Page 74 of Sweet Caroline
“Yeah, you too.” I hold up my cup in a little papercheersas Russell walks off, then drain the last of the water and toss it in the trash.
Take it easy.
As if anything about this iseasy.
15
CAROLINE
“You’ve played before, right?” Miles sets down the cup of tokens on the edge of the air hockey table.
The arcade is a cacophony of bleeps, cheers, and chatter. A huge neon sign on the wall readsPinball Wizardand casts the entire space in a pinkish glow.
“Um,” I hedge, tucking my hands into the front pockets of my jeans. “No, actually.”
“You serious?” His eyes widen. “You’ve been missing out. Here.” He passes me one of the two plastic disc things and sets up across the table from me, slotting a few tokens into place until a whirring fan noise kicks into gear.
“What are the rules? Is there a technique, or…?” I try a few experimental strokes with the felt-bottomed disc, hovering my free palm over the table. Cool air blows up through the tiny holes dotting the surface.
“Not a lot to it. You try to score on me; I try to score on you. Pretty straightforward.” Miles flips the thin plastic puck in midair and catches it, pinning me with a cocky grin before tossing itdown on the table. It drifts slowly to one side, carried on the air like a tiny hovercraft. He leans forward. “But you gotta be fast.”
“Okay?” I try for a brave smile.
“Just remember to protect your goal.” He braces his arms wide on his end of the table, his corded muscles flickering with tension. “You’ll get the hang of it. Trust me.”
Trust me.
Images of locking pinkies with Miles in the car on the way to the fundraiser drift back into my mind and I bite my lip. It’s hard to believe the man in the backward ball cap standing across from me is the same one who donned that tuxedo two weeks ago—though he pulls off casual every bit as well as the tux.
Who am I kidding? He’d make a paper sack look good.
“Caroline!” Olena calls from nearby, drawing my attention away from Miles’ body. “Kick his ass for me!”
“I’ll try my best!” I call back with a shrug. “Any pointers?”
Olena cups a hand beside her mouth, pumping her eyebrows. “Distract him!”
“Hey!” Miles shouts over to her. “Interference much? Whose side are you on here, anyway?”
“Hers, obviously!” Olena calls back, screwing up her face. “Hos before bros! Plus, if she doesn’t beat you, I will!”
Miles had told me about his friendly rivalry with Olena on the drive over here.
I liked her the moment we met up with her and Jude out front of the arcade. Maybe it was the two pairs of sunglasses in her hair, or maybe it was the way she hugged me without thinking twice, but there’s something warm and real about her that put me at ease right away.
Jude has been harder to get a read on. While Miles has the enthusiasm of a golden retriever, Jude’s vibe is more guarded. Is German shepherd energy a thing? I guess I can’t blame him for being protective of his little brother, knowing what they’ve beenthrough together. And this arrangement between me and Miles is unusual, by anyone’s standards.
Despite Jude’s objections about driving so much for work, Olena convinces him to play a racing game with her. He casts an uneasy glance our way before letting her drag him off.
“You ready?” Miles asks. At my nod, he taps the puck into play, his first strike clearly somewhat restrained on my account.
“You don’t need to take it easy on me, y’know.” As we knock the puck back and forth, I start to get a feel for it and give it a bit more gas. “I’m not some delicate flower.”
“Oh, okay,” he says. “She’s wearing her sassy pants today.” To his credit, though, he picks up the pace and I catch a competitive set to his jaw when I risk a quick look up.
Not backing down, I take a hard swipe at the puck, and he rushes to block the shot, narrowly deflecting it at the last second.
“Shit, and she’s a quick learner.”
