Coming Up For Air | ✓

6 | of fries and men

Upon pedaling into town on a bicycle earlier tonight, Stella hadn't planned on resorting to violence.

Yet, here she is: arm shoved down a whale's throat—it's impassive steel gray eyes mocking her—with absolutely no intent on being the first to back down.

"You know," Jake clears his throat, weighing back on his heels where he's stood next to her—their golf clubs in one of his hands and their towering cloud of white cotton candy in the other. "We could just get you a new ball."

"Yes and then we can spread our wings and fly, sprinkle a little bit of peace all over the world," Stella rolls her eyes, ignoring the smile tugging on Jake's lips, and bangs her free hand against the whale's solid side. "Come on! Just spit it out already."

"Maybe you should try whispering sweet promises?"

Stella glares at the stupid gigantic plastic whale. Normally—going on seven years as a vegetarian—she'd consider herself an ally of animals, even plastic ones, but the time for being sweet has come and gone; this whale picked a fight with the wrong girl and she's getting her ball back. Her perfectly purple ball.

A shiver runs up her spine as her pinky touches against something inside the whale that's definitely not part of the plastic decor.

Is that gum? Ugh.

Grimacing, she reaches further. A breath of relief escapes her as her fingers finally close around the pebbled surface of a ball. "Aha!"

She frowns as she steps back from the whale, gaze locked on the ball in her hand.

It's yellow.

"Oh for fu–"

"Stells." Jake interrupts, his eyes darting in the direction of a big group passing them by the very same moment. Five kids walk in the midst of it, happily inhaling the ice cream cones in their hands.

"Fu–...anta's sake."

"Okay, I'm getting you a new ball."

A defeated sigh slips Stella's lips. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she brushes some imaginary dust from the front of her cream colored—knit, puff-and short sleeved—top and trails behind Jake. "Yeah, fine. Okay,"

Throwing one last glance over her shoulder, she sticks her tongue out. "Suck it whale."

━ ♡♡♡ ━

Her mood improves as they move through the twelve holes of the adventure golf course. Much thanks to the hole-in-one she managed on the eighth, and she had instantly decided to guard her new ball and the winning streak it brought along with her life.

Whirling through the bustling crowd, they dodge kids rushing past—a patter of feet against the stone floor. The sweet aroma of buttery popcorn and spun sugar envelopes them, blending with the faint whiffs of flowery perfumes and stark after-sun lotion.

The pier is a sea of summer pastels, a whirl of dresses, denim shorts and headbands. Some families play adventure golf, others walk along the long dock where it stretches out—the stone floor of the platform exchanged for wide wooden planks—high above the water of the lake. Faint music carries through the air, a backdrop to the loud chatter of the crowd.

Stella peers down at the slip of paper in Jake's hand, letting her golf club sway slightly back and forth. "What's the score?"

Her lips curl into a small smile as she notices they're balancing on the same number, side by side in a sprint to the finish line, with only the twelfth—and last—hole to go.