Page 12 of Blocked Score

“So,” he begins, “I’d offer to buy you a drink for letting me help you. But I’m a square and don’t have a fake ID.”

I sputter a laugh, shaking my head. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around, anyway?”

“You offering to buy me a drink?” he retorts with a wry grin. “I would accept. But, well, you know.” He holds out his two thumbs and index fingers to make the shape of a square in front of his chest. I laugh again.

No point in resisting fate, right?

“There’s a pool hall around the corner. Serves beer, but you don’t have to be twenty-one to enter.”

Lane replies with three words that have an outsized effect on my heart rate. “It’s a date.”

“So,is getting kicked out of places a regular thing for you?” Lane lobs his question as we order sodas from the bar area of the pool hall.

“Not really,” I answer over the rim of my glass as I take a sip. “Well, I did get kicked out of the zoo once.”

Lane’s brow leaps. “Thezoo? How do you get kicked out of thezoo?”

I shrug. “I was there with a group of friends, and someone dared me to sneak into the penguin enclosure and get a selfie with one of them. I tried, got caught, and we were escorted from the premises.”

Lane blows a heavy breath through his lips, shaking his head slowly like he’s judging me, but the glimmer of amusement in his eyes tells a different story. “Geez, you’re worse than I thought.”

“What? It’s not like penguins are dangerous or anything.”

His expression pinches with contemplation. “Aren’t they? How do you know? Maybe they are.”

“But they’re too cute to be dangerous!”

“Hippos are cute, too, but they kill more people than lions.”

“Maybe you’re right. Getting caught may have saved my life. I could’ve been bludgeoned to death by the wings of a penguin.”

Lane laughs, and he leans against the bar top and looks out to the pool tables. It’s busy here, but there are a couple tables open. “You play much pool?”

I nod. “Kind of a lot, actually. I worked at a bar that had some tables. Lots of customers came in to use them. I learned the ropes.”

“You even worked at a bar being under twenty-one?” Lane asks.

The surprise in his voice makes me chuckle. “This really wasn’t the kind of place that gave a shit about checking IDs. Or about filing taxes right. Or about paying employees on time,” I add with a grumble.

“Where are you from?” Lane asks. “Near Burlington?” That’s where the flight Lane and I met on originated from.

“Nah, I’m from a run-down former mill town in Massachusetts you’ve never heard of. The cheapest flight to Chicago was out of Boston with a transfer at Burlington.”

It’s funny to think how it was nothing but the desire to save an extra fifty bucks that’s responsible for Lane and me crossing paths.

I guess that’s just what life is. A series of coincidences and mistakes. It all depends on what you’re able to make of them.

Honestly, reflecting on all the mistakes I’ve made in my life so far has been weighing on my shoulders lately. It feels like there’s been too many for the number of years I’ve racked up.

At least for all the mistakes I’ve made, I have stories to go along with them. Even picked up a skill or two.

“Ready to get your ass kicked?” I say to Lane, nodding toward an empty pool table.

He grins, rising to the challenge. “You’re awfully confident. You know, last season I led all of college hockey for defensive goals.”

I arch my brow primly. “That supposed to mean something when it comes to pool?”

“Aim and accuracy translate.”

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