Ring Toss

Visually, sat next to one another, the two students in the back corner of Professor Johnson's Psych 101 class could not be more opposite.

The student on the left was a young man. Tall, black, and muscular, he almost seemed to struggle to fit into his desk. Dark, deep chocolate-toned and massive muscles strained at a white tank-top and long, toned dark legs stretched out of a pair of blue basketball shorts, unintentionally sat high due to the sheer height of their wearer. The legs extended beyond the desk, their owner leaned back casually in the seat, and met the ground in a pair of white Nike sneakers. His face was not that of a model but handsome nonetheless. Dark and purely masculine features met a sharp, wide jawline, and when he smiled, which he often did, it revealed a set of perfect teeth made blindingly white by the darkness of the skin around them.

The student on the right was a young woman. Short, white, and slim, she seemed dwarfed by her classmate. Bright ginger hair gathered itself in a loose ponytail about a remarkably beautiful face, made extra notable by the bright blue eyes it sported. Soft, full and yet carved pink lips sat beneath a small, cute nose, almost button-like, that had a tendency to blush red when the girl was drunk or cold. Despite this cuteness, certain elements of her face, such as the lushness of her lips and the dark length of her eyelashes, gave it an undeniably sexual tint. Beneath this, despite her slimness, her small body sported ample, soft features -- one of the first things her tall classmate had noticed about her. Ample, soft breasts pushed at the confines of a yellow t-shirt, slightly cropped to reveal a flat midriff when she stood that connected to her lush, pale thighs, partly concealed by a pair of blue denim shorts. Behind these, pressed now against her seat, was a plump ass, as lily-white as the rest of her, soft and yet naturally well-shaped.

The boy's handsomeness and the girl's beauty were the only physical attribute they seemed to share, though even this differed, as the student on the left carried only muscular, entirely masculine features, and the student on the right was entirely feminine.

Sat next to one another, in physical appearance, the two were so apart that it almost looked a perfect yin and yang.

Having had his eye on her from the moment she stepped in the class, the boy spoke first.

"Hey," he said, leaning over to her, "My name's Tyrone."

She looked up. He had extended a large hand to her, smiling widely.

The rest of the class was preoccupied in conversation -- behind his desk, Professor Johnson absentmindedly browsed his laptop.

She smiled back, though not as wide, and took his hand. Even this dwarfed her own, seeming to almost wrap around it. He had a powerful grip.

"Jess," she said.

"Can I be real with you?" he asked as they both returned their hands to their own desks, "You got beautiful eyes. Really."

Despite herself, she blushed slightly. Tyrone's smile grew in size.

"Oh, thank you," she said, looking down.

"I ain't even joking, really -- you're gorgeous. Like, I don't mean to be rude or anything, I just had to tell you, y'know? Damn, you got beautiful eyes!"

He laughed. Her blush grew deeper -- she silently cursed herself. How was she blushing at this? She'd been complimented all her life -- was she still not used to it?

She laughed a little.

"Thanks," she said, looking at him one last time and nodding before turning back to her desk.

Tyrone remained facing her. There was a moment of pause -- she could feel his eyes on her and the blush remained, bright and hot in her cheeks.

"Listen, I gotta be a little forward," he laughed, leaning on his desk, "I mean, you're gorgeous, I gotta ask. You single?"

She looked back at him and smiled apologetically.

"No. I have a boyfriend," she said.

"Oh, alright," he replied, leaning back in his seat, "That's cool, that's cool. We can be friends, then."

He smiled again. Something about it was remarkably charming and it made her laugh a little again -- she smiled back earnestly.

"Yeah, sure," she agreed.

"Your boyfriend a lucky dude, though. That's all I'm gonna say," he sighed, shaking his head, "Damn, he's a lucky dude."

She giggled. The sound was light and clear and it made Tyrone's charming smile grow again.

"So what you do for fun, Jess?"

"I play volleyball."

"Volleyball, damn, really? You'd look good playing volleyball."

She rolled her eyes slightly. He laughed again.

"I'm just playing, I'll stop, legit, I'll stop. Your boyfriend gotta be handsome as hell, you probably make a great couple."

"Thanks."

"Dude gotta look like Timothee Chalamet, he probably kissable as hell."

She laughed. He grinned.

"You're funny," she said.

"Yeah, that's my thing, I'm funny as hell. I'll tell you all kinds of jokes, girl."

She looked at him for a moment, smirking. She leaned forward onto her desk, supporting herself on her elbows.

"So what do you do for fun?" she asked.

"Guess."

She rested her head on her palm, looking him over.

"Football?"

"Girl, no. Look at these long ass legs. You think they got football uniforms for that?"

"How tall are you?" she asked.

"6'5," he said.

Her eyebrows rose.

"No way," she said.

"What you mean 'no way?' Yeah, I'm 6'5. How tall are you?" he asked.

"5'3," she said.

"That's a good height."

"Yeah, you too."

Now his eyebrows rose. "Yo, now who's flirting?"

She laughed, ducking her face into her palm.

He laughed with her. "'You too,' damn, you said that all sexy, too. What about my boy Timothee?"

Her face appeared again, resting her chin back on her hand. "I didn't mean it like that."

"How tall your boyfriend?" he asked.

"5'10."

"But you into tall guys?"

Another blue eye-roll. "No. I don't care about that."

"Yeah? How come 6'5 a good height, then?"

She paused. They looked at one another.

"Okay, height isn't all that matters," she finally said.

She looked away, back down to her desk. After a moment, she looked up and found Tyrone grinning at her.

She laughed. He laughed, too.

The two talked all period. Laughter continued to occasionally rise from the back corner of Professor Johnson's Psych 101 class in two peals -- one deep and hearty, the other a giggle.

-

Next Tuesday, the class met again. Again, the two students in the back corner of the class sat together, and Tyrone immediately turned to Jess.

"Yo, we should hang out."

"Yeah? What were you thinking?" she asked.

He shrugged his broad shoulders innocently. "Could hang at my place."

She gave him a wry look. "Funny."

He grinned. "Nah, just go out to the pier. Shoot some balloons and stuff like that."

"Sounds a lot like a date, Tyrone."

He frowned. "What, you ain't never go out to the pier with your boys?"

"I've gone with my girls," she replied.

"I'll be your girl. Let's go, girl."

She laughed.

"Nah, come on, we friends. I mean it. Friends go to the pier all the time, I wanna play some games with you," he said.

"Yeah?" she asked, "What kind of games?"

"Shoot the balloon. Ring toss. I don't know, ride a merry-go-round."

She studied him for a moment.

"As friends, yeah?" she asked.

"As girls, bitch, damn -- we homegirls!"

She laughed out loud.

"Tell Timothee you just going out with your big-ass, black-ass homegirl, that's all," he said.

"You know his name's not Timothee, right?"

"What's his name, then?"

"Steve."

"Oh, Steve," he said in a nerdy voice.

She burst into giggles.

"Steve, I'm going out with my big-ass, black-ass homegirls, we gonna kick some ass at ring-toss, you wanna come?"

"Stop making fun of him!" she said, still giggling, lightly slapping his muscular arm.

He grinned. "Sorry. He's handsome, I'm sure."

She waited for her giggles to die down, laughing into the palm of her hand, and then paused. She looked at Tyrone again. She smiled.

"Okay," she said.

His grin spread wide -- "Hell yeah, that's right. We gonna kill some ring toss."

"You better. I wanna win some prizes," she said.

"When's your last class?"

"Five."

"You wanna meet up at 6?" he asked.

She smirked.

"How about seven?" she said.

He nodded, still grinning as he leaned back in his seat -- it squeaked beneath his massive body.

"You got it," he said.

-

Two classes later, as Professor Wang dismissed his students from Fundamentals of research, Jess picked up her bag and left campus for her apartment.

Steve, being her roommate as well as her boyfriend, was there waiting for her.

"Hey, babe," he called out as she entered.

"Hey."

Steve, in contrast to Tyrone's own contrast to Jess, actually did look quite similar to her in many aspects. He, too, was starkly pale and slim in body, though lacking any of the suppleness and curve that Jess' own body carried, and also grew light-colored hair atop his head, though his own was blond. He was not, however, particularly handsome or beautiful in any way -- really, nothing about him stood out. There were times when Jess found herself almost forgetting what he looked like, even when they sat five feet across from one another.

Somehow, despite this, the two had been dating for roughly seven months now. He was sweet enough and decent in bed and having a boyfriend, anyway, was a good excuse to ward off guys hitting on her.

Was it?

She shook the thought out of her head.

Closing the door behind her, she made her way past the couch where Steve sat, heading for the bedroom. He glanced at her and then returned to watching Netflix.

"How was your day?" he called.

"Uh, it was good," she called back, "I can't stay long, I'm actually headed out to hang out with some friends."

"Oh," he said, "Okay. You know when you're going to be back?"

In the bedroom, she undressed, tossing her sneakers and denim shorts into a corner with her crop-top.

"Uh," she said, "Not sure. I don't know. Maybe eleven? We're going to the pier, so I don't really know."

"Oh, are you and Amy hanging out?"

She slipped into a black mini-skirt.

"Uh. No," she called back, "It's just this new person from class. They want to be friends, I guess."

She opened her closet door and arrived at the choice between two different shirts. One was a black long-sleeve, the other another crop-top, this one slightly shorter, leaving most of her stomach exposed, and blue with her school letters written across it.

Something told her to pick the shorter crop-top.

She paused.

"Oh, cool. What's their name?"

She picked it up and slipped into it.

"Uh, Tyrone."

She emerged a moment later, dressed in the crop-top and mini-skirt and now wearing a pair of tan sandals on her feet. She ignored the fact it was what she often wore to clubs whenever she was single.

"Oh," Steve said again, pausing, "That's cool. Uh, babe.."

"Babe, don't be like that," she said, "Come on. It's just a person from class -- it's not a date or something."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Completely. I even made sure before I agreed to go with him," she assured him.

"What do you mean, you made sure?"

"Like, you know, he was a little flirty at first but I told him I had a boyfriend and he chilled out. And then I made sure to ask that we were just going as friends and he said yeah," she explained.

Steve started to rise from the couch -- "Wait, he was a 'little flirty'?"

"Steve," she sighed, "Come on. You know that's just what guys are like."

"Yeah, I do."

"Not like that! He's a really cool guy. He's funny -- I think you'd like him!" she said.

He frowned.

"Babe, come on," she continued, "It's just hanging out with a friend who happens to be a guy. We're gonna play, like, ring-toss, it's not dinner or something."

The frown grew uncertain. Gradually, he sat back down.

"Okay. Yeah. Just, you know.. Uh. I don't know."

"Alright," she said, "I've got to go. I'll see you tonight, okay?"

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye!"

As she closed the front door behind her, she became aware of a little flutter in her stomach.

-

Walking down the boardwalk, Tyrone wasn't a hard person to spot.

He stood near the railing, towering over most other people's heads. Of course, for Jess, even getting to see such an easy target as Tyrone proved hard at times, as other people significantly taller than her were constantly passing through her field of vision.

In the end, Tyrone spotted her before she could surprise him. He smiled widely, lifting a long, muscular arm into the air in greeting.

She chuckled and waved back.

"Damn," he said as she approached, "I gotta say it, you look good. That skirt is nice."

"Thanks, Tyrone," she replied, smiling.

"Yeah, now you compliment me -- go ahead, I look good as hell, huh?"

She laughed.

"You're wearing the same thing you were wearing in class," she said.

"Yeah, but I wear it right, don't I? Come on, I look good."

She rolled her eyes. She looked up at him, their height difference causing her to have to tilt her head back, her face eye-level with the lower section of his broad chest.

A tingle of arousal ran through her, looking up at him like this, his massive body looming above her.

"Yeah, you look good," she said.

"Thank you," he replied, "You look good as hell, but I mean, I look good. I look sexy."

She laughed. He smirked, enjoying that sound.

"Come on," he said, "Let's go play some games."

They walked the boardwalk together, sticking close amidst the active crowd. Beyond the railing, the sea spread vast and black and expansive, and above, the stars glimmered. They kept chatting and Tyrone kept making her laugh. It was nice, walking beside someone this big, the way he swept through the traffic of the crowd -- behind his huge form, she felt protected from anything by an impenetrable wall. She continually found her eyes drawn to the movement of the muscles in his back, barely hidden beneath the thread of the tank-top, and when she wasn't looking there, she caught herself staring at the great, dark bulges of the muscle in his powerful arms, defined and shining perfectly in the boardwalk lamplight.

"Yo, look, ring-toss. Just like I promised," he suddenly said.

They walked up to the booth together -- a small cloth tent over a sandpit with three metal rods of differing heights lined in a row, and along the back wall of the tent, three shelves of differing rewards. An old man with a bushy moustache sat beside it, boredly selling tickets.

Tyrone bought them two tickets and the old man handed them their metal rings. They took their place at the edge of the sandpit.

"You go first, go ahead," Tyrone said.

The old man had given them each four rings. Jess' first two landed unceremoniously in the sand, not particularly near any one of the three poles. Her third flew straight into the second pole -- she gasped out loud -- and ricocheted off onto the wood of the boardwalk.

Tyrone was laughing -- "Hold on, I got it, I got it."

He jogged back into the stream of crowd traffic and retrieved the ring, returning and delicately setting it in the sand.

"You got one more try, girl, you better nail it."

She threw her fourth and final ring. It shimmered in the air before encircling and sliding down the second pole.

She squealed.

"Yo!" Tyrone exclaimed, laughing again, "You got that shit! Come on!"

He held his hand up at chest height for a high five and she eagerly smacked it with her own, laughing happily.

"Alright, now let me show you what's up.."

In rhythmic order, Tyrone threw his four rings one by one. They each slid perfectly down the third pole.

He turned to Jess, grinning wide. She scoffed, a smirk playing at the edges of her lips.

"How many girls do you take here?" she asked.

"Girls?" he said, "Shit, I thought I took my friends here."

He winked, still grinning. She rolled her eyes but her smirk remained.

"Alright, which one you want?" Tyrone asked, turning to the rewards shelves.

Jess thought for a moment. Finally, she pointed to a small plastic figurine of a bull, its horns raised.

"She want that one, man," Tyrone said to the old man.

Sighing, the old man rose and retrieved the bull from the second shelf. He shuffled towards the two with the toy in his hand, but before he could give it to Jess, Tyrone held out one large palm.

"Right here, man, hold on," he said.

The old man gave him the toy and sat back down.

Tyrone turned back around to Jess. She looked up at him, confused.

He grinned.

"Tell you what," he said, "Since you lost and all, I'll give you the toy.."

He extended his arm above his head, holding the small plastic bull high in the air.

"..Soon as you admit you like tall dudes."

Her mouth opened in disbelief. She looked away, scoffing.

Finally, she looked back up at him, a satisfied smile on her face.

"I like tall guys as much as I like any guy," she said

"Nah, come on!" he said.

He started strolling away, the bull still held above his head. Jess hurried after him.

"Tyrone, put down the toy, you look crazy!" she whispered.

"Nah, what? I can't hear you down there, shortie."

"Oh my God."

He laughed. He waved the bull in the air, still strolling as Jess struggled to keep up with his long-legged pace.

"Tyrone!" she hissed.

He kept walking. Passerby in the crowd stared at the huge black man waving the toy bull over his head, accompanied by a tiny ginger girl trying to keep up for dear life.

She exhaled.

"Okay! Okay, stop!" she said.

He abruptly stopped -- she barely avoided colliding into him. He turned around, looking down at her with a giant smirk as he continued to hold the toy up in the air.

"What up, shortie? You got something to say?" he asked.

"I like tall guys, okay?"

"How come?"

"What?" she asked.

"How come you like tall guys?"

She looked around as if searching for an answer. She looked back up at him.

"I don't know, because it's hot?" she said.

"Yeah?" he replied.

Her face burned. Tyrone smirked as he watched her cheeks and nose go bright red.

"Yeah," she said, "It's hot when a guy's a lot taller than me.."

The smirk transitioned into a smile. He lowered his arm and finally handed her the plastic toy bull.

"Hey, I get it," he said, "I like it when a little white girl's way shorter than me."

If it was possible, her cheeks burned brighter. Tyrone laughed loudly.

"I got you blushing," he said.

"Shut up!" she protested, slapping his chest with both hands, "Oh my God.."

The two continued down the boardwalk, playing more random carnival games as the night went on. Occasionally the vendors insisted they take a prize, but Jess insisting she didn't want any more, they set these down in random places once they had gone on for someone else to find. She kept the tiny bull in her right hand, oddly fond of it.

Eventually, they agreed they were both thirsty and headed for a food vendor. They got two sodas and leaned against the railing.

"So, Jess," Tyrone spoke, setting his soda down beside him, "You ever been with a black dude?"

"Oh my God, Tyrone," she moaned, putting a hand over her face again.

"What? Come on, that's an easy one."

She sighed. "No. I haven't."

"You into black dudes?"

"I don't know. Not more than anyone else, I guess."

He thought about that. He laughed. "Like, you mean, not more than anyone else is, or not more than any other dudes?"

"Tyrone.."

He shrugged, taking a sip of his soda. "Just asking."

Jess chuckled. "If Steve knew that I was having this conversation with you right now.."

"What, he don't like big black dudes flirting with his girl?" Tyrone asked.

"Definitely not if he knew they looked like you.."

Tyrone grinned again. "What you mean?"

Jess scoffed, looking up at him.