How We Deal With Gravity(32)
I nod my head in agreement, and step closer to her, reaching out my hand to shake on it. When she slides her soft fingers into mine, it’s the most amazing feeling in the world. Other than those few seconds when my fingers were on her face, the only other time Avery touched me was when she slapped me across the cheekbone. I like this touch a whole lot more.
She’s about to let go of our shake when I hold her grasp firmly, and step in even closer. I’ve got one shot at this.
“And if I win,” I say, my lips unable to contain the shit-eating grin on my face as I move closer to her ear. She’s frozen, and I can see her neck speckled with goosebumps, but she’s not moving away either. I lick my lips slightly, just to see what that does, and when I hear her breath escape, I know I’ve got her. “If I win, I get to kiss you. Like I was supposed to a decade ago.”
Her face is flushed when I pull away, her lips parted, and her eyes almost afraid—but her hand is still in mine, so I give it one more shake just to seal the deal. I turn away, and I can feel her still standing there, watching me. I wanted to kiss her right then, her neck is so soft and she smells so good. For the last five years, I’ve done nothing but have one-night stands and flings with girls who smell like smoke and tequila. Avery—she smells like heaven.
“Go on, princess. You wanted to go first,” I say, wishing like hell that I kept up with this game. I used to be good—even hustled a few of the locals when I was in high school. But it’s been years since I’ve thrown a dart.
Avery takes a drink of her soda, and I notice her hands are still shaking slightly when she tries to line up her shot. She’s nervous, and I hope like hell she throws this game so I can feel how soft her lips are. She shuts her eyes for a brief second, and when she opens them again, her hands are steadier. Her eyes are focused on the board, her elbow bent in front of her, when she releases.
Eighteen. Okay, so this is not going to be a walk in the park. Her next throw is only a four, and her last one is a ten, so I feel like I might have some room to breathe.
“Show me what you’ve got,” she says as she walks by with a little swagger in her step. She’s putting up a good act, but I notice the small quiver in her voice when she speaks.
I grab my darts from the table, and take a big gulp of my Coke, wiping my mouth across my sleeve like I would if I were drinking the hard stuff. It makes her laugh, so I got what I wanted.
“All right…let me show you how this is done,” I say, holding her gaze long enough for her to blink and look away. I’m smiling while I line up my shot, and I move my arm back just enough to give the dart some sticking power, and then release.
Two.
Avery is laughing so hard she has to actually cover her mouth. It’s one of those laugh-so-hard-no-noise-comes-out kind of laughs. Honestly, I love seeing her face like this. I don’t think I’ve seen her smile like this once since I’ve been back, and it’s almost worth losing…almost.
As pretty as her lips are when they’re smiling, I can’t imagine how they look inches away from my own…begging. Begging. Like I could ever get Avery to beg me for anything. But just the thought…
I have to shake my head to focus; I’m getting so worked up. Avery’s too busy fussing with the feathers on her darts to notice, which is good, because I’m pretty sure what I’m thinking about right now—the way I’m reacting to her—she would notice!
After a few deep breaths, I refocus, and line my second shot up. This one’s better—seventeen. One more big number, and I’ll be in the lead. I’ve got Avery’s attention now, too—and this time, there is no laughter. Instead, her bottom lip is completely tucked under her top teeth, and her knee is bouncing like a damned jackrabbit.
“You look nervous there. Might want to pull out your lip balm…you know, moisten those babies up. Just sayin’,” I tease, and she blushes instantly. She stands and turns her back to me, pretending to straighten her shirt and move the stool she was sitting on, but I know she’s really just trying to hide her face. I’m getting to her—and I’ve never wanted to win a round of darts more in my life.
Fourteen.
“That’s on the line,” she says immediately. She’s protesting—it’s funny.
“Let’s inspect it. Don’t you dare touch it until I get there,” I say, walking up behind her. It’s clearly a fourteen—the dart isn’t even touching any of the line. I see it, and Avery sees it. She sees it so well, she’s no longer breathing, but just standing there, staring at it, her eyes wide and her hands rolling her own darts in her fingertips.
“Well?” I say, knowing I’m right, but wanting to snap her out of this damn trance she’s in.
“Fine. Fourteen,” she says, turning around with a huff.
Okay, she actually seems legitimately pissed at me now. She throws three more low numbers, and the look on her face is so stressed, it’s actually painful to watch. We go on for five more rounds, and honestly only because I have to hit a five to close it out.
When I hit it, I almost want to lie, and say it’s on the line, just to give her a chance. I’ve gone from being willing to cheat—to win the chance to kiss Avery—to wanting to throw the damn match myself. It’s not that my feelings are hurt by her reaction to kissing me…well, maybe they’re hurt a little. But it’s more than that. I feel like I’m taking advantage of her or something, like I’m forcing her to do something she finds disgusting. I know that’s not the truth, but it just doesn’t feel right. There’s no delaying it, though, and the regret that spills through my veins when she turns to look at me—her face so f*cking disappointed—just about kills me.