Superfan (Brooklyn #3)(51)

“Uh-oh,” Leo says as she climbs down. “Please tell me you didn’t really get a dunking tank.”

“Oh, I absolutely did. You’re wearing swim trunks, anyway.”

Leo sighs. “Did you take any practice shots during setup?”

“What do you think?” Georgia asks.

He gets up without her.

“Where are you going?” Georgia calls as Leo turns away.

“To get towels. Duh. See you over there.”





“Georgia is clearly a genius,” I tell Delilah as we stroll down the impromptu midway. There’s a ring toss, Skee-Ball, and a booth with pop guns capable of firing corks at a stack of soda cans. It’s all set up on the vast lawn in front of the mansion house.

The air smells like warm wind and sea salt. And nearly everyone I care about in the world is standing around me, their faces lit by candle torches and tiny string lights.

Delilah’s hand is in mine, and it feels like it belongs there.

We stop in front of a basketball shooting game, where O’Doul and my retired teammate Bayer are already talking smack. Apparently ice cream isn’t high enough stakes for these two.

“Ten bucks a ball,” Bayer says.

“Twenty,” O’Doul counters.

His girlfriend Ariana just crosses her arms. “Would somebody just sink one so I can have ice cream?”

“You’re sporty,” I remind her. She’s our yoga instructor. “Not a basketball fan?”

She shakes her head. “I bend things and balance things. I don’t throw things.”

“We gotcha covered.” Bayer, without turning around, throws the basketball backwards over his shoulder, sinking it on the first try.

Ding! the machine chimes, spitting out a ticket with an ice cream cone printed on it.

“Works for me,” Ari says, tearing the ticket out of the machine.

“I am so fucked, aren’t I?” O’Doul asks.

“This is going to be fun,” Bayer says with a chuckle.

Ari shrugs. “Sink one for Delilah before you start the Great Basketball Battle of the Century.”

“I want to win my own,” Delilah says. “But not at basketball.” She glances around. “Actually, this might take a while.”

Ariana laughs. “I’ll be eating ice cream and staying out of trouble.”

We stroll on, hand in hand. “What should we play first?” I ask her. “The ring toss looks hard. Those rifles might be fun. Or pick something where I don’t have to let go of your hand.” I lift her palm to my mouth and kiss it.

Her eyes go a little soft. “I’m not great at throwing things, either. But that looks like fun.” She leads me toward the bouncy obstacle course. “We could have a bet, too. Loser pays the winner ten bucks for every second he comes in behind.”

“That could add up,” I say with a shake of my head. “I don’t want to take your money. Do you want a head start?

“Head starts are for sissies.” She toes off her sandals.

“You talk a good game.” I step out of my flip-flops. “But no crying afterwards. Deal?”

“Please remove your shoes,” says a bored-looking young man who’s stationed in front of the inflated red archway that marks the beginning of the course.

“Got it,” I say, resisting the urge to point out that we’re standing in the grass in bare feet. “Thanks.”

“Thirty seconds until your race starts.”

“Thanks,” Delilah says, giving me a fierce glance. “Is there anything I should know? You’re not the league champion at bouncy courses or anything, right?”

“Never done this before in my life,” I admit. “But there is the whole professional athlete thing.”

“And the eight percent body fat,” she adds.

“It’ll be nine after I win the first ice cream.”

“And, go!” says the worker.

All I see is the back of Delilah’s head as she shoots through the arch ahead of me.

I should have seen that coming. But I take off after her, and since my legs are longer, we reach the inflatable climbing wall at the same time.

Like some kind of sexy spider monkey, Delilah has found her first handholds and footholds before I’ve even assessed the challenge.

But my arms and legs are longer than hers, and I’m a goalie, so I’m super limber for a dude. Three seconds later, I’m halfway up the wall in just two lunges. “How’s it going down there?” I ask the top of Delilah’s head.

“Not bad,” she puffs, reaching for her next handhold. “Wouldn’t get complacent if I were you.”

I laugh. But laughter is dangerous. It shakes my body just enough to dislodge my foot from the weird rubber ledge where I’ve stashed it.

Before I even know what’s happened, I’m bouncing on my ass at the bottom of the wall.

“Guys, look! Silas is getting dusted by a girl.”

I hear my teammates laughing somewhere behind me. But I’m already grabbing at the wall again.

Above me, Delilah clings like a cat as the wall ripples under my bulk. The second it calms again, she climbs one more step and then disappears over the top.

Huh.

Concentrating now, I scale the wall. There’s a slide at the top, which I careen down just as Delilah is righting herself at the bottom. As I slide, she disappears into a forest of man-sized tubes poking up from the bouncy floor. As if she were ducking between a giant’s whiskers.