Page 76 of Debugging Love

Bruce smirks at me and then tosses effortlessly into one of our cups. “Boom!” he says, with his hand still poised in the air like he just swooshed a winning free throw shot.

I grab the cup and fish out the ping pong ball before pouring out the Skittles. “Where has this ping pong ball been?”

“You don’t want to know,” Bruce says.

“Great.”

I look at the four pieces of candy in my hand, two reds and two purples. “Wanna share?” I look up at Chance.

“Sure.”

“Open your mouth.”

“Why?”

“Target practice.”

He drops his jaw and I toss a purple Skittle at his face…at his mouth actually, but it hits his nose and drops to the table.

“Why is everyone pelting me with candy today?”

“I’m not done.” I toss the next piece. It lands directly in his mouth. “Do we get bonus points for that?”

Chance chews and swallows. “I don’t think so.” He directs my hand, palm side up, toward my face, and I drop the candy into my mouth.

“Stop flirting and take your turn,” Juanita calls.

My face goes warm, and those little helicopters on my feet start whirring. I tamp them down and focus on the game.

We go several more rounds, me missing the cups, Chance landing most of them, until each team is down to one cup. And it’s my turn.

Chance pulls me to the side and leans in close. “You got this, Danni,” he says softly.

I look into his eyes, feeling incompetent in so many ways. “I don’t got this.”

Let’s list the things I don’t got: my wits, my professionalism, my rational mind, any ability whatsoever to throw a ball in the general vicinity of a Dixie cup. I got nothin’. Just Chance staring down at me, daring me to look away. Which I do, but not without experiencing a full-body wave of silliness. That’s what I’m calling it. Not passion. Not desire. Not longing even. Just silliness.

“Do you want me to help you?” he says in the same husky voice he’s been using on me all afternoon.

“No, I got this.”

“You just said you don’t got this.”

“We’re waiting,” Juanita says.

“Okay.”

I walk back to the table and take aim. Before I can throw, Chance comes up behind me, really close. Like, no space between our bodies close. He wraps a hand around mine, levels his head with mine and guides my hand through the throw. The ball soars across the table along with my…silliness. (Yes, that’s what we’re calling it.) It lands smoothly in a cup and cheers erupt all around the table.

Chance is still holding my hand. Mine feels like a firecracker about to go off. He steps away and I turn. We smile at each other.

“Way to go, Scrum master,” he says.

“I’m not a Scrum master. I’m just a team lead.”

“Either way, we won.”

“Guess so.”

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