Page 58 of Winging It with You

Deceased.

“Mm-hmm.” Theo talking about balls does something to me. Something bad.

He takes my hand and leads us the short distance to where the rest of the group is gathered, and I instantly miss our spot secluded at the edge of the crowd. Where we could watch from afar. Where I had him all to myself.

Theo proceeds to bend down and pick up a set of wooden balls that have been painted a deep navy. He places one in my free hand. “Ready, partner?”

“Okay, hold on, hold on.” I put my hands up. “How do you play this again?” I ask, flicking a clump of dirt off my wooden ball.

“You see this here?” Arthur says. “This is the jack.” He holds up a much smaller white ball. “Or theboccino, as the Italians call it. We’re going to give this a little toss…” he says, gently launching the jack in front of us. It lands about twenty feet or so from where we’re standing. “And each team takes turns trying to get their ball closest to it.”

Theo slings an arm around my shoulders. “Simple enough, huh?”

“If you say so.”

We are going head-to-head with Jenn and Ellie now and I’m hoping enough limoncello has been passed around that come tomorrow, no one from our group will remember what I can only assume will be a lackluster athletic performance by yours truly.

“Should we make this more interesting?” Theo whispers soonly I can hear. Chills run down my spine as he lets his lips gently brush against my ear.

“Go on.”

“Each turn we take,” he says, and I can hear a slow grin forming on his handsome face, “we have to tell each other a secret.”

The thought of sharing secrets with Theo makes me giddy, but considering that I am quite literally the most boring human being on this entire planet, his flirty little game is just enticing enough for me to want to go along with it. “You’re on, Fernandez.”

He laughs, an electric sound that I can’t help but smile at. “After you, then,” he says, dropping his arm from my new favorite spot around my shoulders, indicating that I should proceed.

I roll the wooden ball between my hands and hate that I can feel every pair of eyes on me. The ball is heavier than I expected, and I have to squint slightly in the dimness to make out the white target I’m supposed to be aiming for.

Am I supposed to roll it like I would if I were bowling? Or throw it like a baseball? Why wasn’t I paying more attention to everyone else?

Fuck it.I swing my arm backward before bringing it forward with some attempt at precision and release the ball when my arm reaches its apex. It soars momentarily through the air before landing with an unimpressivethuda good ten, eleven feet short of the jack.

There’s a slow round of pity applause. Well, that was…embarrassing.

“Nice one,” Theo says from beside me as Jenn steps up for her turn. He’s lying through his teeth, obviously. “But time to pay up.” He crosses his arms as he waits for my secret.

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking,” I say slowly, hoping to buy myself an extra two seconds. “Uh, I’m double-jointed in my thumbs. Or, I can bend them backwards. Does that count?”

He smirks, feigning interest. “Let’s see.”

I stick my hands out in front of him and pop my thumbs out with ease, the way I’ve done for years since I learned I could, the closest thing to a party trick I have.

He smiles and nods in some weird sort of dude approval. “Gross. I love it.”

If his smile wasn’t the most dazzling thing I’d ever seen, hearing him call my appendage anomaly gross would make me feel a type of way.

Neither of us is paying any attention to Jenn, but the resoundingthudfrom behind us indicates it’s Theo’s turn. He steps up to the invisible line we’ve all determined is where we’re throwing from and expertly launches his own ball toward the jack. It lands about half a foot away from where he intended, resulting in a more genuine round of applause from our audience than I received. I hold back from rolling my eyes.

He turns back toward me, his smile wider than before—if that’s even possible—and comes back to reclaim his spot by my side.

“And?” I say, wiggling my eyebrows at him as he gets closer.

But he doesn’t stop where I assumed he would. Theo walks so he’s directly in front of me and puts a tentative hand on my waist. He leans forward so our cheeks are practically pressed against each other.

“My secret is,” he says, his voice a husky whisper against my ear. I shiver when his lips graze my sensitive skin again, each syllable purposely drawn out to maximize contact. “Icannot standmayonnaise.”

“Mayonnaise? Really?” I struggle to stammer out. His confession against my ear has practically left me panting. Only Theo could make condiments sound sexy.

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