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[Mini Story] The Spelling Bee Champion

Published: December 29th 2024, 1:07:35 am

Hi Hi ✨

A romantic little tale I've been wanting to write! T3&4 members, check your folders for those extra images. Little heads up - got some bonus stories coming this weekend! January schedule dropping soon too, kicking off 2025 with some changes. Want to get in on custom commissions? Still time to hop on tiers 2, 3 or 4!

📦 Grab the full res images from the attachment section of this post. ⬇️

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The Spelling Bee Champion

"So, do you want to come up for a coffee?" Megan asked, her keys jingling in her hand as she stood by her building's entrance. Even in the dim evening light, her impressive frame made Mason feel small despite his decent 5'11" height.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Mason managed, trying not to sound too eager. The date had gone surprisingly well - dinner at a casual Thai place where they'd bonded over their shared love of terrible sci-fi movies and their mutual hatred of LinkedIn culture. He'd been nervous at first, not every day you go on a date with someone who towers over you by more than a foot, but Megan's easy laugh and genuine interest in his terrible puns had helped him relax.

Following her up the stairs to her third-floor apartment, Mason found himself rehearsing gym-related conversation topics in his head. He'd been going to the gym semi-regularly for the past year, nothing serious, but enough to know his way around a weight room. Surely that would give them something to talk about, given her obvious strength.

"Make yourself comfortable," Megan said as she unlocked her door. "The coffee maker's a bit temperamental, but it does the job."

Mason stepped into a cozy apartment and immediately his eyes were drawn to a worn photograph on the wall. It was clearly from the '70s, the colors slightly faded, showing a young Megan at what looked like a school event. Even then, she'd been impressively built - her t-shirt stretched across broad shoulders, powerful arms holding up a small trophy that looked almost comically diminutive in her grip. But what struck him most was how natural it looked - she wasn't posing or flexing, just standing there with a bright smile, already towering over everyone else in the frame.

"Is this you?" he asked, moving closer to the photo.

"Oh yeah," Megan laughed, looking over from the kitchen. "Grade school spelling bee. Mom insisted on taking pictures of everything back then. You should see the ones from my ballet recital phase - talk about a fish out of water!"

Mason studied the photo more carefully. "Must have started training pretty young, huh?"

"Training?" Megan looked confused for a moment, then understanding dawned on her face. She let out a snort of laughter that fogged up her glasses. "Oh! No, no - I've never been into working out. That's just... me. Always been built like this, even back then."

Mason turned to look at her, brow furrowed. "But..." he gestured vaguely at her impressive physique.

"I know what you're thinking," she smiled, easily reaching up to grab mugs from a high shelf that Mason would have needed a stepladder to access. "Everyone assumes I must live at the gym or something. But honestly, I spend most of my free time either watching X-Files reruns or trying to teach myself guitar. Not very successfully, I might add."

Looking around the apartment now, Mason noticed there was no workout equipment in sight, not even a single dumbbell. Instead, the space was filled with houseplants, a collection of well-worn paperbacks, and what looked like a half-finished puzzle on the coffee table.

"That's... surprising," Mason admitted, accepting the coffee mug she handed him. "I mean, not that you can't have other hobbies, just..." He trailed off, realizing he was probably putting his foot in his mouth.

"Just that someone my size must spend all their time pumping iron?" Megan finished, a teasing smile playing on her lips. She settled onto her reinforced couch, which creaked slightly under her weight despite its sturdy construction.

Mason felt his face heat up. "Sorry, I didn't mean to assume. It's just, you look like you could probably bench press my Honda Civic, and I thought..."

"That I must be some kind of bodybuilder?" She took a sip of her coffee, looking thoroughly entertained by his discomfort. "Nope. The closest I've ever gotten to anything athletic was that one time I agreed to help my friend move her apartment. Ended up carrying the couch by myself up three flights of stairs because it was faster that way."

Mason sat down in an armchair, trying to process this information. "So you've never actually..."

"Trained? Competed? Nope." Megan set her coffee down and stretched, her movement causing the overhead light fixture to sway slightly. "I'm just naturally like this. Same as my mom and my sisters. Though I did briefly consider joining the basketball team in high school, but only because everyone wouldn't stop asking me why I wasn't on it."

"That must have been... interesting," Mason said, genuinely curious now. "Growing up like that, I mean."

"Oh god, don't get me started on the clothes shopping drama," Megan rolled her eyes, her bangs falling across her glasses. "Try finding a prom dress in '85 when you're seven feet tall and built like She-Hulk. Mom ended up having to make mine from scratch. It actually turned out pretty good, except for the part where I accidentally ripped the sleeves while dancing to 'Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go.'"

Mason couldn't help but laugh at the mental image. "Please tell me there are photos of that."

"Somewhere in my mom's albums, probably. Though I've done my best to hide them." She grinned, then reached for her guitar. "Want to hear how badly I massacre 'Smells Like Teen Spirit'?"

"Absolutely," Mason replied, finding himself relaxing again. As Megan attempted to position her fingers on the too-small fretboard, he realized he'd been an idiot for trying to stick to safe, assumption-based conversation topics. The real Megan - terrible at guitar, lover of sci-fi, spelling bee champion - was far more interesting than the gym-obsessed amazon he'd imagined.

"Fair warning," she said, adjusting her glasses with one hand while holding the guitar in the other, "this might be physically painful to listen to."

"Can't be worse than my karaoke version of 'Ice Ice Baby,'" Mason offered, settling in for what promised to be an entertainingly awful performance.

As Megan launched into a hilariously off-key rendition of the Nirvana classic, occasionally having to stop to check finger positions in her beginner's guitar book, Mason found himself thinking that this was definitely not how he'd expected his evening to go - and he couldn't be happier about that fact.

The impromptu concert was interrupted by a loud snap as one of the guitar strings gave up the ghost.

"Oops," Megan winced, looking at the broken string. "That happens a lot, actually. I think I need to find a sturdier guitar."

"Or maybe start a new trend of giant guitars," Mason suggested. "Could be the next big thing in music. Move over, grunge - here comes huge!"

"Was that a size pun?" Megan raised an eyebrow, trying to look stern but failing to hide her smile.

"Maybe," Mason grinned. "Too on the nose?"

"Speaking of noses," Megan set the guitar aside carefully, "yours is doing this cute little crinkle thing when you try not to laugh at my terrible playing."

Mason felt his face heat up again, but for entirely different reasons this time. "Yeah? Well, your nose does this adorable scrunch thing when you're concentrating on the chord diagrams. Makes your glasses slide down a bit."

"Careful there," Megan leaned forward, her movement causing the coffee table to slide back slightly. "Keep complimenting me like that and I might have to ask you out again."

"I think I could handle that," Mason replied, surprising himself with his boldness. "Though maybe next time we skip the part where I make awkward assumptions about your hobbies?"

"Are you kidding? That was the best part!" Megan laughed. "The look on your face when you saw that old photo... priceless!"

As they settled into comfortable conversation, the broken guitar forgotten, Mason found himself thinking that sometimes the best dates are the ones that completely upend your expectations. And if those expectations happened to be upended by a seven-foot-tall woman who couldn't play guitar to save her life but could spell 'onomatopoeia' without hesitation? Well, that just made for a better story.