Page 35 of End Game
“Dude,” she says, pointing a few yards over. “It’s the best game of all time. Except maybe Plinko. But I’ve never actually gotten to play that.”
She takes off without me and I just follow along, shaking my head.
“Where in the hell do you get this stuff?” I ask, wrapping an arm around her neck and pulling her close to me. “Plinko?”
“I watchedThe Price is Rightevery day growing up. My mom would record it on our VCR because it was on right before her soap operas. I wanted to put that chip down the ramp and watch it bounce.”
“Sounds kinky,” I shrug.
“You can put your chip down my ramp and watch me bounce when we get home.”
“Damn it, woman. I’m going to be Skee Balling with a hard-on now,” I say, letting her go.
She laughs, her voice catching the attention of the game attendant. He takes my money and gives us tickets and we find two booths side-by-side.
“This is serious,” she says, rubbing her hands together. “No talking. No bumping. No interfering with the other person’s game whatsoever or you’re disqualified and your chip remains in its slot the rest of the night. Got it?”
It’s my turn to laugh as my balls come crashing down the ramp. “You’re a woman after my own heart.”
“No, I’m a woman who wants no part of your heart,” she deadpans. “I want your blood right now and your cock later. Keep your heart.”
“I think I just fell in love.”
She rolls her eyes and counts us down and we begin the most epic game of Skee Ball Linton has ever seen.
CHAPTER 11
LAYLA
Poppy’s giggle from the room next door filters through the thin walls of my bedroom. Watching Branch do pull-ups from a low-hanging limb off a tree in the yard, I have half a notion to get dressed and go down there with him.
Last night at the festival turned out to be more than I even expected. It took Branch a while to really loosen up and let his guard down, something that I don’t think he really does all that much. But when he dropped it, he really dropped it. So much so, in fact, that I waited for almost an hour while he showed a group of high school boys how to throw a football and catch a pass on the tennis courts.
I’ve never seen him quite like that. Invigorated. Energized. Talking a mile-a-minute and jumping from one thing to another. I think that little side track was his favorite part of the night, although he insists it was his victory over me in Skee Ball.
My bed still smells like him, sticky, red candy smeared on my sheets from our romp when we got back. I showered after and again now when I woke up and still feel the tackiness on my thighs and breasts. So worth it.
He catches me watching him and drops to the ground and busts out a number of push-ups, all the while maintaining eyecontact. I laugh, give him a thumbs up, and then walk away from the window.
I have to. He’s a glorious sight all shirtless and golden from the afternoon sun, but this little fest will come to an end when we go home tomorrow and I need to start applying the brakes now.
By the time I get dressed and stretch out a little, my muscles aching, Poppy and Finn are already in the kitchen. They’re whispering back and forth as I enter.
“Secrets are lies,” I say, plucking a strawberry out of a bowl.
Poppy turns around and smirks. “No, I know what a lie is and it’s not a secret. Or, maybe it is. Is it?”
I toss her a look and mouth, “Stop it” while Finn’s back is to me. “How was the party at Machlan’s?”
“Those boys are nuts,” Poppy giggles. “I kind of love them.”
“What happened?” I ask, looking at Finn.
“Just the normal shit. Peck had bottle rockets so I’ll let you determine how that fared.”
“Oh no,” I laugh.
“Pretty much. What did you do last night?” he asks.
