How We Deal With Gravity(31)
I was glad to see the boys. It’s been a couple of weeks since we all split, trying to make sense of the label dumping us. Matt and Josh drove around the country for a few days—they’re both originally from Indiana, so they spent some time with their families. Ben had planned on coming home with me, but he got hooked up with some girl in Texas and well….
I can see Avery moving back and forth, from the kitchen to the bar, and back again. She’s busying herself, helping out others on purpose, just to avoid spending time with me. I catch Cole’s attention while she’s in the kitchen.
“Hey, man,” I say, nodding toward the door. “She’s avoiding me. I just wanna talk. Help a brother out?”
Cole smiles big, and just gives me a nod, letting me know he gets what I’m asking. Cole’s a good-looking dude, and I feel okay admitting that. I wondered at first if he and Avery ever had a thing, but it’s clear they haven’t. And I don’t get the sense that there’s really any interest either way. When Avery comes back out, Cole stops her before she starts loading up more dishes for the back.
“Ave, if you do all my work, then I won’t have a job. So…how about you let me finish this up?” he asks. She turns to look at me immediately, and then back at Cole, biting on the inside of her cheek. She knows I put him up to this, she’s just deciding whether or not she wants to play along.
“All right, you sure?” she says, drying her hands on the bar towel.
“I’m sure, Ave. I’m sure,” Cole says, almost like he’s giving her permission. I see her shoulders rise and fall with her deep breath, and when she turns to me, she looks like she’s in line for the world’s scariest roller coaster.
“One drink. That’s it,” I say, walking closer to her and crossing my heart with my right hand.
“Fine, but I get to pick the drink,” she says, moving away from me and behind the bar. When she comes back with two Cokes, I just about lose it.
“Ha! Seriously, this is your idea of a big night out. Damn, girl…I’ve gotta teach you a few things,” I say, lifting the straw and inspecting it. “Is that…a bendy straw?”
“It sure is,” she says, bending hers and taking a big sip. Shit, her drink is already a third of the way gone.
“Alrighty then. Well…how about we shoot some darts,” I ask, trying to come up with anything that will slow her ass down.
“Sure. Whatever,” she says, brushing me with her shoulder when she passes. She’s trying so hard to keep this front up. It’s really cute, but it’s frustrating as hell.
I follow her to the billiards room and open up one of the cabinets, pulling out the metal darts. Ray never went electronic with anything. He always said it ruined the authenticity, and I tend to agree. These darts are the same ones I learned to throw when I was nine years old. They’re still crazy sharp, though. I take a small sip of my Coke and laugh under my breath. I should have known Avery would have found a way around this—a loophole!
“So, what are we playing, first one to zero from three hundred?” I ask, thinking that this game could go on for at least 30 minutes.
“I can’t be here that long, Mason. Let’s do two hundred,” she already looks put out, and it’s killing me. I don’t know how I’m going to make this girl turn a corner with me, but damn it, something’s got to get inside her head.
“Two hundred…okay. But…we’re playing to zero exactly,” I say, knowing that throwing a little strategy in—and making both of us end our score at exactly zero—might just buy me a few extra minutes.
Avery’s eyes are squinted, and she’s studying me. I hate that every time we interact she puts our entire exchange through a litmus test. I can see her physically questioning my every motive. It’s my fault she’s like this with me. And I’m starting to wonder if it’s my fault that she’s like this with her entire goddamned life.
“Fine, we’ll play your way. I’m shooting first. Give me the gold,” she’s got a little fire in her voice. Suddenly, Avery’s got a competitive spirit going on. This…I can use!
“You can be gold. But—” I hold the darts back before I give them to her. She flips her hair around and stops her feet right in their tracks.
“No more buts. Just throw the damn darts when I’m done, Mason,” she says, and I can’t help but laugh at her version of bossy. No doubt, Avery is a strong woman—and I know from experience that she can get her point across when she needs to. But now she’s just being difficult to be mean, to get back at me. And while I should pretend it’s working, I just can’t hold my laughter in.
Her hands are on her hips now, and she’s forcing her lips tight. I know she’s about to bail on the entire night. I manage to hold my breath long enough to compose myself, and hold my hands up to signify a truce.
“We need to have something to play for. That’s all,” I say, and she immediately gives me a sideways glance, her suspicion spiking again.
“Fine, if I beat you, you do all my dishes—here and at home—for the next week,” she’s proud of herself with this one, and the smirk on her face shows me she thinks I’ll back off, not wanting to do any hard work. She should know better, though—I’ve never been afraid of hard work, especially at the bar.