The Failing Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #2)(20)

“I don’t even want to know what I look like right now,” she grumbles, stuffing her coat into Summer’s cubby.

“Your hair is a rat’s nest,” I put in helpfully.

Summer, who appears at our side, rolls her eyes and shoots me a hostile glare. “You’re not supposed to tell girls they look like rats.”

“First of all, I said her hair is a rat’s nest. I didn’t say she looked like one—there’s a big difference. Secondly, since when do five-year-old kids roll their eyes at grownups?”

“I’m seven.”

“Whatever kid. If you keep doing that, your eyeballs are going to get lodged inside your skull—permanently.”

Summer gasps. “No they won’t!”

“Try it and find out,” I intone cryptically.

The kid gives me another scowl so deep I have mad respect for her. “Nuh uh.”

“Yuh huh.” I raise my black brows. “It’s true.”

Violet clears her throat. “Okay you two, stop arguing.” She digs into the back pocket of her jeans and produces a twenty-dollar bill, tries handing it to me. “Zeke, do you want to get our tickets?”

I stare down at the money then up into her compassionate hazel eyes. “You are not paying for the tickets. Like I’d ever let you pay for our shit.” The idea is ludicrous.

I roll my eyes heavenward.

“You rolled your eyes!” Summer screeches, jumping up and down; she’s hyper—to say the least—and her long dark pigtails bounce as she hops around us.

“I did not,” I argue.

“Your eyes are going to be stuck up in your big, giant skull!”

Giant skull?

I glance at Violet. “Can you make her stop?”

Violet shrugs. “You started it.”

With a grumble, I jerk my head toward Kyle. “Come on kid. Let’s get the tickets and get bouncing so I can be done and get the hell out of here.”

Ten minutes later, we’re bouncing.

“I-I can’t believe I suggested this.” A pouting Violet boxes out in the corner of a red trampoline, legs spread and knees braced to steady herself. She’s determined not to fall flat on her ass. “You were right. This was a shitty idea.”

Nearby, Summer and Kyle are tiny jumping maniacs, hopping from trampoline to trampoline like frogs leaping on lily pads.

“Well,” I gladly remind her, giving her a few quick bounces with the heels of my feet, causing her to lose her balance. She lands on her back with a flop as I lightly spring onto the net beneath us. “You were getting desperate for ideas I’d be willing to try.”

She stares up at from the mesh, flat on her back. “You’re right. I brought this on myself.” Her arm goes out, palm extended. “Help me to my feet?”

I stare at her hand like it’s a foreign object I’ve never seen and have no idea what to do with.

Must hesitate too long because she stutters, “N-Never mind,” and tries to twist her body into an upright position. Only then do I react, my palm gripping her hand, pulling her to stand with too much force. She tips forward, bumping into me.

Beneath our stocking feet, the net bounces. We stand inches apart, so I have to bend my neck to look down at her. A little closer and she’d be flush against my chest.

I stare down at her pink lips, that crooked, amused smile.

“Zeke, watch what I can do!” A small, high-pitched voice calls out, giddy. I crane my neck to see Summer kicking her legs out haphazardly.

“What is she doing?” I mutter. “She’s freaking out.”

“She’s showing off for you.”

“That kid has zero skills.”

“Just watch.”

I point to Summer, gesturing to her erratic movements. “That’s not even a thing, whatever that leg kick action is that she’s doing.”

Violet laughs. “She’s having fun.”

“She looks like a klutz.”

She jabs me in the ribcage. “Tell her she’s doing great.”

“I’m not setting her up for failure by lying to her; that’s not doing her any favors. This is real life, not mamby pamby land.”

“Zeke watch me!” Summer shouts again, interrupting my speech. “Watch!” This time, she bounces and bounces and bounces, arms flapping like bird wings. “I’m flying!”

Her little feet have not left the ground.

“I don’t know, you’re not jumping high enough to be a bird.” My hand scratches the five o’clock shadow on my cheeks and I mutter to Violet, “I’m still not impressed.”

“Y-You’re the worst!” Violet chastises, but still, she’s smiling at me. “Can’t you be nice?”

“Fine,” I relent. Cupping my hands around my mouth to project my praises, I bellow, “Summer is the best jumper in the world! No, the universe! She’s a bird, she’s a plane, like a little godda—”

Violet grabs my arms, yanking my hands away from my mouth. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. You can’t shout swear words in a room full of kids.”

“There are parents here, too.”

“Never mind. Just start jumping,” she says, uncharacteristically shoving my chest, pushing me. She laughs when I stumble, tripping onto another trampoline, almost falling flat on my ass.