Page 30 of Reaching Gavin

“As I was saying, Gavin doesn’t date.” Imogen leaned across the table and covered her mouth with one hand as if sharing a secret. “He’s looking for the one.”

“I’m not looking for anything, except for the reason why I invited you to come out tonight,” he broke in, tugging at his collar. It was warm in here, but I suspected his sister’s need to dish his secrets was what really had him bothered.

“You called me,” she accused. “I had other things to do tonight, but then you’re on the phone telling me I have to get dressed and be ready”—

“You guys want to play Skee-Ball?” Gavin interrupted her.

My eyebrows shot up at this development. “She was in the middle of a sentence!”

But he grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the arcade section before she could finish it. I guessed the conversation was on pause. He whipped out his credit card and purchased two gameplay passes so fast my head spun.

“Aren’t you going to get one for her?” I asked, tipping my head toward his sister.

“Imogen can take care of herself.”

“So can I,” I said defiantly. I wished I hadn’t left my purse at the table, so that I can take out my credit card and buy my own pass on the spot. Before I could head back for it, Gavin pressed a card into my hand.

“Yes, you can,” he said genuinely. “But you shouldn’t always have to. Let me do it. Just for tonight.”

If I wasn’t careful—if I let him keep saying things like that—they were going to be mopping me off the floor of Cheesy Pete’s.

“Okay. But I have to warn you that I’m going to kick your ass at Skee-Ball.” I marched over toward the machines, not waiting for him and swiped my card. The familiar sound of nine plastic balls rolling down a chute greeted me instantly. Gavin took the spot beside me and started his own game.

“I don’t think you know how good I am at Skee-Ball,” he warned me as his own balls racked up.

“Care to make a wager on that?”

He straightened, a blue, plastic ball in hand and asked, “What do you have in mind?”

I looked over to the prizes section where a variety of ridiculous, nostalgic toys and items were on display. They ranged from before my childhood up until the new millennium. Everything from Pound Puppies to Britney Spears posters was on display, all meant to elicit a sentimental reaction from someone who was far too old to go out and buy these things now. I spotted exactly what I wanted on a top shelf.

“I bet you I can get you something off the top shelf.” These were fighting words. Anyone who had spent any time in arcade as a kid knew exactly how many tickets were needed to claim said top shelf prize. He studied the bounty of choices on display, grinned, and nodded.

“You’re on.” He didn’t wait for me to start instead he assumed a crouched position and let the first ball role. Right out of the gate, he hit a fifty pointer.

Damn, he was good. Too bad for him that I was better. Bending down, I angled my body until I had the perfect position. Then, I let my ball go. It took just the right amount of finesse to hit one of the coveted corner rings. Most people believed it wasn’t even possible and that even if one could get a ball near them, the holes were too small and would send the ball shooting back out to be collected by the ball hop at the end. I knew differently. My ball sailed up and dropped into the coveted ring.

Gavin paused mid-roll, his mouth dropping open. If he had any further thoughts on the matter, he didn’t share them. Instead, he reached for his next ball.

I waited to see what he would do. A rookie would try to do the same. A seasoned Skee-Ball player, who wasn’t good at 100 point ringers, would stick to his strengths. Gavin nailed another fifty-point score.

So, he did know what he was doing. That was kinda hot. I managed to hit another 100-point mark, putting me firmly at double his score.

“Your luck isn’t going to hold out forever,” he warned me as he rocketed off another ball.

“It’s not luck.” I shot back. But my smack talk proved to be too big a distraction. My next ball skimmed over the plastic ring and then fell down into the ball hop without giving me any points. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d whiffed so hard.

Gavin didn’t say anything, but I caught a smug grin on his face. Oh, it was on.

I didn’t bother to keep track of individual games. We were playing too fast for that. Instead, every few minutes I would dare a glance at the stream of tickets his Skee-Ball machine was awarding him. I thought I still had him beat, but it was close. Without stopping to actually count, and because I wasn’t keeping track in my head, I couldn’t be sure. Gavin had loaded our play cards with more digital tokens than we could get through before our food would arrive. When he finally tapped me on the shoulder and nodded toward the table, I’ve been so in the zone that I hadn’t looked over to check his score for at least ten minutes.

“Food’s there.”

“Giving up?” I asked him as I snapped my tickets off the machine and began to fold them into a large pile.

“Never.” He grinned. “But kicking your ass is making me hungry. Intermission?”

“Okay,” I agreed reluctantly. We headed back toward the table where Imogen was already serving herself a giant slice of veggie pizza.