stand a few feet from Mika and Arrow, walking with purpose.
"I have plenty." Said Kurda evenly, glaring Tanish down. Then he dropped his voice to a mutter, and the other two leaned in to hear him. "The wind is coming from the west, so throw further to the right than you think you need to. Eyeball the cup you're aiming for, then adjust it by about half a foot."
Armed with their admittedly impressive skills and Kurda's practical science-based coaching, Mika and Arrow cinched another easy victory. Much to Larten's frustration and Tanish's outright rage. Then Kurda found himself on the pong table once again, this time at Arra's side as the two of them took on the victors of the previous round. Arra didn't think much of Kurda, and made no effort to hide it. She acted as if he was holding her back, completely ignoring his advice. Until she missed three cups in a row, and in an act of desperation she pulled down the front of her shirt in an effort to distract Mika, who was lining up a shot at Kurda and Arra's only remaining cup. Her distraction tactic didn't phase Mika in the slightest. He looked her dead in the eye and sunk the ball effortlessly. Arra flung her half-empty beer can to the ground and stalked away to go sulk in the lawn chair she'd brought.
Mika may not have been phased, but Larten sure as hell was. He'd stood there at the side of the table, arms crossed and lips pressed together irritably as Arra either didn't notice, or pretended not to notice. Kurda figured there had to be something between Larten and Arra, but he didn't particularly care what it was.
The rest of night became a blur of loud, shitty music, endless plastic cups of wine (classy as fuck, right?), more pong, until suddenly his alarm was screaming, his head was pounding, and he was curled up in his bed feeling like he was about to die. How he'd gotten there, he didn't know. All he knew was it was 7:30am and he still had a fucking midterm at 8.
Just his luck. Tries to get out of his comfort zone, completely screws himself over in the process. Perfect.
"Fuuuuuck." He whimpered to himself as he tried to sit up. The room was spinning on its axis, and he felt like he was still drunk. Luckily he'd been eating popcorn out of a bowl in here two nights ago and the empty bowl hadn't yet migrated back downstairs. Usually he was really on top of that type of thing, but his past self had really done his present self a favour. He grabbed the bowl and vomited violently into it until all he could do was dry heave.
Getting dressed was painful, and he was certain he was about to pass out. When he finally opened his bedroom door and limped out to the hall, he thought he was hallucinating when he found himself face-to-face with Arra, who looked about as put-together as Kurda currently felt. She was wearing what looked like one of Mika's ten thousand black t-shirts. Didn't take a genius to figure out where she spent the night.
"Oh, good. It's you." Arra greeted him bluntly.
"I fucking live here." Kurda grunted, with as much unpleasantness as he could muster.
"Right. I always forget." Said Arra as they both headed down the stairs in single file. "You really enjoyed yourself last night, huh? I thought you didn't drink." She added as an afterthought, arching a neatly plucked eyebrow.
"Just because I don't normally get wasted on a school night doesn't mean I don't drink." Kurda replied stiffly, grabbing his car keys and pausing only long enough to fill his water bottle. He'd need it.
"Whatever." Arra shrugged, opening the fridge as though she owned the place. "Where are you rushing off to?"
"Soc midterm at 8."
"Isn't Arrow in that class?"
"He sure is." Said Kurda through gritted teeth. "He didn't know about the midterm until last night. So rather than lift a finger to study, he said he'd get the coach to write him a note so he can take it next week. Then he proceeded to play beer pong all night."
Arra laughed as though Kurda had just told a delightful joke.
"Classic Arrow." She smirked, digging a red Gatorade out of the fridge and cracking it open. "Don't look so judgy." She added. "You played beer pong all night too."
"I've never missed a class. I know the course material inside and out. I can afford to give myself a break." Said Kurda flatly. "I regret it, but that's beside the point."
He felt his stomach churn with frustration all over again, and the hangover sure didn't help. Arrow should be down here too, running around this kitchen like a maniac, sharing in Kurda's inescapable feeling of crippling dread. But no. The bastard was still up there in bed, sleeping like a log and probably wouldn't open his eyes til noon.
Fuck football. Fuck football players. Fuck beer pong. Fuck college.
But mostly, fuck 8am midterms.
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- Roxy