Page 23 of Merry Mischief List
Stella
Yeah yeah… go blow Santa
Actually, don’t. That’s too easy a point for you and your lack of gag reflex
Me
Don’t hate the player, hate the pecker
A cold, wet thump against my head pulls my attention from the screen.
“What the…” I look up just in time to see another projectile heading straight for me. I throw my arm in front of my face and block a… what? Porter stands a few yards away, tossing a snowball up and down in the palm of his hand as the cold ice soaks into my skin.
“Where did you even get these?” I ask with a laugh as a young kid runs up and sets down a bucket of snowballs next to me.
“Snow cone machine,” he says, gesturing with his head toward the stand mass producing buckets of snowballs.
“This is amazing.”
Another cold projectile hits the back of my head, and I spin around to find a grinning Knox with his own bucket. “I’d pretend I was targeting someone else, but my aim is pretty flawless,” he says with a cocky grin.
“You’re a defender. I wouldn’t be surprised if your aim was shit,” I quip, and he throws another one, hitting me right in the tits.
“Hey!” I protest, reaching down into my bucket.
“I grew up playing baseball too, gorgeous,” Knox says, beaming. “Never underestimate your opponent.”
“Alright, you two,” Porter shouts, pulling my attention to the most breathtaking, carefree smile I’ve seen from him yet. He and Knox share a look, and I grab my bucket, stumbling backwards towards a big open area of the outdoor festival.
“This is totally unfair!” I protest.
Porter ignores me entirely. “Three… two… one… Fire!”
Snowballs dart across the open space, and I crouch to grab some from the bucket they supplied me with. I’m pelted left and right, my clothes getting soaked in the process.
“Come on, Knox,” I shout out, throwing my own ammunition. “Join the dark side.”
“I thought you’d never ask!” he calls back immediately, turning his aim for Porter.
“Traitor!” Porter shouts, shielding himself from both of us as we absolutely demolish him.
“I’m out,” Knox calls out, running to shield me. He turns his back and takes the brunt of Porter’s “ammo” as I reach in the bucket and pull out the last few snowballs.
“Thanks for the block,” I say, looking up at his stupidly perfect face.
“Anytime.” He winks, and if I wasn’t soaked before, I am now. “Make those count.”
He spins out of the way, and Porter and I hold eye contact, each ducking the other’s shots while inching closer to one another.
A single snowball remains in his hand, and I beam at the two in mine. “You only got one shot. Don’t blow it.”
He takes another stride closer, and a snowball hits him directly in the face.
“Guess I found one more,” Knox says, releasing a deep laugh. I take the distracted opportunity to blast Porter two more times directly in the chest.
“Hah!” I shout.
Porter bolts for me, and I spin to get away. He scoops me into his damp, muscular arms, lips finding my ear and whispers, “I play to win, Andi. If I ever blow it, it’ll be on purpose.” He busts the snowball against my neck and steps away, leaving me freezing and flustered.
