Page 56 of Pete and His Precious

“And I’ll help you. This is the perfect time for you to play.”

“But I stink.” This is not a lie.

“Actually, I kinda thought you smelled good,” Pete says, and Baxley laughs, but I know my cheeks heat, and I’m glad he’s behind me. I decide I’m not going to pay attention to that, and not try to figure out what in the world he is trying to say. I tell myself it was just a joke to make Bexley laugh, and I’m not going to read anything more into it.

I go after the ball, picking it up and coming back over to the table. “You know what I meant,” I say, as I put myself next to the table again, trying to hold the ball and my paddle the way he showed me, and face Baxley, who looks just as serious facing me as she does when she’s playing against Pete. I suppose that’s the mark of a champion: it doesn’t matter who you’re facing up, you always put your best effort in.

Maybe, it shouldn’t matter how good you are, you always put your best effort in.

This time I hit the ball when I throw it up. Usually I can. I’m not amazingly coordinated, but I can typically put paddle to ball anyway. It’s just a matter of getting a good shot in, and then resetting myself to be ready for the ball coming back at me.

Baxley hits the ball back, and to my surprise, I hit it back to her. The ball goes high and wide and completely misses the table.

“Sorry,” I say, scrunching up my face and wishing I wouldn’t have come. I hate that I’m so terrible.

“It’s okay. Pete said I can learn to better my game no matter who I’m playing, and you can too.” Baxley looks at me encouragingly, like she’s afraid I’m going to quit. Honestly, I was on the verge.

Pete’s voice rumbles near me again, although his hands don’t go around me as he gives me a couple of tips on how I can improve my swing and the angle of the ball.

“Ping-pong isn’t about strength, it’s about finesse,” he says, and somehow those words seem really wise to me. But, it seems like everything he says goes straight to my soul.

There is something seriously wrong with me. And my lack of ping-pong skills is not the only thing that makes me want to leave the room.

Chapter 19

Pete

I was not expecting this.

Not expecting Zoe to come, not expecting her to be willing to play. I definitely wasn’t expecting to feel so awkward around her. I sent her the flowers, and she didn’t even mention them. Did she not recognize my name? No, I know I said something about what a great talk we had the night before, and I know she hadn’t been talking with anybody else, since she was with me the whole evening. She’s just completely ignoring it. Why?

She didn’t mention the anteater either, and she has to know who that was from, although she might think that Cal did it.

I shouldn’t have done it anonymously. I should have just told her who it was from, and texted her what I was doing.

I’ve made so many mistakes, and I’m really at a loss as to what to do. At least I’m competent at ping-pong, and I feel like I’m giving her good advice. I want to adjust her paddle myself again, but standing there with my arms wrapped around her, it was too tempting to wrap them around her stomach, pull her closer and nuzzle her neck. She smelled good. Really good. I can’t even describe the scent, other than it was sweet but not cloyingly so. Just sweet enough to make you want to be closer.

She such a good sport too. She’s terrible, but she’s still trying, and not making the whole thing into a farce. It’s like she really does want to get better, because she loves her niece and wants to be able to play with her. I love the character that shows. When someone’s really terrible at something, it’s easy to give up on it. Maybe like me and drawing. I’ve pretty much given up on drawing entirely, except now that I have to do it for the festival, I need to figure something out. And then I realize that I’m going tohave to put the kind of effort into it that Zoe is putting into ping-pong. After all, if I have that kind of character, I need to show it.

Still, we’re about halfway through the game and I’ve been watching the way she’s holding her paddle, and even the way she’s holding her body, and I know that there are several things she could tweak to make it so much better. I take a deep breath, and then steel myself.

I can help her, and so, after she picks up the ball and walks back over to the table, I say, “Here, let me show you this.” And then I proceed to put my hands on hers like I had before, and tilt them just slightly, telling her all the while how it will help her game.

The whole time, I’m trying to pretend that I’m not breathing deeper than I need to so I can memorize her scent, and act like I’m not tempted to bring her closer to me, so I can hold her. And I’m definitely not tempted to run my lips down the shell of her ear and feel her shiver.

Not the slightest tempted to do any of those things. At least that’s what I tell myself, although I don’t think that a person should lie to themselves any more than necessary.

“You think you can do that?” I ask, after I’m done explaining it to her.

She nods, but doesn’t say anything. I’m not sure if that’s because she’s upset that I’m so close, or because I corrected her. Sometimes people don’t take correction very well, but Zoe really seems to.

“I’m just trying to help,” I say, because I can’t walk away without trying to defend myself.

“I know. And I appreciate it,” she says, as I back off.

I really don’t want to let her go, and the words of Trixie sound in my ear. He called her precious. She really is precious, and I would love for her to be mine.

Baxley wins the game, with Zoe not even getting a single point. But still, Zoe’s form and her shots are a lot better. She still has work to do on her reflexes, but those can improve with time if a person works on them.

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