Page 28 of Personal Foul
Being threatened by a diminutive coed isn’t something that happens to me very often, and I’m not sure it’s ever happened on behalf of someone else, so I have to fight down the smile that wants to come out. The image of her trying to attack me is funny, though. I regularly cover and take down guys who are bigger and faster than her every season.
I suppose she did say she’d break somethingof mine, and not necessarily that it would be a body part. Which could mean that she’d go after my stuff and not me, specifically.
That thought sobers me, so I nod solemnly. “Noted.”
“Thanks for the advice,” she says after a moment, then slips off the stool and approaches Andrew and Charity. “Can I have a turn?”
They immediately make room for her, and soon Andrew’s showing Isabelle the finer points of knife throwing. It takes her several tries, but she eventually lands one, and Andrew gives her a hug to celebrate. So much for being hard to get. Though I suppose since they’re on a date, tonight might not be the best time to implement that advice.
Charity steps over to me, a half-smile on her face. “You gonna go again? Or are you content to rest on the laurels of your win?”
Grinning, I turn to face her, spreading my legs to make room for her to step closer to me. She doesn’t, though. At least not at first. So I pick up her hand from the counter and use it to draw her closer.
Her expression turns suspicious, and she glances around to see who’s looking. No one, as far as I know, but that’s not the point. I just want to be able to touch her while I’m allowed to.
“I’m content to rest on my laurels, as you put it. Our time’s almost up. I say we let them have fun the rest of the time.”
Her eyes search mine as though looking for the trick or joke. But she can’t find one, because it’s not there. She shrugs and says, “Okay,” then pulls away—to my disappointment, but I won’t ever admit that out loud—to climb on her stool.
We watch them in companionable silence until John comes over and says, “Welp. That’s an hour, folks. You want to play another game and go for another hour, or are you ready to go?”
Charity glances back at me, eyebrows raised.
“I’m good,” I say, standing up. Charity slides off her stool as well. I lift my chin at Andrew. “You guys can stay if you want, but we’re gonna head.”
Isabelle makes an, “Ooh,” sound, like we’re off to do something dirty.
Charity blushes and gives her friend a hug. “See you at home.”
“Or not,” Isabelle quips. “I’m not your mom. We don’t have curfews. Stay out all night if you want.”
With a laugh, Charity waves at both of them and heads for the door.
I smack Andrew’s outstretched hand. “Good game, man,” he says, pulling me in close to bump shoulders.
“You too.” I nod toward Isabelle. “Shit or get off the pot, though, dude.”
His face closes down, but I don’t care. He needs to hear it as much as she did.
My good deeds for the day squared away, I turn and follow Charity to the front to pay for the two of us. Andrew’ll probably be disappointed that he’ll have to cover this after I got dinner, but that’s too bad for him.
Looks like they’re heading out too, though. I know he’s good for it, so I’m not worried.
Charity’s already outside, arms crossed against the evening chill. “You could’ve waited inside,” I tell her, putting my arm around her and pulling her close to warm her up.
But she stiffens and pulls away. “You can drop the act now, Dylan. No one’s paying attention to us.”
I glance behind us, half-hoping to be able to prove her wrong. But she’s right. The windows are tinted dark and full of signage. Plus it’s already dark out. The only way anyone would see us is if they had their nose pressed to the glass.
With a shrug, I drop my arm. “Where to next?”
She laughs, but it’s not the happy laughter from earlier. It’s dark, almost mean. “Uh, home?”
Another shrug. “Sounds good.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Charity
