Page 14 of The Run Option

I thought there was a chance of Willow showing up tonight. She’s close with Aaliyah–according to Jamal–and seems like the type of person to put others before herself. So it only surprised me a little when I saw her walk in looking far too beautiful in her little black dress. Whatreallysurprised me, though, was walking into Jamal’s game room to find her beating Calvin at pinball…while drunk.

“I can’t even say you’re cheating because you’re much too drunk to cheat,” Calvin says and I chuckle from my place a few machines down.

I came down here to get away from the crowds and stumbled upon Willow and Calvin’s competition. Apparently they’re doing a best of seven games. Willow has won the first three, all while swaying in her stilettos. There are a few other people down here playing games, but none of them are paying attention. A fact I’m sure Willow will appreciate tomorrow morning.

“I’m not drunk,” she says, barely managing not to slur her words.

“And I can tackle Damien,” Calvin deadpans. I snort. Damien is our star defensive lineman, and Calvin is a wide receiver built for scoring, not tackling.

“I’d love to see you try,” I say, drawing their attention.

Willow scrunches her nose up. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching you beat Calvin at pinball, which isn’t much of a feat considering how bad he is.”

“Hey, don’t insult my skills. Willow is just really good.”

“Yeah don’t insult him.” She reaches up and pats his cheek. “He’s good at pinball and he could tackle Damien if he wanted to.”

An irrational flash of jealousy flares within me, but it’s tamped down when I see Calvin take a step back while laughing. It’s fully extinguished when I remember that he has a crush on Aaliyah’s sister, Imani.

“How about I take his place then? See how good you really are?” I ask.

She sighs as if I’m the most exasperating person she knows. I probably am. “Fine, but don’t start crying when you lose.”

I laugh, and so does Calvin.

“Better keep an eye on her,” he says as he heads for the stairs.

“I will,” I say with a smile.

Willow sniffs. “I don’t want your eyes anywhere on me.”

I shake my head. “Did you drive here?”

She scowls as she pulls the lever to the pinball machine. “I’m not drunk, and I’m not yours to take care of, Kingsley.”

Ouch.That one stings a little. I suppose she’s not wrong–about her not being mine, she’sverydrunk–but her icy tone doesn’t make it fun to hear.

“You’re a part of the team, I take care of the team,” I tell her.

She keeps her eyes on the little ball, and she’s surprisingly deft considering her current state.

“I can take care of myself.”

With those words, she beats her last high score, then steps aside so I can play.

“I know you can, but is it so bad for someone to help?”

“If that someone is you, yes.”

I wince at her words. Something in her expression falters but then hardens once more. I probably imagined the soft look in her gray eyes. I want to ask her why she dislikes me so much, but that question hasn’t gotten much of an answer in the past. And I’d rather not antagonize a drunken Willow. Her insults are biting enough sober.

I pull the lever and focus on the game as if it were the playoffs. If I can’t help her or understand her, then I’ll beat her. Logically I know this is likely to make her madder, but now I’m frustrated. I’ve been nothing but nice to this woman–okay, maybemorethan nice at times–and she repays me in insults and eye rolls.

When I finally lose the ball, the machine dings with a new high score. I caution a glance at Willow. She’s staring at the game in disbelief.

“You cheated,” she says and I chuckle.

---