AnimeCon Harem Bonus: New Friends (Patreon)

   “Hey,” Mary interrupted the booth vendor as the woman was in the midst of speaking to another customer. “What’s your like, cheapest possible t-shirt?”

   Although already in her early thirties, the vendor was a cool and restrained Japanese beauty dressed in a white-and-blue patterned kimono. Long bangs were swept across her forehead, while the rest of her long black hair was pinned up with a small ornament fashioned to look like a cherry blossom.

   “Excuse me?” Hideko gave the teen a patient glance. After running a small business selling merchandise at conventions for a little over a decade, the novelty of seeing fellow oriental faces had long since worn off. Although Hideko was born in America, her parents were of pure Japanese descent and had raised her full of love for Japanese culture.

   I’m sure they would sigh in regret at where that love took me, Hideko thought to herself, giving the customer she’d been chatting with a smile and a small bow before turning her full attention to Mary.

   A slim teenager with distinctly Asian features, her black hair pulled into a tight bun. She was a pretty girl—probably Chinese from the rounder shape of her face and that small nose— and she was wearing an irritated expression.

   “Your cheapest t-shirt,” Mary repeated. “Like, do you have any that are messed up, or half off or something?”

   Cosmic Carl still gives away his misprinted shirts for free... Hideko thought, eyes glancing furtively several booths down at the other vendor selling shirts on his display. But, why I tell that to an ingrate like you?

   “Well?”

   “I’m sorry,” Hideko showed the girl an apologetic smile. “I don’t think there are any vendors with misprints, and I doubt anything will reduce in price until tomorrow.”

   “Okay, can you make me a deal, then?” Mary insisted, frowning. “I want your cheapest shirt. I don’t care what it looks like.”

   “I am running a special right now,” Hideo gestured to the large sign hung above her booth, where her business name, Annie May Fan! was plastered next to a chibi anime girl. Her prices were listed below, all in flat dollar amounts.

   “One for fifteen, but two for twenty?” Mary scowled. “I don’t need two shirts. Can’t you pretend I bought one earlier, and just give me a shirt for five, then?”

   “I’m sorry, customer, but I can’t do that,” Hideko smiled and shook her head.

   “What deal can you make me, then?” Mary demanded.

   “My prices are just as they’re listed, I’m sorry,” Hideko shook her head. She wasn’t adverse to bargaining or haggling down the price a bit, for the right customer. Provided they weren’t obnoxious little cretins, of course.

   “These aren’t even that great?” Mary said, rummaging carelessly through the neatly folded shirts heaped upon Hideko’s booth. “Are you Chinese?”

   “Japanese,” Hideko said, carefully straightening the shirts Mary had just ruffled through.

   “Yeah, of course you are,” Mary muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes. “Alright, fine. Whatever. Is this the smallest size you have? What’s this one say?” The Chinese teen in the light blue blouse lifted up a gray tee with ヤリマン emblazoned across the front.

   “Ah, excellent choice,” Hideko couldn’t stop her own smile from widening. “That’s an extra small. It says yariman, which means generosity.” She held her breath, but thankfully, none of the nearby passerby jumped in to correct her.

   “Can you do ten dollars for it?” Mary asked, wadding the shirt up and tucking it under her arm impatiently.

   “I’m sorry, fifteen,” Hideko shook her head.

   “Tch,” Mary gave her a bitter look. “Whatever, fine. S’not my money, anyways.” With obvious reluctance, she waved a fifty-dollar bill over the booth to Hideko.

   “Thank you, thank you,” Hideko smiled and gave a small bow. “Did you need change?”

   “Uh, yeah I need my fucking change back,” Mary said impatiently, not having caught the humor in Hideko’s tone.

   Chuckling good-naturedly to herself, Hideko bent over behind the booth, checking through her cash box for filthy, stained, or ripped small bills to give the girl. Unfortunately, the previous customers of the day hadn’t given her any, so Hideko had to busy herself counting and recounting just to find a way to waste Mary’s time. After a full minute, Hideko had thirty-five dollars for the girl—one ten dollar bill, three fives, nine of the most weathered single dollar bills she had, and a fistful of dimes, nickels, and pennies.

   “Ugh. Do you gotta bag or something?” Mary frowned, trying to count the money. 

   “Yes, I have bags for thirty dollars,” Hideko smiled, gesturing towards the hanging messenger bags that sported anime logos.

   “Nevermind,” Mary made a face, finally turning to leave. Hideko watched with a grin as the Chinese girl stomped away gracelessly to disappear down the aisle.

   “There’s no way that shirt said ‘generosity,’” Her neighbor, a balding old vendor with a goatee of white hair leaned over, laughing.

   “Yariman,” Hideko shared a demure smile with the man. “Vulgar slang; a girl who’s generous with her pussy. An easy woman, or a slut.”

   The man let out barking laughter and slapped at his thigh. Shaking her head in amusement at her own wares, Hideko stood on her tip-toes to fix the other piles of apparel in the front Mary had nearly knocked onto the floor. She still loved Japanese culture, but over the years simple numbers had proven that cheap t-shirts with simple cheesy sayings on them yielded the most profit.

   Generosity indeed.

*     *     *

   “Oh my God, thank you so much!” Melanie exclaimed, grappling at Mary in a big hug.

   “Don’t hug me— ew! Ew!” Mary elbowed and shoved her way out of Melanie’s grasp when the trenchcoat opened up to reveal Melanie was topless beneath. She ineffectually whapped at the shameless girl with the shirt she had bought for her.

   “Let us see, what’d you get?” Foxy chuckled, intercepting the shirt as it landed on Melanie. Black lettering upon the tiny gray shirt read ヤリマン.

   “It says generosity, Mary explained. “It was expensive.”

   “That’s fine,” he nodded indifferently. “Generosity, huh? I thought that looked familiar. What do you think, Melaneko?”

   “I love it!” Melanie said, grinning from ear to ear. “Generosity. It’s perfect, because I’m like, totally generous! And then, you buying it for me is generous! And, you getting it for us is generous, too! We’re all super generous.”

   “Oh? You’re generous, too?” Foxy asked.

   “I can be!” Melanie teased, winking. Without further ado, she started pulling it on over her head, letting Foxy’s trenchcoat slide to the floor.

   Hey! Mary inwardly groused, and a golden glimmer glinted through her mind as she lunged forward to catch the coat. Be more careful with his things! He is… uh, this is probably expensive.

   Foxy didn’t notice at all, however, because Melanie’s buxom breasts sprung out and were staring him in the face for a long moment as she tried to squeeze them into the too-small top Mary had bought for her. He got a blatant eye-full of the girl’s prominent pink nipples before she managed to wrestle the fabric down over them, and even then the shapes distended and stretched the fabric until even the ヤリマン lettering seemed to bulge in protest.

   “Yipes, I must be gettin’ fat,” Melanie joked, unable to pull the hem the whole way down to her white short shorts. 

   “You... want us to find you a different size?” Foxy offered, swallowing distractedly.

   “Nah, no way, I’m just kiddin’ ya,” Melanie laughed, giving an experimental hop. The indecent shape of her bust bounced with the movement and only slowly stopped jiggling a few moments later. “I actually really like wearing tight shirts. That’s generous of me, right?”

   “They are very generous,” Foxy managed to tear his eyes away with great difficulty. “You’ve definitely made a fan out of me, today.”

   “Haha, really?!” Melanie’s eyes lit up. “I’m gonna make a cosplay page soon, yeah.”

   “Did you just change right in the middle of the hallway?!” Mary accused, folding the trenchcoat carefully over her arm.

   “Yeah…?” Melanie snorted. “It’s not like everyone here hasn’t seen them before?”

   Appalled as she was, Mary also found herself a little pleased. Why WOULDN’T the stupid whore change right in front of us?

   It perfectly illustrated the difference in the two girls’ positions. He’d practically bought Melanie for the simple price of that cheap t-shirt. He spent way, WAY more than that on me. Breakfast at the fancy cafe. Snacks afterwards, the second I told him I wanted them. An entire Korean box-set, and the poster that wasn’t for sale. It’s like the difference between a wife and a concubine. One’s for treating with dignity and bearing your future children, the other’s just a fleshy fuck-sleeve for slaking your lust on whenever you’re bored. Idiot girl. When he looks at me, I see respect. He looks at you like you’re not even a person anymore, like you’re just a piece of meat.

   “Mel! Hey, check it out!” Jordyn called over, proudly dancing towards them with a golden trophy held high. “Ooh, I like the shirt.”

   The African-American girl sauntered up, still attired in her exquisite red Dmitri Dhampir outfit, and tipped her flat-brimmed hat at them with white-gloved fingers. While not revealing, the vest and undershirt beneath her duster-style coat were fitted trim to her body in a smart way, giving her figure a respectable but still very charming appearance.

   “Synn!” Melanie squeaked, pouncing over at her newfound friend. “That. Is. Enormous! Can I hold it? Can I stroke it?!”

   The trophy had a tall white and gold base with the words AnimeCon 201X Judge’s Choice emblazoned across it, rising up to a large sculpted star at the top that was flanked by an eagle wing on one side and an olive branch on the other. Jordyn offered it to Mel to inspect and the girl waggled it in her hands.

   “It’s heavy! You really won this, you’re so fuckin’ awesome!” Bubbling with excitement, Melanie spun towards Foxy. “Can you get a picture of me and Synn together with it?”

   “Of course,” Foxy agreed. “My pleasure.”

   He produced a sleek phone from his pocket and complied, taking several pictures of the pair posing with the Judges Choice trophy. In each of them, Melanie seemed determined to hug the trophy between her breasts, and Jordyn stood as close in as she could, still giddy with excitement from the win.

   “Not bad at all,” Foxy praised. “You two look absolutely stunning.”

   “Thank you,” Jordyn beamed, flashing him a smile.

   “Thanks!” Melanie giggled.

   “I’m really glad you were able to win, you really deserved it,” Foxy said. “Did you make sure to pick up your check, too?”

   “I did!” Jordyn sounded extraordinarily pleased. “Five hundred dollars! I can’t believe it.”

   “Wait, what,” Mary’s mouth fell open. “What do you mean, five hundred dollars?” 

   “Prize money, for winning the contest,” Foxy explained.

   “There was money?” Mary asked in disbelief. “I thought it was a cosplay nerd thing.”

   “It was a cosplay nerd thing with money!” Melanie agreed, clapping her hand against Jordyn’s in an enthusiastic high-five.

   Five hundred dollars?! Mary looked Jordyn up and down in a daze. She hadn’t even put the black girl in her sight a moment ago, but now she realized what a wealth she’d nearly overlooked. The girl was sexy, in an exotic but strangely genteel way. The cut of her cloth celebrated a generous figure while also seeming dashing and handsome. The costume was full of details she’d nearly overlooked, the very darkness of Jordyn’s skin that Mary had found off-putting mere moments ago now seemed clean and inviting in a strange new way.

   “Well, I was gonna head over to the pizza place down the block and grab a bite,” Jordyn smiled, and Mary felt a golden tingle trickle down her throat. The black girl’s good mood seemed infectious, and she couldn’t help but smile along.

   “You guys wanna come with?”

*     *     *

   Skirting around the discordant mass of AnimeCon attendees filling the main lobby, Jordyn  pressed towards the exits with her new friends following close behind. There was cute newbie cosplayer Melanie, a bubbly girl overflowing with infectious enthusiasm, the stalwart and rather charming Foxy, who’d been one of the contest judges, and finally a lovely young Chinese girl named Mary who clung to Foxy’s arm with pursed lips. The foursome crossed through the threshold of double-doors together and then stepped out into the open air of the plaza in front of the convention center. The Judge’s Choice trophy in Jordyn’s hand seemed to sparkle in the light, filling her with a giddy feeling of elation all over again.

   She had already removed her wide-brimmed Dmitri Dhampir hat and slipped out of her red duster, revealing smooth chocolate-colored shoulders and arms to the sunshine. Thankfully, both the prim suit vest and the silken shirt she wore beneath were sleeveless—a measure she’d taken in design of her costume to help ensure she wouldn’t become a sweating mess today. The remaining portion of her cosplay looked equal parts alluring and professional, giving her a somewhat sophisticated air as she sauntered forward in dress slacks and criss-crossing gunbelts.

   “Omigosh, I’m like, starving,” Melanie keened, clutching at her tummy dramatically as if it were folding in on itself and collapsing. “Haaaah. I’m totally gonna die if I don’t eat soon.”

   “That’s complete exaggeration,” Mary accused in a deadpan voice, narrowing her eyes at the other teen. “You’re not really going to die, now. Are you?”

   “Geez, Mare,” Melanie rolled her eyes at Mary’s disappointment with a giggle. “Uh, yeah I’m gonna die eventually? I just, I wanted to go out in some kinda badass blaze of glory, instead of wasting away to nothing out here on the streets?”

   “My name is Mary,” Mary growled. “Don’t ever call me Mare.”

   “Wasting away to nothing?” Foxy echoed with a mirthful laugh. “Yeah, the gutters lining the street from AnimeCon to Marinos are just filled with the broken bodies of those who weren’t able to make it that far. Every year, that place is packed with the desperate dying hordes who managed to starve themselves all day.”

   Jordyn couldn’t help but smile at that. Anime convention newcomers were notorious for excitement and enthusiasm clouding their judgement when it came to how to actually survive a convention day. Up and about on their feet exploring for far longer than expected, most newbies found themselves exhausted, dehydrated, and suffering by the end of the day. They often wore cosplays with little contingency for comfort and ease of movement, and most of the poor souls wound up trapped in crazy lines and paying outrageous prices at the convention center food pavilions due to poor planning.

   Veteran con-goers were long past such tempering experiences—after years of visiting various anime cons, Jordyn strode into this weekend with a brand new pair of gel insoles in her boots. Lunch for her had been a wrapped deli sandwich and a bottled water stashed in leather carry-pouches just behind her gun holsters, and cool comfort was as accessible as simply taking off her Dimitri coat and carrying it folded in the crook of her arm.

   “I just shoved packs of ramen in my car before I left for the con,” Melanie admitted with a laugh. “That’s like, all I’ve been eating for the past month anyways. To get me in the whole Japanese mood for the convention! Also ‘cause like, there’s no way I’d be able to afford AnimeCon if I ate real people food all the time, haha.”

   “I had breakfast in that little café off of the main lobby,” Mary said, looking up at Foxy. “It was fantastic.”

   “Ooh, pricey,” Jordyn winced. “I went in there once a couple years ago, to grab an emergency coffee. Came out feeling like I wanted to cry.”

   “Yeah—well, I didn’t pay for anything,” Mary sounded more than a little smug.

   “Lucky!” Melanie said, taking a skipping hop forward. As the shortest amongst them, her stride wasn’t quite covering as much ground as everyone else’s. “Although you also got me this shirt for free, haha, so I’m not gonna hold it against ya, Mare.”

   “Don’t fucking call me Mare. I’m serious, I hate it when people call me names,” Mary spat with a petulant face. “It’s not fucking cute.”

   “Sorry, Mary,” Melanie obliged the girl with a sheepish apology. “Mary.”

   “Yeah,” Jordyn couldn’t help but tease. “She’s... really more of a filly than a mare, isn’t she?”

   “That better not be another word for horse,” Mary grumbled, turning to shoot a look at Jordyn. The two had scarcely exchanged more than a few words to each other since meeting a short while ago, and it seemed as though Mary was trying to immediately decide if their relationship was going to be a hostile one or not.

   “Of course not!” Foxy assured the girl, slipping his arm around her. “A filly is a lively young girl or woman.”

   “Also means horse, though!” Melanie chimed in helpfully. “But, like, I didn’t even mean it like that. I just mean Mare as in, short for Mary. I always give all my friends nicknames!”

   “We’re not friends,” Mary said.

   “Of course we are,” Jordyn chided playfully, trying not to grow concerned over the girl’s miserable attitude. “We’re all goin’ out to eat together, aren’t we?”

   “Yeah!” Melanie agreed, grabbing Jordyn’s wrist that was holding the cosplay contest trophy and hoisting it into the air. “We’re celebrating! I’m friends with everyone I meet, and you guys are all awesomesauce.”

   “I’m just with Foxy,” Mary said indifferently. “And, I don’t like nicknames.”

   “Hey, you do remember Foxy of fucking Loxly isn’t my real name, right?” Foxy asked in amusement.

   “It’s… not a nickname, though,” Mary decided after an awkward moment. “It’s like, a title.”

   “The title I go by is Synn, then,” Jordyn added with a smile, deciding to play along. “You can find my page under Synn Cosplay, online.”

   “Award-winning cosplayer; Synn Cosplay,” Foxy said, making a broad gesture with his free hand.

   “I’m Melaneko!” Melanie exclaimed. “I don’t have a page yet or anything, though. Someday I’m gonna have like, all the awards. Synn’s prolly gonna win ‘em all first though. Just look at her!”

   When Jordyn thought about why she was excited about going out to eat with them, she found herself in a strange, introspective mood. She could go for some pizza, sure, but she was far from feeling famished or really needing to eat. Years ago, she’d visited AnimeCon with a tight-knit crew of cosplay friends led by her cousin—but, in years since, they’d all drifted apart. She realized now she’d since then been rather envious of Brian’s little group.

  This is what I’ve been pining for, after attending so many cons all by my lonesome, Jordyn mused to herself. Purple slivers of pleasure and even larger shards of satisfaction glittered deep inside of her.

   Making new friends, ones that wanted to joke around and poke fun with felt great. Ones who also didn’t shy away from complimenting and supporting each other. Having these peers around with her after the contest made her small achievement feel like it had real meaning, made it more like a major accomplishment, and Jordyn couldn’t help but find herself feeling pretty moved.

   The convention experience on its own is great—and the trophy? A very pleasant surprise. But, neither really compare to having people to share it with, people to get attached to. Maybe even get involved with? Jordyn felt some warmth rise to her face at that thought.

   Maintaining her wry smile, she watched her continuously bantering new friends with interest as they progressed together out of the plaza and down the city sidewalk towards the pizza place. After her freshman year of college and a rather fierce crush she’d developed for a classmate, Jordyn thought of herself as bisexual. She’d never actually ever acted on any of that sort of curiosity, though, simply bottling up all those lovesick emotions as flights of fancy.

   Prooobably shouldn’t let my thoughts go there, Jordyn thought, toying nervously with the tongue piercing hidden inside her mouth. Yeah. Probably. Don’t want to make it weird.

   “I mean, didja see Synn’s guns, Mary?” Melanie continued, patting at one of the pieces holstered on Jordyn’s gunbelt in a rather familiar way. “She has both the cool guns from HellState. Show her, Synn!”

   “Maaaybe after we’re all inside and have a table,” Jordyn chuckled, swallowing. “Not a great idea takin’ them out and waving them around while walking through the city.”

   “Ooh ooh ooh!” Melanie distractedly exclaimed, hopping up and down and pointing towards a cosplayer waiting at one of the crosswalks opposite them. “Look at that shirtless guy over there! Look at how freakin’ buff he is, he looks amazing!”

   “Tsk, he’s not at all, though. Look carefully at his silhouette,” Foxy smirked. “He’s totally average, all of that dude’s muscles are airbrushed on. Painted, or whatever. S’fake.”

   “He’s Reyner, from Battle on Behemoth,” Jordyn noted, glancing from the distant cosplayer to Foxy with a bemused smile. Isn’t all cosplay basically fake?

   Their pizza parlor destination—a Marinos Pizza—occupied the corner of an intersection just several blocks downtown from the convention center, and business was booming. Despite it’s rather large size, they could see through the broad storefront panes of glass an interior already completely congested with people. Hungry customers, most of them from AnimeCon and many still wearing their cosplays, were packed shoulder-to-shoulder from the sales counter all the way to the exits, either lining up to place orders or milling about waiting for pizzas to be ready. All the booth alcoves wrapping around the outer wall were long since taken, and the central area of tables was filled in beyond capacity as well, some patrons forced to stand while they ate when the seats were all spoken for.

   “Holy cow,” Melanie laughed. “Wow.”

   “It’s like this every year,” Jordyn grinned, holding the glass door open so that they could all squeeze inside the establishment’s entrance. It was a tight fit. “Great food, though.”

   “Yeah, it smells great! I’m like, salvating,” Melanie tilted her head back to take an appreciative whiff of the smell of fresh pizza and then trying to hop up on her tiptoes to peek over the crowd of the jam-packed restaurant. “Haha. But, are we gonna have to go sit out on the sidewalk to eat?”

   “Don’t you mean salivating?” Mary grumbled. Despite pressing herself up against Foxy to make it inside the door, she was still forced into bodily contact with Melanie and looked none too pleased. “Foxy, I’m not eating on the sidewalk.”

   “Sitting outside on the ground, like plebeians?” Foxy smirked with confidence. “No way. I can score us a nice booth, easy.”

   “Yoroshiku onegaishimasu,” Jordyn flashed him a grin. “We’ll be in your care, then.”

   Pressed up against one another in the tight confines of Marino’s entrance enclosure as they waited was embarrassing but also intimate—they’d each met each other only a short while ago and were suddenly forced into sharing personal space. Melanie was the only one who seemed oblivious, absentmindedly bumping into Foxy on one side and then Jordyn on the other as she impatiently shifted back and forth.

   “Well, least the line’s moving fast!” Melanie cheerfully said as they shuffled forward a few feet. “Can’t wait to eat.”

   Her white cosplay shorts scarcely contained a rather plush rear end, an upside-down heart shape that bulged ever so slightly with each shift from leg to leg. Her entire outfit seemed to hide so little, and what was covered pinched at her skin in a distracting way. Not one to stand still for long, the teen was practically bouncing in place as she eagerly anticipated their pizza her sizeable breasts straining against the contours of that tight shirt with the ヤリマン text.

   What am I doing? Jordyn looked away, embarrassed.

   She’d caught an eyeful of pale naked boob earlier, when attempting to help fix Melanie’s disaster of a Blaire Bellefonte costume. At the time, it had simply been surprising, and that was it—but now, jagged clusters of purple crystal were emerging from the stony indifference of before. She felt weirdly mesmerized now, and fought to keep from stealing additional glances at her new friend.

   It wasn’t just Melanie, either.

   In such close proximity, it was all too easy to admire the slender lines of Mary’s neck, the way she tucked a wisp of errant hair behind one ear, those picture-perfect traditional Chinese features and even the adorable way she kept sneaking glances up at Foxy. If Jordyn were to compare the two, Melanie’s buxom profile resembled that of a girl drawn into a shounen manga—cute, busty, and full of energy, while Mary’s figure was instead something straight out of a shoujo design. She was beautiful in a reserved, delicate, and willowy way that was effortlessly feminine.

   Foxy was handsome in a strong, steely way, and he gave off the authoritative impression of someone comfortable with being in control of situations. Naturally exuding a masculine sense of confidence made him terribly attractive, but there was also a teasing sort of playfulness to it as well that sparked her interest. He was a cocky flirt and maybe a bit of a jerk deep down, but Jordyn didn’t entirely dislike that, yet.

   Whhhy?! Why am I feeling this way? Jordyn was baffled, struggling to keep her smile from turning awkward. Yeah. I’d love to have a chill group to convention with, but... what I’m feeling now is...

  Jordyn was feeling an undeniable response to each of them, deep inside of herself. A chemical reaction, a catalyst equal parts idle frustration and curious attraction. At first, it was just the faintest spots of color, back during the cosplay contest. Interest, maybe even fascination. But, as she examined her feelings now, she discovered intense vibrancy spreading within her—like a violet tinge blooming across quartz formations, until those crystalline structures were painted rich amethyst shades.

   Yeah. Okay, wow. So, I’m totally hot for all three of them? Her body seemed to be sending strangely overt signals as she stood pressed against them in line and tried not to squirm. Impulses teetered forward well past idle endearment and on the cusp of a raw desire that should have felt completely out of place in these circumstances. Instead, it just felt really intriguing, and it was hard for her mind to keep from exploring possibilities further.

   “Hey… do you guys like pineapple?” Melanie spoke up, twisting to face the rest of their little group. “On pizza.”

   “If ye like pineapple slices on yer pizza,” Jordyn imitated a deep, masculine drawl, “then, I hope ye like pineapple slices on yer children’s graves. ‘Cause yer weak. Your bloodline is weak. An ye will nae survive the winter.”

   “Hah ha, what is that from?” Melanie giggled. “Wait—do you really not like pineapple, though?! Pineapple is amazing! C’mon guys, back me up, here!”

   “I don’t like pineapple,” Mary pouted, tugging at Foxy’s arm. “We don’t have to do what she wants, do we?”

   “I was gonna get more than one anyways,” Foxy shrugged, looking from girl to girl in turn with open appreciation—a black beauty in award-winning cosplay, a beaming pale teen nearly bursting out of her too-tight shirt, and a captivating dainty girl with classical eastern features. “Hah, I’m not picky. What do you gals want?”

   “Uhh, geez—talk about double-meanings,” Jordyn joked, feeling heat rise to her face again a moment after realizing what she’d said. Oh shit, and now I’m flirting, too?! Somebody stop me.

   Her comment earned a burst of fitful laughter that had Melanie doubling over, a raised brow and meaningful smile from Foxy, and an uneasy expression from Mary.

   “I’ll go for anything not totally ruined by randomly dumping chunks of fruit on it,” Jordyn put on an innocent smile. “But, I mean, my vote’s gonna be for a meat-lovers.”

   “Geez, talk about double-meanings,” Melanie retorted.

   “I only eat pepperoni on my pizza,” Mary spoke up, crossing her arms in front of herself.

   Okay, so, I’m in this weird sort of... HENTAI kind of mood? Jordyn only barely managed to stifle a weird smile from appearing. I guess it has been a while since I, uh. Yeah. Seven months, going on eight months, now?

   “I’m cool with just pepperoni, too,” Jordyn compromised, wishing she could wriggle her way out of the antsy feeling creeping up her body. “My treat, guys? I’m unexpectedly up five-hundred dollars all the sudden, with that prize money.”

   “No,” Foxy flatly refused. “This one’s on me. You save your prize money for something special, you really earned that.”

   “Umm,” Jordyn faltered in surprise, blinking away sudden shimmers of purple from her vision and clutching her trophy tightly against herself. “You sure? I, uh, I don’t mind at all.”

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