Page 35 of Hard Count
“Threatened? No. I just didn’t appreciate the way they were looking at you.” He swipes his card on the card reader and a dozen balls roll down the rack. “I want to have fun with you and not be annoyed with a bunch of kids.”
“Let’s have fun then.” I swipe my card and start my game. I grab a ball and get ready to toss it up the ramp while Nash pulls out his phone. “Why are you taking photos?” I side eye him.
“Because whether we want it to or not, our lives will flash forward without our permission and I want evidence of our first date to look back on anytime I want.” He motions his arm for me to continue as if what he said was a throwaway comment.
I gather up what I can of my melted heart and square my shoulders. Winding my arm back, I roll it down the lane. The ball pops up and bounces into the middle target for five hundred points. With an excited smile on my face, I turn toward Nash just in time for him to snap another photo.
“You’re going to be obnoxious with the photos, aren’t you?”
“I am. Come here. I want to get one of the two of us.” He drapes his arm around me like he did earlier in front of the teenagers. With the Skee-Ball game behind us, we both smile into the camera. He dips his head and kisses the side of mine and snags one more photo.
“I’m going to take your phone away if you don’t stop staring at it.”
“I can’t help myself. You look good, baby.” He takes his eyes off his phone to look at me for a moment.
“Then you should watch the real thing kick your ass,” I say over my shoulder before tossing another ball.
He grins and pockets his phone. I can feel his eyes on me as I take another turn. “You’re right, this is much better.” He picks up a ball, rolls it down the lane and banks it on the left side to make it hop into the top right corner for a thousand points. I would say it was a lucky shot but he does it three more times in a row.
“Did you grow up in an arcade?”
“Not quite but I did celebrate almost all of my birthday parties at an arcade or a bowling alley. This was one of my favorite games.”
“What were your other favorites?” I curse when my ball bounces off the edge of the hole earning me zero points.
“The place we went to when I was a kid had a baseball simulator. It was a lot of fun. I still hit up the cages on campus every now and then. It’s a nice stress reliever.”
“Do you ever wish you stuck with baseball instead of football?”
He picks up a ball and juggles it in his hands. “The first year was tough. I missed traveling with my friends. I felt like the odd man out being the only one playing football.” He throws the ball and scores another thousand points. He’s definitely going to win this game.
“Sounds like that was a hard transition.”
“It was but my coach in high school saw my potential. He was right. Once I started focusing on one sport I got better. I may not have gotten my scholarship to play at Newhouse which means I wouldn’t have met you. My life would be completely different.”
“I’ve always thought life ends up just how it should. Even the hard parts of life serve a purpose.” I throw my last ball and by some miracle it drops in the top left corner for a thousand points.
“What do you mean?”
I shrug. “I don't know. I like to think I didn’t go through everything I did just so I could have a crappy childhood. It makes me feel better believing that maybe in ten years when I have my own family I’ll be the kind of parent I wish I had. Iwant to give my kids everything I wasn't given because I know better,” I say.
"You'll be a good parent because you're a good person. That heart I'm trying to win is big with lots of love to give." His eyebrows knit together and he rolls his lips as if he's trying to not say something.
"What are you thinking?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "Nothing. Just secretly wishing some of that love will be sent my way one day."
“You're on the right track." I tease him. "You should finish the game and then we can do something I’m actually good at like eating.”
“Okay.” His eyes linger on me another second before turning back to the game and sending the last few balls up the ramp. “You know you can talk to me about your family and your childhood if you want to—if you need to. I’m here for you. Whatever you say will stay between us.”
"Thank you." I slide my hand into his, weaving our fingers together, and start leading us toward the bar and dining area. “Next time.”
“Are you agreeing to go out with me again?”
“I’ve had a lot of fun so far tonight. Unless you fumble the rest, I’d say you have a chance.” I grin.
“There’s still time. I’ll try not to blow it,” he jokes. “I want to take you somewhere else after this if you’re up for it.”
