“Are you sure you want to do this?” Berk shook him off.
“The first game was already cursed. We need to make sure the rest of the season doesn’t have the same issues.”
“Is Keyton in?”
“I’ve been told, and I’m in.” Keyton threw his duffle over his shoulder.
“Marisa is getting everything ready as we speak.”
“Hopefully not any food.” Keyton shuddered and held his arm over his stomach. “After her grilled cheeses, my ab workout took me a week to recover from.”
“What did we tell you about eating anything she made?” Berk laughed.
Keyton pushed open the door at the end of the hall leading out to the parking lot. “It’s cheese and bread! How in the hell can you screw that up?”
Most of the cars were gone. Although most people didn’t need a reason to party, everyone had been pretty deflated in the stands after staying on their feet for the whole last quarter, hoping the Trojans would pull out the win.
“Marisa finds a way.” LJ clapped him on the shoulder. “Can I catch a ride with you?”
Keyton nodded. “We’ll see you at the house.”
Those two took off.
Berk looked over at me.
The autumn chill in the air sent a shiver down my spine—or it could be the close proximity to Berk? I stared down at our joined hands. The same ones we’d been holding the whole time the guys had been there, while everyone was leaving the locker rooms and could see us. I’d braced myself for the cartoonish double takes. Questions about me being a little old to be a Make A Wish kid or even just a “why the fuck are you holding her hand?” from his other teammates, but so far nothing. Maybe I was just that good at fading into the background.
“What are you doing for the rest of tonight?”
Confusion had set in for sure.
“What did you have in mind?” I didn’t think it was what I wanted, because I definitely wasn’t inviting Keyton, LJ, and Marisa along.
“A little friendly competition.” That was not what I was expecting in the slightest after he’d kissed me so well I’d forgotten seventh grade algebra.
“Sure?”
“Was that a question or are you in? This is a serious game we play. Tradition.”
I nodded as he threaded his fingers through mine. A few heads turned our way, probably trying to figure out what exactly he was doing with me. I ducked my head and let him pull me along.
The engine of his car roared to life and I relaxed a bit, now safely inside and away from all the eyes at the stadium.
He drummed the fingers of one hand along the steering wheel, and the other—well, the other was on my leg. Fingers wrapped around my thigh, giving me a squeeze every couple of minutes like a reassurance that he was there. Like he was saying, ‘yes, I am touching your leg, and I plan on touching a whole lot more of you in the future.’ My whole speech about keeping things casual had fallen on deaf ears and I’d never been happier to be ignored in my life.
All this time I’d been trying to keep that wall between us solid and immovable, but I should’ve known Berk would be the one to knock it down, just like he did on the field.
Inside the house, we were loaded up with Nerf dart ammo like the Nerf zombie apocalypse was on its way.
“How are there this many different types?”
Berk stood in front of his closet door, which had them all arranged against the wall like a true arsenal. There were baskets for the clips neatly arranged under the wall of weapons.
“You take this seriously, huh?”
“I always take my fun very seriously.” He smiled while tightening the ammo loop over my shoulder and across my chest.
Somewhere in the house, someone blew a whistle and it was on.
“It’s every man for himself, since we have odd numbers, but I’ll go easy on you.” He winked at me.
“We’ll see.” We both took off out of the room.
Battle plans were drawn up—literally. We used shot glasses and the landing by the stairs to lay out the plan of attack. There was no messing around when it came to Nerf in this house.
With a battle cry from Marisa, we were off and the Styrofoam darts were flying.
Down in the basement, we regrouped for our second round, sweaty and a little out of breath. I wasn’t the only one drenched in sweat, and that made me feel better. We hid out behind the washing machine with our backs against the cold metal. I wouldn’t be caught dead crawling around in my basement—well, maybe I would be caught dead there. Some kind of monster or overdeveloped mold would probably grab me by the legs and murder me. Which was why I always high-stepped it up the stairs once I had put in a load of laundry and turned off the lights. But we were here with our Nerf guns locked and loaded, ready for the fight.
We were playing every man or woman for themselves, although Keyton was teamed up with Marisa. The mini-fit LJ had thrown when they both shot him in the forehead was kind of adorable. We had them on the run and regathered our ammo.
The distinctive clatter of an ammo cartridge hitting the ground was my opening. I popped up, leapt over the washing machine, rolled on top of the pool table to my feet and got them both from above.
They both cursed and groused. I turned my head at the slow clap from the stairs.
“You were like a gazelle. Damn, Jules. You leapt over the washing machine and then did a spin move in the air.”
Everyone stopped and stared at me.
My shoulders came up a bit, and if I were a turtle I’d have climbed inside my shell.
“Well-deserved win, then.” Keyton helped Marisa up off the floor.
LJ scowled. “There’s leftovers from Nix’s.” He turned and went right back upstairs.
“You kicked ass.” Berk’s words licked their way up the back of my neck. His breath ruffled the damp hairs at the base of my neck and sent a full-body shockwave through me.
“Not quite yet.” I grabbed onto the support pole beside me and swung around, letting one more dart hit him square in his chest.
He stared back at me, slack jawed, watching the orange and blue tipped Styrofoam fall to the ground. “You shot me.”
“You said it was every man for himself.” I held up my hands like I was helpless in going against the rules.
“Cutthroat to the end.” He shook his head.
“I have my moments.” I shrugged, twirling my gun on my pointer finger.
“What was the spin move you did right there? Looks like you’ve spent a little time on the pole.” He said it jokingly, the way they all teased each other, but I wanted to tell him, to share another part of myself with him.
He bent down to pick up some of the darts off the floor.
“I do have experience.”
He cocked his head to the side.
“You know. With the pole.”
His eyes widened.
My tongue felt like it was in knots and I was flustered. “With pole dancing. Not with actual stripping or anything. I have a pole in my bedroom; it’s skinnier than this one, but that was what happened with the leap and then with the swing I did right there.” I gestured to the support pole.
Berk stayed in his crouch like he’d been frozen solid and then he moved in a blur.
He grabbed my hand and tugged me up the stairs, the darts long-forgotten and dropped to the floor.