Page 74 of Bad Blood

“How’d you get a point? And when did we start keeping score?” I narrow my eyes at him before dusting myself off.

“I got you to come with me on a date. And I’m always keeping score.”

“This isn’t a date. And that’s not fair.”

He reaches toward me and takes the bag from my hands, opening it as he leans back and props himself up on his elbow. “I’m a stickler for rules. My game, my rules. What is this?” He lifts a bite of sushi, inspecting it as he muddles the line on acting appropriately.

I snatch the tray of sushi from him and spear a piece with the end of a chopstick. “Delicious. It’s delicious. That’s what it is.”

After a second or two of awkward silence, I open my eyes and find Dax staring at me, his mouth open.

I grin and watch his face for a reaction. “Point.”

“For what?” He pushes to a seated position, a scowl on his lips.

“That.” I jab a finger toward his face and chuckle. I wish he could see his expression. I bet he has no clue that I got him to blush.

He shakes his head as if he’s coming out of a daze. “That’s not how it works. I calculate the points. That’s the rule.”

“Says who?” I wipe the back of my hand over my mouth and close my container.

“Me.”

I narrow my eyes. “Why didn’t that earn a point?”

“Because”—he struggles to come up with a good reason—“you know what? You can have a point. You wanted to even the playing field.”

“You wanna know what I want?”

He freezes, and his eyes grow.

“The rules. I wanna know the rules,” I say as I struggle to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

“There aren’t rules.”

I sit beside him and inspect a piece of his meal as a means of distraction. “Is that sashimi?”

“Sushi.”

I shake my head. “It’s raw.”

“Yep.”

“Sushi refers to the rice and how it’s rolled. That’s sashimi. Another point, B.”

“I don’t know if useless information qualifies as a point.”

I hold up a finger on my right hand. “You get a point for trying to teach me how to use chopsticks.” I hold up a finger on my left. “And I get one for knowing the real meaning of sushi. Two points for me. Half a point for you.”

“You don’t get to give points. Especially to yourself. And your math’s not adding up.”

“How is that fair?” I tie a knot in my plastic bag, ignoring the math issue.

“You get a point for your knowledge. But I get a full point. It’s not the teacher’s fault if the student is incapable of learning. And what happened to my point from earlier?”

“I wanna know the terms for point delineation so I can decide if I want to play.” I reach across him, keeping enough distance between us to ensure we don’t touch, and shove my wadded-up napkin inside his open bag. “This isn’t me trying to inflate your ego.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not.” He flashes me an ornery grin as he takes the bag and stands.

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