Page 52 of An Introvert's Guide to Life and Love
“Shuffleboard,” about five voices yell at me from every direction.
Daniel gives me a devilish look. “Oh, we’re not playing together. You’re on his team.” He points across the court to the guy standing opposite me. The guy is giving me a doubtful once-over, probably taking in my ridiculously misguided mini dress. “Billy, this is Mallory. She’s a world-class player.”
I stare between the two men, sweat prickling the nape of my neck. Jones stands next to Billy. “So you’re on Jones’s team? I’m playing against you?”
Daniel hoists his stick up, holding it like a pool cue. “I’ll help you along. A bit.”
What follows is a series of embarrassing attempts to push the puck into certain triangles while making sure I don’t bend over too far and moon everyone. It’s easy enough to make contact with the puck, but impossible to aim. For me, at least. The other guys rack up the points like it’s nothing. Especially Daniel.
“Seven!” Jones calls as Daniel scores them yet more points.
“How is that seven points, but mine was zero?” I ask, pointing to one of my pucks that landed in the same area.
“Yours is touching the line,” Daniel says somewhat smugly as he leans on his stick.
“Sounds made up,” I mutter, lining up my next shot. Across from me, Billy looks despondent, like he can’t wait for this game to end.Right there with you, Billy.
I hit the puck, disk, whatever, as hard as I can. It gives a satisfying thwack as it careens off one of Daniel’s disks. His flies off into no-man’s-land—they explained it to me, but I forget what it’s called—and mine glides smoothly into an area marked with an eight.
“Yes!” Billy punches the air.
Daniel turns a genuinely shocked face to me.
“What does that mean?” I widen my eyes innocently.
“It means you get, uh—” He reaches up and scratches his head, leaving his hair ruffled in the back. “You get eight and I, well, we lose seven.”
“Aw.” I pout, tucking my stick under one arm. “Sorry!”
He stares me down, and then his mouth quirks with a slight smile. “Oh, it’s like that? Okay then.”
I turn to watch Billy and Jones take their turns, but I’m not paying attention. I get a shiver of secret delight every time Daniel glances at me from the corner of his eye. I never would have guessed he had such a competitive side. The desire to keep pushing hisbuttons fuels the rest of the game, and I manage to rack up another dozen points. At the very end, it’s not even close—they’re kicking our butts—but Daniel knocks one of my disks out of the way, losing half my hard-won points.
“Hey!” I whip toward him, my stick flailing dangerously close to him.
“Whoa, whoa!” He grabs the stick firmly. “We don’t wave these around. You could bonk someone.”
“Like the person who just lost me my points?” I try to pull it away from him, but he is surprisingly strong, the stick barely moving in his grasp. He gives a yank and I stumble toward him.
“Consider it payback.”
“Is there a rule book somewhere? I want to consult the rule book.”
“You are a rule follower, aren’t you? I see that about you.” At this point, my shuffleboard cue is resting on Daniel’s shoulder and I’m still holding the end of it, a mere foot away from him. As he regards me, I feel that tingle again.Okay, Mallory, time to get some air.
I clear my throat pointedly, and he releases my stick. Jones plays his turn and then cheers.
“That’s game!” he calls.
He and Billy high-five, and Daniel and I do the same. The competitive tension fizzles away.
“Good game,” he says.
“You too! That was fun.” It was not. Other than the close proximity to Daniel. I need another drink.
I pass Billy and Jones on my way to the bar, giving them both a high five. With a fresh G&T in hand, I rejoin Amanda, where she’s engaged in a spirited conversation with a small group, something about Marvel fan theories. After a minute, I sense Daniel’s presence at my elbow.
“There’s just no way Tony Stark could be Dr. Doom. It makesno sense.” He stands unnecessarily close to me, his abdomen grazing my arm. I pretend not to notice, and we stay that way for five minutes or more, chatting with the group without so much as looking at each other. Finally, the group disperses to start a new game of shuffleboard. As the others mill about in different directions, I turn to Daniel. Should I order an Uber back to Gramps’s? I don’t know how much longer Daniel plans to stay, and I’d rather quit while I’m ahead. Before I have a chance to say or do anything too awkward.
