Title:           All About That Bass (Unf)
Author:          sheetmetal
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/PQfvxQ1w
First Edit:      Tuesday 29th of September 2015 09:40:20 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Last edit on: Wednesday 24th of February 2016 09:58:32 PM CDT

>"YO ANON, you have GOT to hear this!"
 
>You crack open a crusty eye, unsure if you heard correctly
>Someone said your name, waking you up from what otherwise had been a delightful nap
>What kind of scumbag wakes a man up on his way to a volleyball game?
>Particularly one against your rival school, CHS?
>Pulling your face from the bus window, you turn to the culprit and see one of the players from the girl's team looking at you
>And also headbanging to whatever crap she's listening to
>"Seriously man, you've got to listen to this!"
>She holds out her headphones to you, with a weird eager grin on her face
>The kind of grin the spells trouble for an awkward chump like yourself
"I'm good, thanks though."
>You put your head back against the window, hoping to nod off again before you arrived at your destination
>And then you feel the seat sink as another ass takes the spot next to you
>Looking up again, you see that same grin, plastered on the face of...
>Huh, you don't even know her name
>Lemon something if you aren't mistaken
>Meringue? Tart? Party?
>Some shit like that
>"Hi."
>Her leg is touching you
>Again, she has her headphones in hand, and holds them out to you expectantly
>You'd say no, but she seems to sweet to refuse for no reason
>Screw it, might as well suffer through her hipster nonsense so that you can go back to napping
"Alright fine, let's hear it."
>Rather than give the headphones to you, she puts them on you herself
>Intentionally or not, her hand brushes the side of your neck gently
>You shiver, and not from the cold
>Hearing obscured, you watch her mouth the words "Ya ready?"
"Go for it."
>She hits play, and you shut your eyes, prepared for your eardrums to implode
 
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OAdTbE9LAtY [Embed]
>You stare at her incredulously as she starts headbanging to nothing
>This isn't what you expected, not by a longshot
>She silently mouths the lyrics perfectly, while your head shakes from the bass
>And when the song has run it's course, you pull the headphones off slowly
"That was... alright."
>"That's it? Alright?"
"I don't know, I was expecting something less mainstream."
>"Good shit though, huh?"
"Sure. Was there anything else you need?"
>"Nah man, you just looked like you could use a solid pumping up!"
>She slugs you in the shoulder, and puts the headphones back on
>You don't believe it
>This girl woke you up so you could listen to a song
>A halfway decent song, but still
>What the hell
>You tap her shoulder, against your better judgement
"I'm awful at remembering names by the way. You mind catching me up?"
>She extends a hand to you, obviously prepared for a handshake
>"Lemon Zest, resident Libero and music enthusiast. Yourself?"
"You know my name is Anon..."
>"Come on man, I already introduced myself."
>Okay, you'll bite
"I'm Anonymous, resident right side hitter and shitposting advocate."
>You shake hands
>She gives you a cocky nod, and goes back to headbanging
>Lemon Zest stays next to you for the time being though
>It feels good, not sitting alone
>Maybe you've made a friend
 
>Not much later, the bus pulls up in front of another school
>Canterlot High, in all it's infamy
>The breeding ground of degenerates and scum, which every Crystal Prep student holds in contempt
>But you could care less about high school politics, you just want to play some volleyball
>The boys varsity team captain, Lazy Star, shepherds everyone off the bus impatiently
>"Let's go guys, we should have been here 20 minutes ago!"
>Backpack slung over your shoulder, you follow everyone off, and see Lemon Zest already outside the bus with her friends
>It's funny how you suddenly give a shit about her existence
>Maybe it's because she suddenly gives a shit about yours
>Or maybe it's just because she's cute, and friendly for a snobby private school student
>Since the boys always play first, she'll be in the stands watching you
>Silently judging
>Maybe even looking at your butt when you go up to hit
>You gulp nervously as she walks over to you
>"Sup Anon? You ready to beat down some Canterlot scumbags?"
"You know it."
>You exchange a fistpound, and the team starts heading toward the front doors
>All around are Canterlot students, milling about after their own day of classes
>Some glare at the posse of Crystal Prep players, obviously jealous of your talent and reputation
>Really, the only difference between you and them was the uniform
>Which you could do without on most days, especially the bowtie
>Next to you, Lemon's headphone's blare rock and roll nonstop
>Whilst she air guitars like a maniac
>Into the front foyer you all march, a round open area that houses the CHS trophy cases
>They don't have a quarter the collection of Crystal Prep
>Heehee
>Plebs
 
>The hallways get more and more congested with Canterlot students as you near the gymnasium
>Glaring and jeering intensify magnificently
>All the better for when these kids get btfo
>You enter the gym single file, bags slung over shoulders and necks craned to look around
>The place is chalk full of CHS students, most of whom are here because of homecoming week
>The air reeks of malice
>Lazy Star: "Get changed guys, I want to start warming up ASAP."
>You follow Jet Set into the locker room, but not before you hear a shout from the stands
>"Good luck Anon!"
>Turning round, you see Lemon Zest wave to you
>You smile and wave back, eliciting mixed giggles from the other members of the girls team
>And suddenly you feel awkward
>Darting into the locker room to avoid any further sperging, the sounds of the gym are drowned out immediately
>Only to be replaced by the drawl of your teammates
>Jet Set: "What's keeping you Anon?"
"Teenage awkwardness. You?"
>"Nothing at all. Let's get ready before coach has a conniption fit."
"What's the plan tonight then?"
>Trenderhoof: "Same as usual, run shoots and let them hit line. Which they can't do, obviously."
>They all chuckle pretentiously
>As you pull on a tank top and your shorts, you question why all your classmates have accents
>And not city ones either
>You're talking country club, high class, pinkie-out accents
>Like from Caddyshack, except not funny
>Once the team is prepared to play, you all return to the gym
>The girls team cheers loudly, only to be drowned out by a tide of boos from the other side
>Jet Set: "Chin up guys, remember, we have a reputation to protect here."
>You roll your eyes
 
>The up official blows his whistle, and Jet Set goes over to the coin toss
>On the other side of the net, some pretty boy with spikey blue hair  waits to shake his hand
>The gymnasium echos from the roar of the crowd and the thud of volleyballs
>There is definitely no way someone could listen to music with all this racket
>You turn your head to the bleachers again, and see Lemon Zest
>Your heart skips a beat when you see that she's already looking at you
>She waves again
>You wave back sheepishly
>"Anon!"
>Doing a 180, you find Jet Set standing next to you
>"Look alive, they're doing the national anthem before we start."
"Alright, sorry."
>On your side line, you and your teammates line up, as a girl with dark hair drags a cello to the center of the gym
>With her is some bacon haired broad, sporting a big ass cross around her neck
>Together, they do a fine job with the anthem
>Although, Crystal Prep would have done better
>And then the Canterlot Principal strides to the center of the gym, microphone in hand
>"Hello everyone and welcome to the CHS homecoming volleyball game."
>The crowd's rabble dies to a dull roar, for the time being
>"I trust that our Wondercolts will play with sportsmanship and respect, and make this a fun game for everybody."
>Looking across the court, you doubt that
>Nothing but glares
>After each of the Wondercolts in introduced to resounding applause, she introduces the Crystal Prep players
>It feels good to be booed
>And without further adieu, you huddle up on the court as the crowd screams at you all
>You face them, staring them down like the fortifications of Normandy
"Port side stick. Starboard side stick. Move fast and clear those mortar holes!"
>Jet Set: "Anon, now isn't the time for movie references. Let's play some ball."
"Sorry."
>"Anyway, 50 bucks to whoever hits that blue haired faggot in the face."
>Ah... bounties, the mark of true sportsmanship
>Maybe you can use that 50 bucks to take Lemon Zest out for dinner
>Hands in the middle, one loud roar, and then the game commences
 
>For the first time in it's history, Canterlot won something
>The coin toss
>So, they opted to serve first, giving Crystal Prep the first offensive
>And you get to stand next to Jet Set while you wait for the serve to come over the net
>Jet Set: "Anon, I've got an idea."
"Shoot."
>"Let's start with the Jet Set."
>You roll your eyes at the stupid name he dubbed his favorite trick play
>But across the net from you is none other than "that blue haired faggot"
>Time to make some money
"Sounds good to me."
>While Jet Set makes some hand signals to the other guys, you make eye contact with your man
>His jersey says "Sentry"
>When he sees you looking at him, he sneers up at you
>"Trying to intimidate me just because you're a big guy huh?"
>As their libero prepares to serve, you lean in to the net and whisper out the corner of your mouth
"For you."
>The ball is tossed and hit, and the Crystal Prep backrow immediately reacts
>With the fluid execution of a well oiled machine, Trenderhoof easily passes it up to Jet Set
>You jump, arm already windmilling for the ball that you know will be in the air with you
>The Canterlot players expect nothing, and there isn't even a block as you hammer the ball downward
>Straight into the chest of Flash Sentry
>With a resounding thud, it ricochets off him, into the crowd
>Cheers from the girls team, boos from the Wondercolts
>Your team smacks asses and the like to celebrate, while someone gets the ball
"Do I get paid yet?"
>Jet Set: "Wasn't his face."
>Oh well, there's still plenty of time
 
>The first game ends 25-10
>The second game ends 25-16
>Canterlot, unlike many other schools, doesn't go down without a fight
>As the pressure gets heavier, they only play tougher
>And dirtier
>Their fans ceaselessly yell during your serves, and timeouts, and everything else
>More than once you're tempted to go up and start punching kids
>Especially the Rainbow haired cunt in the front row who won't shut her fucking mouth
>But there is a silver lining
>Lemon Zest cheers your name with increasing volume each time you get a kill
>With the scoreboard showing 27-26, each team huddles up during a Canterlot time out
>Jet Set: "Come on guys, we have them by the nuts. Let's finish them off for god's sake."
>Trenderhoof: "It doesn't help that the crowd won't shut up during points."
>Jet Set: "Ignore them!"
"Easier said than done."
>Jet Set: "We have the serve, somebody just stuff their hit and then we can go home. Deal?"
"Deal."
>You break the huddle and return to your spot at the net, wiping some sweat from your head
>You taste salt, salt and fear
>Canterlot is terrified, but determined
>Trenderhoof sends a float to their front row, and it gets passed to the setter
>Eyes darting like a schizophrenic, you try to read the Canterlot players for where the ball is going
>And then they set Flash Sentry a high 4 ball
>You jump with him,throwing your arms up and pointing your palms left to their backrow
>With an immense feeling of satisfaction, you hear and feel the full force of the hit  deflect off of your hands
>Straight back into Flash Sentry's mouth
>And onto the floor
>You flex a pair of guns and spin around to your already celebrating team
"CRYSTAL PREP ROOFING COMPANY KIDS!"
 
>You share a moment of euphoric triumph with your teammates, finally having put down the Wondercolts
>Everyone is slightly concerned that it took so long, but you still won regardless
>Then you get in line behind Jet Set to shake hands under the net
>Each and every Wondercolt looks either enraged or defeated
>Some, humiliated
>Which makes no sense, since they were written off to begin with
>Flash Sentry tries to crush your fingers, determined to not show defeat
>You crush his hand right back, far more efficiently, making him cringe
>Once you're done mixing sweat with scum, you stride back to the bench to collect your bag and change
>Jet Set: "Solid work Anon, you staying for the girls game?"
>Lemon Zest is walking done to the court with the rest of the girls team
"I'll be here, yeah."
>"Cool."
>Suddenly, you get bumped aside, as an unfamiliar crop of Rainbow Hair knocks into you
>Rainbow Cunt: "Sorry."
>Her sarcastic sneer leers over a shoulder back to you as she goes to the Canterlot bench
>These kids man...
"People should know when they're conquered."
>You can't believe how butthurt these public school shitheads are
>What do they even have to be proud of?
>Jet Set: "I'll see you in the stands I guess."
"Yep."
>Crouching by your bag, you pull out a clean track jacket and your flip flops
>There's no way in hell you'll be putting dress shoes back on after all this
>As you stand up, you're suddenly grabbed from behind
>In one wild moment, you assume that a Wondercolt is trying to jump you
>Then you come to your senses, and feel what is unmistakably the chest of a female in your back
>Lemon Zest: "That was badass Anon!"
 
>You awkwardly pat one of the hands on your chest, suddenly aware that you're in the middle of a gymnasium
"Er...thanks Lemon Zest."
>She lets you go and you slowly turn to face her
>There's barely a foot of space is between you
>"You're staying for my game right?"
"Of course I am."
>"Be sure to make some noise, we're gonna need it!"
>And with that, she taps your forehead with a finger, and jogs over to the girls locker room
>You stand still for a moment, trying to analyse whatever the hell just happened
>It would seem that lemon Zest has some sort of invested interest in you
>Maybe one of the guys could shed light on it
>At the top of the bleachers, you spot most of your team already making asses of themselves
>You might as well join them until them game starts
>The gym is even noisier now, since the majority of the crowd only ever shows up for girls games
>Take 1 guess why
>You toss your bag on the team's pile and sit next to Jet Set, while the Canterlot girl's team retakes the court for their warmup
>Jet Set: "I'd bone number 20."
>Trenderhoof: "The purple haired one?"
>Jet Set: "Yeah man, look at those tits."
>Trenderhoof: "I don't know man, I'm liking the look of 17 myself."
>Jet Set: "The blonde? She was wearing a cowboy hat earlier."
>Trenderhoof: "So what? That ass man."
>Jet Set: "What about you Anon?"
>You don't answer for a moment, your mind is saturated with Lemons
>But you can't tell them that, they'll needle you for days
"I guess their captain's kinds cute."
>You point to the chick from earlier who knocked you into a wall
>Jet Set: "Get your eye's checked man, she looks crusty from all the way up here."
 
"True."
>Jet Set: "Oh shit I almost forgot!"
>He reaches into his bag and pulls out his wallet
>"For services rendered."
>Into your lap he tosses a benji
"This is twice the brad bounty."
>"True, but watching him eat shit was spectacular, so...you earned it."
"Thanks."
>"By the way, what's the deal with you and Lemon?"
>Your palms go sweaty in an instant
>Jesus, they weren't this sweaty the whole time you were out on the court
"I don't have a clue man, she just seems kinda interested in me for some reason."
>"Ask her out."
"Oh yeah, sure, let me get right on that Jet."
>"Don't be a bitch Anon, just go talk to her after the game."
>Initiating conversation with a female
>Your palms might be sweaty, but now your throat is dry
"I'll uh...I'll think about it."
>"You can use that pay day I just gave you to take her out for a bite. Or 6, if you're a cheap fuck about it."
"Maybe."
>Jet Set drops it, for the moment, on account of the Crystal Prep team leaves the locker room
>Unlike Canterlot, most of Crystal Prep's girls aren't curvy and small
>They're hulking masses of muscle, recruited from other schools to kick ass and chew bubble gum
>Except for Lemon Zest
>She's just a good fucking libero
>With a spectacular chest, unf
>Your eyes stay glued to her as she warms up with her friend Indigo Zap
>The whole time she's still jamming away to her music
 
>Like before, they dick around before the game introducing players
>And when Lemon Zest steps forward, the principal announces "Lemon Tart."
>Why did she lie about her name?
>Are you missing something?
"Hey Jet, I thought her name was Lemon Zest?"
>Your bud shrugs his shoulders
>"That's what she tells people to call her. She doesn't like her birth name I guess."
"Why?"
>"You should take her on a date and ask her."
>Obligatory eye roll
>The shit you put up with sometimes...
>The game starts, and you enjoy an hour or so of butts and balls
>The kind of balls you hit over a net, that is
>Canterlot's defense is fantastic, the Rainbow hair cunt is a killer backrow player
>But they have no height, and they suffer for it
>Almost all of their attacks come straight back, easily deflected by the she-males of Crystal Prep
>It almost hurts to see the Wondercolt's spirits slowly break
>Like the respectful straight shooter you are, you don't scream during serves
>Nor do you try to distract the other team
>Instead, you give a hearty cheer every time Lemon Tart (?) gets a good dig
>She really is a remarkable athlete
>It's odd though, watching her function without her headphones
>It makes her head seem a lot smaller, less defined
>However, it doesn't make her any less adorable
>Hell, maybe you actually will suck your nuts out and talk to her
>What do you have to lose?
>After all, you're already great at winning
 
>The match ends, far faster than you had anticipated
>Canterlot lost, of course
>Not that they didn't try
>Between the players on the court and the loud mouth fans, they put up a valiant effort
>But that didn't stop the inevitable slaughter
>You stand and cheer as the girls line up to shake hands after the game
>Lemon Zest brings up the rear, clad in her bright yellow libero jersey
>Fuck, she's too damn cute
>Bag packed up, flip flops secured, and jacket pulled on, it's time to go home
>There's business to attend to first though
"I'll meet you guys at the bus. I'm going to do something stupid"
>Jet Set: "Hey Anon."
"What?"
>He brings his hands together at the waist
>Jet Set: "Just do it."
"I will."
>You will, god knows you will
>Either you march your ass down there and talk to her
>...or you'll probably suffer oneitis for the rest of your miserable life
>Nah, fuck that
>You plod down the steps, flip flops making smacking noises as you go
>Lemon Zest is already at her bag, pulling out her headphones in preparation for the bus ride home
>She looks up as you approach, and breaks into a grin
>"Anon, my boy, how's it hangin?"
>Lemon Zest offers a fist pound, which you accept, bewildered
>So far so good, you didn't accidentally try to high five her
 
"Hey Lemon Zest, I was wondering..."
>"Yo man, let's go check out the school before the bus leaves!"
"Uh...I was..."
>"Come on, we don't have very long!"
>And before you can drop any spaghetti, she drags you to the exit of the gym, where students and parents are filing out
>The doors to the parking lot are nearby, but vacant hallways are abundant
>The Crystal Prep bus will be taking off soon, and if you aren't on it there'll be hell to pay
"What are we doing exactly?"
>"I want to try something out here."
>She practically jogs along, determined to get somewhere
>She's like a man on a mission
>And all you can do is follow in her wake, curious about where she's taking you
>For the meantime you don't need to worry about any sperging, at least
>Canterlot's hallways are dark and lonely, and the pair of you wander aimlessly, listening to the distant gym and your footsteps
>And as the world gets further and further away, you feel less nervous about all this
>More confident, even
>And then Lemon Zest stops, next to an alcove housing a couple science rooms
>"This is perfect."
"Perfect for what?"
>From her bag she produces a portable stereo, and then pulls her famous music player from her pocket
>One audio cord later, she's got them hooked into the wall, ready to drop some beats
>"These hallways are great for acoustics, and I can't get away with this at Crystal Prep."
"Are you serious?"
>"Yep. Now Anon, I have an important question for you."
>She approaches you, slowly, and puts a hand on your shoulder
>Your heartbeat triples
"Uh...what question is that?"
>Lemon Zest leans, and whispers to your ear
>"What song should we listen to?"
 
>What song?
>Your mind draws a blank immediately, since she's still practically touching you
>There must be a decent song to fit the mood...
>Let's go brain, think for a minute here
>Back to your ipod, in your backpack
"Does it have to have a ton of bass?"
>"Pick a song man, I've got a ton."
>At first you think that she'd be more into something metalic, something that makes eardrums bleed
>To hell with that, that would be autistic, given the circumstances
>Go for a winner Anon, get her in the mood for sappy shit
"Black Mambo."
>Lemon Zest doesn't say anything for a moment, then raises a knowing eyebrow
>She presses some buttons, and a moment later, the beat starts to drift from the speakers
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=49M1O2YgDfE
>The music fills the air like smoke
>Thick, delectable smoke
>Her eyes close as she starts to mouth the lyrics
>You gaze at her in front of you, as she starts swaying to the beat
>Your head starts bobbing involuntarily along with her
>She sits on a windowsill, and you slide down the wall opposite her
>"Good choice Anon."
"I aim to please."
>"So, you had something to say earlier?"
>Oh, shit
>You were going to ask her out
>Spit it out fast you dumb fuck, nobody is here to judge you right now
"You wanna grab a bite to eat some time? Like, after school?"
>You get a dry swallow in before she responds
>Lemon Zest smiles at you from across the hall
>"Hell yeah."
 
>Somehow, you manage to panic while feeling immense waves of relief
>It worked
>Now Lemon Zest sits idly, tapping a foot to the beat
>With a bemused smile on her lips
>"So, what did you have in mind?"
>Have in mind...
>Well Anon, you set the date, now you need to come up with a place
"I don't know, I didn't think I'd get this far."
>"Well, I've got an idea..."
>Excellent, let Lemon wear the pants
>It'll spare you the agony of making a fool of yourself
>"Do you go to the gym ever?"
"Like in school?"
>She rolls her eyes
>"No, like, outside school."
"Er, no..."
>"Well, Tuesday nights at the Canterlot Y, they have rec league volleyball."
>You start to see where she's going with this
>"How about we go and play, and then drag our sweaty asses somewhere afterwards."
>To hell with dinner and a show
>Dinner and an ass kicking sounds WAY better
"You want me to play ball against a bunch of middle aged men?"
>"I mean, we could just watch Netflix and chill instead..."
"Nah, I'd rather play against a bunch of rusty old timers. It'll be easy."
>You can't keep the sneer off of your face
>"You'd be surprised, and it's a lot of fun."
"I'm in."
 
>"Cool."
>A vibration in your pocket drags you from your plans with Lemon Zest
>You check your phone, and find a Text from Jet Set
>[Asshole, we're all waiting in the bus for you]
>Bus...
>FUCK
"Hey Lemon, we need to get to the bus."
>Her eyes go wide, as you and her draw the same conclusion
>Showing up to the bus together, after an unexplained absence
>"Whoops."
>You run as best as you can in flip flops, with Lemon Zest next to you
>Luckily, you kind of remember the way, and kick open the doors to the parking lot before to long
>The night air is thick from the cold
>Rustling leaves scrape along the sidewalk as a cold wind knifes through the parking lot
>Sure is Autumn
>The bus hums nearby, your teammates looking out the window
>Some look confused, others look amused
>A couple of the guys give you teasing thumbs ups
>Since Lemon Zest is behind you, you swallow your fear and get on first
>Lazy Star, in the front seat, is pissed
"Sorry coach, we were..."
>"I don't want to know Anon, just sit down."
>Your voice is a pathetic whimper of shame, at least you didn't get in trouble yet
"Okay."
>You walk to the back of the bus, feeling the occasional congratulatory ass smack from a teammate
>Jesus, it's not like you fucked her!
>Yet...
 
>You take the last seat available, and scrunch up by the window
>The spot next to you gets taken immediately
>As the bus pulls out of the parking lot, you look up to find that Lemon Zest has once again joined you on the bus
>She sticks a finger in your chest
>"You should have seen your face."
"Was it bad."
>"Redder than my headphones."
"Ugh..."
>She giggles at your humiliation, and you appreciate that at least she has thick skin
>The bus cruises through the grid of Canterlot, back to Crystal Prep
>The shadows cast by the streetlamps are long, and you sink deeper into the corner of the window
>Despite the cold, you feel cozy
>Might be your jacket
>Or it might be the girl pressed up against you
>Your gut says it's the latter
>Faint drum rhythms emanate from her headphones next to you
"Hey Lemon Zest, you mind if I ask a personal question?"
>"Depends on how personal it is."
>Your curiosity gets the better of you
"Why'd you lie about your name?"
>Her face breaks into a grin of exasperated frustration
>"People used to call me Lemon Tard, on account of my shitty grades."
>That's it?
>"I prefer Lemon Zest, it sounds better to me."
>You were expecting some sort of parental beef
"I mean, I guess I can relate, at least with the grades thing, kind of."
>"You proud of you name?"
"Sometimes."
 
>The conversation is kept at a hush, given the fact some people are sleeping
>And the rest could easily be eavesdropping
>"Only sometimes?"
>You nod, head obscured by your hood as you try to stay warm
"It's hard to explain, but sometimes being Anonymous is great, and sometimes it sucks."
>She looks at you with x-ray vision
"Right now though, it's pretty nice. I'm not going to lie."
>This time, you're the one who gives her a friendly poke to the shoulder
>For a moment, you laugh quietly with the lurid haired girl
>Either out of awkwardness, or the fact that you can genuinely relate to one another
>Lemon Zest then does something you weren't expecting
>Her head travels left, and settles itself on your shoulder
>A content breath leaves her mouth as contact is made and her eyes shut
>The action isn't enough to freak you out, you just pray that you don't have to initiate anything further
>You don't, it would seem, as she seems to slowly drift off to a quiet nap
>Her head is warm
>And you suddenly realize that no music blares from her headphones, she had turned them off to talk to you
>Lemon Zest, the girl who would kill a man over her music, gave it up on a boring bus ride...
>To talk to Anon
>Part of you wants to wake her up from her nap to make her listen to music
>What goes around, comes around, right?
>The conversation might be over, but you can read her like a book
>She likes you
>And you have to admit it
>You like her too
 
>The bus plods along, driving though a cold and dark city until it pulls up to Crystal Prep
>Outside the windows, you see the the gothic spires of the school loom down
>You've got to be a sinister fuck to make a school look this foreboding at night
>Outside the front doors, the only foliage is moss
>Moss, and junipers
>For a moment you appreciate the colorful leaves around Canterlot High School
>Public school kids get to appreciate a lot more color
>Back to the matter at hand though...
>Lemon Zest is snoozing up against your shoulder, and you need to get off the bus
>You shake her shoulder gently
"Lemon Zest?"
>She doesn't stir
"Lemon Zest?"
>Your team is starting to get up
>There'll be even more difficult questions if they see you and Lemon Zest like this
>You hiss at her, desperately and quietly
"Lemon Zest. We're here."
>"Just call me Zest or something."
"I...what?"
>The libero straightens up and stretches
>Your teenage eyes slide over to her chest for a moment
>"Would you rather I called you Anonymous all the time?"
>She stand up and grabs her bag, and you follow suit gratefully
"Fair point, Zest it is then, on occasion."
>4 hours, and you're already into pet names
>That's got to be either really good or really bad
 
>Your flip flops flip floppingly on the steps to the bus as you leave with Lemon Zest
>Some parents sit nearby in their SUV's, waiting to drive their kids home
>But a few, like yourself, will be staying on campus tonight
>"So, we still good for hitting the weights tomorrow?"
"Yeah, can I get your number, just in case?"
>Lemon Zest pulls a pen from nowhere, and scratches down 7 digits on the back of your hand
>The action is not at all subtle, and you stare at the clouds as she does it
>"There, if I get any dick pics I'm going to dump you."
>Despite everything, you find a roar of laughter leave you
"I wouldn't worry about that."
>A large, 4 door, F-250, spotlessly clean pickup truck pulls up
>An involuntary twitch leaves your right eye
>Cars like that trigger you into a tumbler femenist
>The window rolls down and you see a big dude with the same lurid haircolor as Lemon Zest sitting in it
>"Ready to go sweetie?"
>She turns to you first and extends a fist
>You offer your own, and fist pound her like a true bro you are
>"See you tomorrow Winner."
"Adios Zest."
>She presses a button on her headphones, starts headbanging again, and jumps into the cab
>The truck speeds off into the night, and you follow it's progress as you shiver in the cold air
>You wish she was still with you
>Footsteps come up behind you, and you heft your bag and turn
>Jet Set: "You good? I want to get to sleep."
"I'm good. And I've got a date."
>Jet Set: "Kickass, where to?"
"The gym."
>"Good. Your fat ass needs it."
>He laughs, you laugh, and you walk back to your dorm for the night
 
>You dump your sweaty day clothes into a bin on the way up
>Laundry is beyond your capabilities for the moment
>In your shared room, you curl up on the top bunk while Jet Set dicks about on his computer
>You're too tired to lurk right now, but you take a look at your phone before you give in to the night
>No green light flashes at you
>At least that fuck Gatsby has a permanent light to fawn over, you just have a black screen
>Maybe you should have given Lemon Zest your number as well
>Deciding that it's too late to try talking to her, you put your phone down and look at the ceiling
>At least you have a gym date tomorrow
"We have morning practice right?"
>"Yep. Coach wants us there by 6:00."
>Morning practice
>Literally worse than Hitler, unless you're /pol/
>In which case it's worse than Jews
>You look at the wall clock and see that you have less than 6 hours to sleep
"Well, I'm out. I'll see you in the morning."
>"Sleep tight, cutie."
>You roll your eyes shut at Jet's sarcasm, and turn over to find some sleep
>But sleep doesn't find you
>Long after Jet's gone to bed and filled the room with snores, you stare at the ceiling, deep in thought
>You can't bring yourself to stop thinking of Lemon Zest
>Her body, adorned with her trademark headphones and bent over to pass a ball, haunts your mind for hours, long into the morning
>And you can't fap yourself to sleep, since you're sharing the room
>It's frustrating beyond words
>You'll just need some extra caffeine tomorrow
>When you give up on sleep and sit in the computer chair, you just look out the window at the night
>Your eyes will get heavy eventually
 
>A buzzing from your phone rouses you at 5:00 am
>The sun is barely cracked over the school grounds
>Time for a morning walk to stretch out the old muscles and wake up a little
>You pack up your school shit quietly, to avoid waking up Jet, who always sleeps late
>A pair of sweats and a hoodie later, and your outside the dorm, ready to take an easygoing stroll around the school grounds
>As you start stretching out your calves, you hear the dulcet tones of your current favorite voice
>"Anon! My man!"
>Lemon Zest appears behind you, adorned with yoga pants and a runner's jacket of her own
>Behind her is a scowling Indigo Zap, who also wears yoga pants
>Oh God, thank you for yoga pants
>You'd greet her, but you doubt she'd hear it, given that her headphones are blaring what sounds like Avenged Sevenfold
>It seems like a storybook coincidence that you'd run into her like this
>Fate seems to be on your side today
>"I didn't know you run! I'll wait up while you finish stretching!"
>She jogs in place, and you debate telling her that you do not run
>You suck at running
>Walking is easy, you can walk until the end of time
>But big stocky assholes like you were not conceived to run
"Alright, uh...give me a minute."
>Indigo Zap: "You have one minute."
>You raise your eyebrows at the rude bitch, but keep your mouth shut
>It takes you about thirty seconds to yank the tendons in your legs as best you can
>When you stand up, Lemon Zest smacks you on the back, practically shouting despite the lack of noise
>"Alright killer, try to keep up!"
>They haul away, gaining at least 20 yards before you can blink
>A combination of surprise and libido keep you rooted to the spot
>After all, the best part of yoga pants is from behind
>Chase that tail Anon
 
>At first, it's not too bad
>You run after them, catching up due to your longer legs and sheer determination
>That same determination erodes with hastily over the next 200 yards or so
>Huffing and puffing, you do your best to stay behind them
>The earlier libido is lost in wake of shooting pain in your legs
>And back, and arms, etc...
>Yet somehow, someway, the girls are having a friendly chat while they run
>LZ: "I've actually been thinking about finding a job."
>IZ: "Bullshit. What do you need a job for?"
>LZ: "Something to do, I don't know, I get bored a lot at home."
>IZ: "What would you do?"
>LZ: "I wouldn't mind picking up a job at the gym. I'd start as a trainer for this guy right here."
>Her thumb points backwards at you
>Should you be offended that she thinks you need a trainer?
>Or rather, maybe you should fantasize about her being your trainer
>Your kneecaps are going to blow out if you keep this up for too long
>The lurid haired music lover peers over a shoulder at you
>LZ: "Hey Anon, do you have a job?"
>You have to moisten your mouth before you can choke out any words
"No I...don't...tuition...savings..."
>A few words coherent words make it out
>Lemon Zest seems satisfied by the response, and goes back to her conversation
>You hustle after them, choking down cold air, and then gasping it back out again
>It goes on for a while longer
>The only thing that keeps your feet moving is the will to impress Lemon Zest
>And being the winner you are, you eventually find yourself collapsing against the wall of the school gymnasium
>You did it
 
>The girls talk a bit more and stretch while you try to yank the invisible blade from your gut
>Everything burns, despite the cold air
>LZ: "Hey Anon, what are you guys doing in practice today?"
>Again you have to moisten your mouth in order to get any words out
"I'm dying against a wall here, and you're talking about practice?"
>Her cute little stupid contemptible face turns into a grin
"Like, my knees are going to implode in a few seconds...and you're talking about practice?"
>LZ: "Don't worry man, you did good for a first timer. And there's plenty of time to improve."
>You hear a whistle from the gym, and both of them look to the door
>LZ: "Gotta go man, see you after practice ends?"
>Your thousand mile stare of pain is locked on a point in the air in front of you
"Count on it."
>They turn tail for the gym, and you follow them, half limping
>Most of the team is putting up the net
>Lazy Star spots you and shouts across the gym
>"Anonymous! Get your ass in gear I want to get started!"
"Sorry coach."
>The locker room is already empty, and you strip as fast as you can
>You get your shorts on, run back to the gym, and get in the pre-practice huddle of teamwork and friendship
>Lazy Star: "Alright guys, today's hitting and blocking."
>The team nods
>Front row play, too easy 4 u
>"First I want to see 20 laps, yesterday you guys were a little slow."
>Your knees groan
>Across the gym, Lemon Zest is sprinting around the girl's court, jamming hard to her headphones
>Cue fast forward
 
>On your way to the locker room after practice, you're bow legged
>The chaffing is unbearable
>It actually feels like you're bleeding somewhere
>And luckily for you, you get to drag on your stiff, scratchy, Crystal Prep uniform
>Some of your teammates go with bowties, you stick with a plain tie, maroon
>It's as close to red as you can get, which is what you'd prefer to wear
>You 'walk' out of the gym, hoping to get to class without dying
>Lemon Zest ambushes you outside the doors, using you to gain some air as she pushes off your shoulders
>"How's it goin killer? Have fun in practice?"
"I'm always having fun. Can't you tell?"
>She looks at your scowling grimace of pain
>"For sure man."
>You walk alongside her down the slowly filling hallway
>A part of you tells you to hold her hand or something, but that also seems like rushing things
>Better by far to be a bitch and let her take the initiative on shit like that
>"So later, how about you meet me in the parking lot?"
"Do you drive?"
>"Nah, we can take a bus to the gym. Easier that way."
"That's fine I guess."
>You still have Jet's benjamin in your wallet, ready to be blown on a fun night of whatever Lemon Zest wants to do
>She points down a hallway that you won't be entering
>"I'll see you later, my class is this way."
"Alright, uh...I'll see you."
>You and her stand still for a second
>Then she slugs your shoulder and runs off, headphones already going onto her head
>You yourself, you take out your ipod and find your favorite walking around music
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P1QUZzeZoPQ
>Sometime all you need is some forlorn protagonist music while you stroll to chemistry
 
>Chemistry, first period
>You take a stool in the back of the room, at the lab table you usually occupy by yourself
>A few other students chat by the door, but you just wait for the bell patiently
>There wasn't any homework, thank god, otherwise you'd be screwed
>Into the room marches the teacher, followed by a reasonably familiar face
>Caustic Soda, an old friend of yours, sidles into the room and sits opposite you at a different table
>No words are exchanged between the two of you, not anymore
>You remember back in the day when you used to look up to him
>Nowadays, you avoid him like the plague
>There's still respect there, sure, you owe him a lot for everything he did for you
>But then he became a fucking maniac, and you couldn't bring yourself to hang with him anymore
>The bell drags you from your memories
>The teacher grabs a stack of papers from his desk that you recognize as the prior week's exams
>Let's see what the jury decided, shall we?
>"Anonymous?"
"Here."
>You raise an arm and he walks over to put the test in front of you
>"Twilight Sparkle?"
>You ignore what comes next, being so preoccupied with checking your grade
>43%
>Hmm...
>Better than last time at least
>Your teacher throws tests on desks, and sits down to sip coffee while students check the damage
>The girl at the desk next to you has her head in her hands, and looks like she's going to cry
>"How could I do so horrible? What went so wrong?"
>You crane your neck to look at her test
>98%
>Life sure is hard
 
>The irony gets a chuckle from you at least
>Nothing gets to you more than kids who take this sort of thing so seriously
>Although, you've heard rumors about this girl
>Some people say Asperger's, some say otherwise
>The hell do you care though, as long as Lemon Zest doesn't look twice at shit grades
>You prefer technology courses anyway
>Cue fast forward again, to the end of the day
>High School life is generic enough as it is
>You walk out to the parking lot, looking around for the lurid crop of hair that pulls at your heartstrings
>To pass the time, you check the weather on your phone
>The local station claims you're in for a thunderstorm
>"SURPRISE!"
>You're attacked from behind
>This time, Lemon Zest straight up vaults over you, pushing off of your backpack like a hurdle
>She lands on nimble feet and spins around to you, a happy look in her eye
>"Ready to pump some iron?"
"I'm ready as hell, let's get going."
>She bops along next to you on the way to the bus stop
>You've actually never been inside a serious gym before, so now might be the time to ask questions about it
"Hey Lemon Zest?"
>"Zest."
"Right...Zest. What exactly do I do at the gym besides volleyball?"
>"You could lift weights?"
>You and her sit at the bus stop, and wait for it to arrive
>Damn, it's cold
>Too cold for rain at least
"I don't really know how to lift weights though..."
>She looks at you like you're a retard
>"Anon, it's not some mind boggling enigma, you just go to the gym and do whatever you feel like."
>Whatever you feel like, that doesn't sound too hard
 
>You almost fall asleep on the bus again, experiencing a profound case of deja vu when you come to from the twilight zone
>Outside the bus, you see your destination
>It's a gym
>There isn't any fanfare, no flashing lights or anything like that
>Lemon Zest stands up and gives you a friendly nudge
>"This is our stop big guy, time to go."
>A little, anxious piece of you feels like staying on the bus, and riding it forever to avoid making any more decisions
>But there's also a big piece of you that can't allow Lemon Zest to leave alone
>Off the bus you go, making haste to avoid the cold air
>The front entrance has a one way sliding door, and you allow a couple families to head out before you
>Lemon Zest politely pushes inside though, obviously eager to get the hell out of the cold
>You follow her, gym bag over one shoulder and school bag over the other
"Excuse me, sorry..."
>Keeping up with her is going to be something of a challenge
>The front desk is manned by a squat looking Asian bro who looks stockier than un-milled aluminum
>Lemon Zest: "Hey Dumbbell, hook up my boy Anon here with a guest pass."
>An orange, muscly arm slides a piece of paper to you, and you fill in all the credentials
>Name: Anonymous
>Date of birth: October 1st
>Emergency contact:________
"Hey Lemon Zest, I don't have anybody nearby to call..."
>She scribbles down her name in the space for you
>"I'll be your contact, but if you get hurt I'm leaving you to bleed out."
"Great..."
>You leave the email and phone spots blank, they can eat shit if they want to spam you
>The guest pass costs ten bucks, and your evening funds are dwindled down to 90 bucks
>Asian bro isn't happy that you paid with a benjamin
>You shrug apologetically as you follow Lemon Zest into the guts of the gym
 
>A long corridor with basketball courts to one side greets you
>There's a huge number of inner city black kids playing ball and hanging out
>Not that there's anything wrong with that
>"How about you go get changed before we start doing anything?"
>She's right, of course
>You don't know much about gyms, but it must take a real douche to lift weights in a school uniform
"Where's the locker room?"
>Lemon Zest points to a nearby door that leads to the pool and showers
"Oh god, uh...all right."
>You take a step toward the door, hoping against all odds it's not as bad as your imagination is saying
>One deep breathe, and you step inside the locker room
>Dicks
>Old man dicks
>Everywhere
>The moistened, saggy scrotum of two dozen wrinkly old bastards hang out like state workers on a freeway
>And your gay eyeballs just HAVE to look
>It's like that one time you went to /b/ by mistake
>Nearby is a bathroom stall with a lockable door, and you duck inside as fast as you can without tripping
"Why."
>You address the toilet as you start pulling on shorts and a t-shirt
"Why me?"
>You look at yourself in the mirror, and flex a muscle
>It's pretty pitiful, to be honest, it'll take a hell of a lot of lifting to save your ass
>Either that, or steroids
>Speaking of which, there's a needle depository next to the sink
>It looks pretty full for a family oriented gym
>What have you gotten yourself into?
 
>Your eyes stay glued to the floor as you leave, fully dressed for the gym
>Lemon Zest is right outside the door, and you bump into her in your rush to freedom
"Sorry..."
>"What's the rush? Didn't you see anything you like?"
>Her shit eating grin let's you know that she knows
>She turns and starts heading to the stairs
>Her workout gear consists of a tank top and yoga shorts
>As a matter of fact, you DO see something that you like
>You hustle up the stairs after her, sneakers echoing on the rubber grips
"So, what are you going to do?"
>"Pilates."
"Er..."
>"It's hardcore yoga."
"Oh. Is that what I'm doing?"
>Lemon Zest stops outside a room on the second level of the gym
>"Take a look for yourself, knucklehead."
>You crane your neck around the door frame and look into the yoga/pilates haven of the Canterlot Y
>There's a lot of women in booty shorts
>In fact, the only non-woman looks to be the gay instructor, also wearing booty shorts
>Again, nothing wrong with that at all
>But the last thing you should be doing is creeping around a room full of half naked women doing stretches
"Right...so I'm just going to find the other dudebros I guess..."
>"Sounds good Anon."
>You rub your neck a bit, unsure what to do
>Lemon Zest takes pity on you and gestures further down the second level
>"Weight room is just down the hall. Don't hurt yourself."
>She walks inside, and you wave weakly at her back
"I'll miss you."
 
>You meant to say it as a joke, but it came out really desperate and lame
>At least she turns to give you a Costanza grin
>Hopeless is what you are, Anon
>You put one foot in front of the other as you try to find the weights
>And find them you do, along with all the dudebros you could possibly ask for
>Muscleheads, gym douches, every single type of guy who makes you feel insecure as fuck is here
>Hell, there's even that one blue haired faggot from CHS, doing bench presses in a corner with his fuckboi friends
>And in that moment, surrounded by knurled steel and medicine balls, you realize something...
>You have no idea what you're doing
>Like a deer in the headlights, you slowly step back
>Back out into the hallway, where an employee kiosk guards the entrance to the weight area
>Behind the counter, the bulkiest looking white guy you're ever seen sits, surveying you
>His attire consists of the typical Y shirt and hat
>If his shirt was any tighter it would split, and you aren't exaggerating  
>"Can I help you?"
>He says his words plainly, but it looks and sounds like he's shouting at you
"Um...yeah, I'm kind of new here and..."
>Bulky dudebro stands up, revealing a pair of pencil legs
>Skipping leg day isn't just a meme apparently
>"Say no more, what do you want to work on?"
>You're running out of ums and uhs, so you just shrug
>"BICEPS IT IS!"
>Great, that's just what you need right before playing volleyball
>He snatches up a notebook from a pile on the desk, hands it to you, and cracks his knuckles
>His neck looks to be a foot think, at least
>Resigned to your fate, you follow bulky dudebro back to the weights area
 
>"What's your name brother?"
"Anonymous."
>"Well Anonymous, we'll start with some bicep curls, and see where you want to go from there."
"Yeah, alright."
>There's quite a few guys using the weights, but nobody looks twice at you, except for Flash
>He gives you a condescending sneer from the squat rack
>Fuck him, you're bigger
>Just not in the arms, not yet at least
>Everyone else minds their own business, either too absorbed in their own lifting, or not caring about yours
>The feeling of being in the spotlight quickly goes away
>Upbeat alternative tracks flow out of the speakers in the ceiling
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=luZEKyoPDkk
>The gigantic trainer shows you the form you need, and hands you a pair of 15 pound weights
>"Start with these, once you've got the form we'll move you to something hard."
>15 pounds?
>Too easy
>10 reps later your arms hurt a lot
>You put down the 15 pound dumbbells and rub a vein in your arm
>"How'd that feel?"
>You lie immediately to not sound like a bitch
"Easy, am I swoll yet?"
>He laughs at the ceiling, and then pulls a pair of 30 pound dumbbells of the rack
>"3 sets of ten. Make sure to breathe."
>You hold them at arms length as he picks up a couple of 60's for himself
>With an already fatigued arm, you start curling
 
>Somewhere in the middle of tricep pushdowns you learn that his name is Bulk Biceps
>Kind of convenient how people's names keep corresponding to their jobs
>What kind of job does "Anonymous" entitle?
>And more importantly, who the fuck cares?
>You're certainly in too much pain to think straight
>Because after biceps, you do triceps
>And then shoulders
>And then chest
>You suck air and slowly turn purple as you find yourself trying to bench god knows how much weight
>"Push man, come on, it's all you Anon."
>Bulk stands over you, posed to stop the bar from snapping your neck when you drop it in three seconds
"Gargle wurblegarble."
>Words, nope, just pain
>Do people really do this shit all week?
>No wonder so many people choose to be fat instead
>Suddenly, Lemon Zest
>Lemon Zest: "How's it going down there red-skull?"
>Normally you'd compliment her choice of joke, but you're engaged in a useless struggle with physics
>The green haired girl takes a seat on your midsection as you fight gravity in vain
>She feels a little sweaty, but still quite soft and...warm
>Her sweet and cocky grin looks down at you
>And then gravity loses spectacularly as your arms surge with either testosterone or adrenaline
"REEEEEEEEEEEE-"
>Some cracked sounding shit leaves your mouth as Bulk helps you re-rack the bar
>You spring to your feet, the only part that doesn't hurt
>In the mirror next to you, you look at a crazed red-faced maniac
>With some swollen looking veiny arms
>You feel terrible, and also great
>Lemon Zest is silently mirin' behind you
 
>20 minutes later, you watch a crowd of inner city kids bloody each other in a veracious game of pickup basketball
>A squeaking a sneakers drowns out all other noise, aside from the occasional "nigga"
>Contact sports aren't your forte, you've always preferred a safety net
>Quite literally, in the case of volleyball
>The closest thing to bleeding in this sport is getting hit in the face by a ball, which doesn't actually hurt
>Adjacent to the basketball game, a few scrappy looking gym goers work on setting up the volleyball net
>"What do you think?"
>Your lemon flavored compatriot stands at your elbow, looking at you for approval
>Surveying the crowd that's gathered, you can't claim to be impressed
>Then again, you're used to your usual team of lanky volleyball players
"Look's to me like a ludicrous parcel of driveling galoots...ma'am."
>"Give them credit, they're pretty good for a posse of old folks and city kids."
>Nearby, a dude who looks to be about 60 stretches his calves
>His neat goatee and spiky white hair unsettle you a bit
>As does his gold tooth and mismatching clothing
>You fire a quiet inquiry to Lemon Zest as she leads you to where everyone's bags are piled
"Who's Count Olaf?"
>She turns around and laughs
>"That's professor Discord, he plays with us every once in a while."
"He looks like a pushover to me."
>Despite the fact that you're well out of earshot, you notice him glance up at you from his spot on the floor
>And he cracks a mischievous grin at the same time
>"Don't get too cocky, he can be a real bastard when he wants to."
>The gym door opens, depositing the blue haired douche and his buddies into the gym
>Old people, CHS degenerates, and city kids, what more could you ask for?
"I want you on my team, deal?"
>"Deal."