Page 75 of Debugging Love

I shrink back. “What?”

“You have that weird look again.”

“I just–” The mention of his name caused my stomach to lurch. “I need to get back to work.”

“I’m going to suggest you play Skittle Pong, because it’s team building and Christopher loves team building. He knows we horse around when he’s gone. He doesn’t care.”

“But I have a deadline.” I stand and head to the door. Morgan runs up behind me and gently places her fingers on my shoulders like I’m a steering wheel and she’s the driver.

“You’ve been working all morning. Just one game.” She turns me left, away from my desk toward the conference room where I see Chance through the glass.

I shimmy out of Morgan’s grip. “Fine. I’ll have your mandated fun.”

“That’s my girl.”

She follows me into the conference room. I round the table and lean against the back wall, careful to keep my eyes away from Chance’s eyes. I can’t afford another trip to Cloud Cuckoo Land, especially not in front of my coworkers.

Bruce is at one end of the table. Chance is at the other. Triangular arrangements of cups are at both ends.

I dare a peek at Chance as he aims. He tosses the ping pong ball. It bounces once and arches neatly into a cup.

“More for me,” Bruce says as he grabs the cup. He pours out a handful of Skittles and tosses them into his mouth.

A rogue Skittle pelts Chance in the face and then clatters to the table. He rubs his cheek and grimaces at it. “What was that for?”

“That was for your stinky fish,” Juanita says from the corner.

“That’s it,” Chance announces. “It’s on. Me and Juanita.”

“Let’s play teams,” Bruce says. “Pick a partner.”

“Danni,” he says too quickly, without looking at me.

“I don’t know how to play.”

Drew, who is holding up the wall next to me, obliges. “Beer Pong, also known as Beirut,” he says in his curt, choppy style, “requires exacting aim and precision throwing of one ping pong ball across a long table, preferably eight feet, by two feet, on which two arrays of cups are positioned at both ends. The cups are filled with an alcoholic beverage, such as–”

“Shut it,” Bruce says, holding up a hand. He looks at me. “You toss the ping pong ball across a table. If it lands in your opponent’s cup, they eat the Skittles. Got it?”

“Uh, sure.” I sidle over to Chance, Morgan watching my every move, her expression saying she knows more than I know, which makes her very satisfied. Oh, I know. Believe me, I know. Standing next to Chance has me soaring like I have little helicopters on my feet. I stomp twice to disengage them.

“Is that your pre-Skittle Pong ritual?” Chance says, glancing down at me.

“What? Stamping my feet? No, that’s just because I’m cranky.”

Chance smiles. We share a moment, a memory that suddenly feels fond. I am in so much trouble. Morgan looks pleased. I scowl at her.

“Prepare to taste the rainbow, crybabies,” Juanita announces before tossing the first ball. It bounces off the table and hops across the floor.

“Sweet move,” Chance says. He retrieves the ball and offers it to me. “You want to go first?”

“My hand-eye coordination is bad,” I say. “Really bad.”

“Just go,” Bruce says. “I’m hungry.”

Chance ignores him and hands me the ball. I pretend to aim and then toss, falling well short of the cups. Physics does me no favors, sending my ball right into Bruce’s solid grip. “Next time try aiming,” he says.

“I did. I aimed for your hand.”

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