As were protruded down the stairs together you could hear the clack of shoes against the steps, his clunky long legged jaunt, skipping steps at a time, and my patient and graceful one stair at a time approach. The halls of our boarding school were quiet other then our footsteps. This was no surprising given it was ten in the evening. He reached the bottom first and waited impatiently.
“Can you hurry up, there just stairs,” he said harshly.
“May I remind you of my history with stairs,” I said calmly focusing on the task at hand.
“Oh, that’s right, falling down stairs is like a hobby for you isn’t it,” he said sarcastically.
“I think it’s proven to be one of the hobbies I’m better at,” I said as I stepped off the last stare and smiled at him.
We walked into the student social area of the school. It wasn’t fancy, white cinderblock walls, old tattered green carpet, dim lighting that always seemed to be going out, but it was enough.  There were three gaming tables lined up in the room, a pool table, a foosball table, and a Ping-Pong table. He walked over to the right hand wall, where the student mailboxes were all aligned and opened his. He stood their for a second perplexed before mumbling “someone took the Ping-Pong paddles and balls.”
I stood their for a second looking guilty before he turned around and looked me in the eyes. As they bore into me, I found myself helpless to resist telling him the truth.
“Actually it wasn’t somebody, it was me,” I said indignantly.
“You went into my mailbox?” He said, not necessarily annoyed, but surprised.
“Don’t be silly, that’s illegal,” I said
He furled his brow at me.

“I had someone do it for me,” I finished with a smile.
“Why?” he asked.
“Well last time I checked they were my paddles,” I replied.
“Yeah, but I was using them,” He said.
“And feel free to, it just made me more comfortable to have them in mine,” I said.
He shrugged before tossing me one of the paddles. It hit the table with the thud and he gave me a really-you-couldn’t-catch-that look.
“Sorry, I’m more used to throwing things then catching things,” I replied.
“Trust me, I know. Remember the apple?” He said.
“Ok, but to be fare you had that one coming to you,” I said.
“I guess I did,” he replied laughing before getting into his game stance.
“Are we starting with Ping?” He asked.
“Sure,” I replied.
He served the ball and I returned it. It went back and forth and back and forth until he hit it into the net.
“Your serve,” he said.
“Game to eleven?” I asked.
“Yep,” he replied.
I served the ball to him and he returned it with ease. We were evenly matched most of the time. Sometime he would get to cocky and try to spike the ball, this almost always led to him hitting it into the net. The point continued until I let the ball shoot past me, over the edge of the table. It his the floor and rolled six feet away under a table. I walked over and picked it up before tossing it back to him. The next point went almost exactly the same.
“Why do you always make me play on this side?” I asked him, as I walked over to retrieve the ball again.
“Because that’s the winning side,” he said.
“Mhhmm, are you sure is has nothing to do with the fact that I have to walk to get the ball every time you miss the table whereas you don’t have to walk at all?” I said, a cutesy, know-it-all smile on my face.
“Nope, that’s not it at all,” he said. There was a glint in his blue eyes that told me he was lying, but I already knew that.
“Well then I guess I’ll just have to assume it’s that you like seeing me lean down,” I said in my best self-absorbed tone.
“And why would I like that?” He asked.
“Because my a** looks amazing in these jeans,” I said, running my fingers over the denim as to demonstrate.
“I guarantee, I have never thought about your a**, not today not ever,” he said smiling.
“Well that makes one of us,” I said in my head laughing at my own wit. Just because we’d moved on from the whole me telling him I was in love with him fiasco, didn’t mean he wasn’t still eye candy. I threw the ball back to him and he served it to me. I managed to return the first one, but he got me with a quick shot to the corner making the score me two and him one. He served again and after a long rally, I won. He threw me back the ball and I served it to him. I won again making it me four him one. I threw the ball to him. It bounced and he caught it, but immediately threw it back to me. I looked at him quizzically.
“It’s still your serve,” he said snickering.
I looked at him suspiciously.
“Remember how bad you are at knowing whose serve it is? Just trust me,” he replied.
I was so tired and knew I wasn’t thinking straight. I squinted my eyes at him to make it look like I didn’t believe him, and his widened as if I had just challenged him.
“Fine, don’t believe me,” he said exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in the air.
“I’m kidding, of course I trust you,” I said letting my guard down a little. I didn’t know if I did completely trust him. I had fallen for him and he had let me down, and though that isn’t his fault, I still couldn’t help but feel betrayed.
I served the ball to him and he hit it back in a way I just could not return making it me four him two. He got into his serving stance, paddle in one hand, ball in the other, legs spread apart and leaning slightly to the left. He started to move the ball in circles around the paddle in some sort of distracting dance. When he finally hit the ball I had no idea where it was and he hit it right past me. He did the same move on his next serve winning another point. It was now tied four to four. 
“Wow, I guess I found your weakness,” he said.
“Yeah, maybe. When you move like that and I’m this tired, it’s like there are three of you, and I can’t even handle one of you,” I said snarkily.
“Hey!” He said slightly laughing.
Realizing I might have gone over the line I said, “I think that was somehow a compliment,” raising my eyebrows in an attempt to look innocent.
“Saying you can’t handle me is a compliment,” he said, still poking fun.
“When are you going to learn just not to question the things I say,” I said, laughing too.
I served my first point and he won it after a long rally. On the second one I thought I would try a page out of his book. I took the ball and starting to move it around the paddle. I put it on one side, then the other while his eyes darted, following it’s every motion. I finally served it and it went right into the net.
“You know it’s supposed to go over the net, right?” He said.
I put my pointer finger to my lips and shushed him before going back to my normal serve, winning the point. We were still tied, but this time at five to five. He started to serve again, using his same dancing motions. I managed to return both points making the score me seven him five. I looked at him for a second. He could tell how tired I was, so instead of chastising me for not knowing whose serve it was he just threw me the ball. I served it and he hit it back excellently. It was one of those rare times that his spikes actually hit my side of the table. I hit it back and it flew over the table and hit him in the chest, bouncing off of him and onto the floor.
“I think it’s supposed to hit the table,” he said mockingly.
“What are you talking about? I hit exactly what I was aiming for!” I said, a fake smile plastered on my face.
He shook his head slightly. I served to him again and we were rallying for a minute before he tried to spike it again and it flew right into the net. I opened my mouth with an expression indicating I was going to say something cheeky, but I was stopped when he said, “don’t say it.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” I said, raising my eyebrows at him.
“I know you. You had three brilliant lines prepared for when I failed, but why don’t you save them for another time,” he said.
“Well actually you don’t know me at all. I had four brilliant lines prepared and two sub par ones ready depending on how bad you were going to play today,” I replied smiling as I threw the ball back to him so he could serve.
“My mistake,” he said sarcastically as he served.
I won both points meaning that it was now still his serve, and game point.
“Hold on a second, this is getting serious,” he said as he started to take off his blue and white jacket.
“What do you think, does the shirt need to go too?” He asked me, as he started lifting up his also blue and white shirt.
“Are you trying to distract me with your abs?” I asked him, a look of contempt on my face.
“I don’t know? Is it working?” He asked me.
“No,” I said. I knew in my head, and in my heart, that this was a lie. I really wanted him to take his shirt of, but this was a good friendship we had going now, and I didn’t want to complicate things by getting more attracted to him again.
He let his shirt fall back over his chest and served the ball. It was a solid serve to the right hand corner and I just could not get it.
“Are you sure it didn’t work?” He asked jokingly.
“Check the score funny guy. I’m still up by three,” I said.
He served again and after a long rally, he hit it to the corner and won another point, making it me ten him eight.
“Looks like I’m making a comeback,” he said.
“Yeah, well I’ll make sure it’s short lived,” I said before he served the ball.
I did just that. He gave me the opportunity to spike the ball and I did so. He was helpless, and the game was over. He threw the paddle down before looking up to me, a look of masculine pride on his face and saying “rematch?”
“Not tonight,” I said yawning.
His face instantly turned pouty and brooding. I laughed a little bit at it before saying “I’m sure we will be playing this game many nights to come, don’t worry.”
“Tomorrow night at nine?” He asked me.
“It’s a date,” I said, before realizing the implications. I trailed off for a second before following it up with “well you know what I mean.”
He rolled his eyes at me before reaching out to grab the paddle out of my hand and going to put them in my mailbox.
“Go ahead and keep them in yours,” I said.
“No, it’s ok,” he replied.
I walked over to him and grabbed then out of his hands, reaching to open his mailbox and saying “I insist.”
“Here, why don’t you keep one in yours, and I’ll keep one in mine,” he said placing them in that arrangement.
I nodded my approval before we turned to exit the lounge. He grabbed his jacket and we got to the stairs once again. He started his lumbering steps again before turning to me and saying, “watch your step,” and with that, he disappeared around the corner turning into nothing but footsteps in the distance.