How We Deal With Gravity

by Ginger Scott

  And I hate that feeling almost more than any other—I recognize it, it’s hope. Goddamned Mason Street has given me hope. He better not crush it.

  Mason

  I’m not that drunk. I’m pretty sure Avery thinks I’m as blitzed as Ben or the other guys. But I’m not even close. I had three or four beers, which for me is nothing. I’m in full control of this. I’ve watched that girl avoid me all night—and I know she was avoiding me. My mom’s not very good at secrets, and she asked me outright why Avery was so bent on her handling us boys tonight. I told her that Avery didn’t get along with Ben, but I know it’s also because she doesn’t want to be around me. Not after I watched her cry, and almost kissed away her tears.

  The lights are coming on, and the jukebox music is the only thing left in the bar. Josh and Matt are nearly passed out at the table. I’m going to have to call them a cab to take them back to their apartment. Ben’s handling his liquor pretty well, but he’s busy flirting with the last girl who performed. I told him she didn’t look like his kind of girl—she was pretty innocent looking, more of a girlfriend kind of girl—but he didn’t care. He never does.

  I was glad to see the boys. It’s been a couple of weeks since we all split, trying to make sense of the label dumping us. Matt and Josh drove around the country for a few days—they’re both originally from Indiana, so they spent some time with their families. Ben had planned on coming home with me, but he got hooked up with some girl in Texas and well….

  I can see Avery moving back and forth, from the kitchen to the bar, and back again. She’s busying herself, helping out others on purpose, just to avoid spending time with me. I catch Cole’s attention while she’s in the kitchen.

  “Hey, man,” I say, nodding toward the door. “She’s avoiding me. I just wanna talk. Help a brother out?”

  Cole smiles big, and just gives me a nod, letting me know he gets what I’m asking. Cole’s a good-looking dude, and I feel okay admitting that. I wondered at first if he and Avery ever had a thing, but it’s clear they haven’t. And I don’t get the sense that there’s really any interest either way. When Avery comes back out, Cole stops her before she starts loading up more dishes for the back.

  “Ave, if you do all my work, then I won’t have a job. So…how about you let me finish this up?” he asks. She turns to look at me immediately, and then back at Cole, biting on the inside of her cheek. She knows I put him up to this, she’s just deciding whether or not she wants to play along.

  “All right, you sure?” she says, drying her hands on the bar towel.

  “I’m sure, Ave. I’m sure,” Cole says, almost like he’s giving her permission. I see her shoulders rise and fall with her deep breath, and when she turns to me, she looks like she’s in line for the world’s scariest roller coaster.

  “One drink. That’s it,” I say, walking closer to her and crossing my heart with my right hand.

  “Fine, but I get to pick the drink,” she says, moving away from me and behind the bar. When she comes back with two Cokes, I just about lose it.

  “Ha! Seriously, this is your idea of a big night out. Damn, girl…I’ve gotta teach you a few things,” I say, lifting the straw and inspecting it. “Is that…a bendy straw?”

  “It sure is,” she says, bending hers and taking a big sip. Shit, her drink is already a third of the way gone.

  “Alrighty then. Well…how about we shoot some darts,” I ask, trying to come up with anything that will slow her ass down.

  “Sure. Whatever,” she says, brushing me with her shoulder when she passes. She’s trying so hard to keep this front up. It’s really cute, but it’s frustrating as hell.

  I follow her to the billiards room and open up one of the cabinets, pulling out the metal darts. Ray never went electronic with anything. He always said it ruined the authenticity, and I tend to agree. These darts are the same ones I learned to throw when I was nine years old. They’re still crazy sharp, though. I take a small sip of my Coke and laugh under my breath. I should have known Avery would have found a way around this—a loophole!

  “So, what are we playing, first one to zero from three hundred?” I ask, thinking that this game could go on for at least 30 minutes.

  “I can’t be here that long, Mason. Let’s do two hundred,” she already looks put out, and it’s killing me. I don’t know how I’m going to make this girl turn a corner with me, but damn it, something’s got to get inside her head.

  “Two hundred…okay. But…we’re playing to zero exactly,” I say, knowing that throwing a little strategy in—and making both of us end our score at exactly zero—might just buy me a few extra minutes.

  Avery’s eyes are squinted, and she’s studying me. I hate that every time we interact she puts our entire exchange through a litmus test. I can see her physically questioning my every motive. It’s my fault she’s like this with me. And I’m starting to wonder if it’s my fault that she’s like this with her entire goddamned life.

  “Fine, we’ll play your way. I’m shooting first. Give me the gold,” she’s got a little fire in her voice. Suddenly, Avery’s got a competitive spirit going on. This…I can use!

  “You can be gold. But—” I hold the darts back before I give them to her. She flips her hair around and stops her feet right in their tracks.

  “No more buts. Just throw the damn darts when I’m done, Mason,” she says, and I can’t help but laugh at her version of bossy. No doubt, Avery is a strong woman—and I know from experience that she can get her point across when she needs to. But now she’s just being difficult to be mean, to get back at me. And while I should pretend it’s working, I just can’t hold my laughter in.

  Her hands are on her hips now, and she’s forcing her lips tight. I know she’s about to bail on the entire night. I manage to hold my breath long enough to compose myself, and hold my hands up to signify a truce.

  “We need to have something to play for. That’s all,” I say, and she immediately gives me a sideways glance, her suspicion spiking again.

  “Fine, if I beat you, you do all my dishes—here and at home—for the next week,” she’s proud of herself with this one, and the smirk on her face shows me she thinks I’ll back off, not wanting to do any hard work. She should know better, though—I’ve never been afraid of hard work, especially at the bar.

  I nod my head in agreement, and step closer to her, reaching out my hand to shake on it. When she slides her soft fingers into mine, it’s the most amazing feeling in the world. Other than those few seconds when my fingers were on her face, the only other time Avery touched me was when she slapped me across the cheekbone. I like this touch a whole lot more.

  She’s about to let go of our shake when I hold her grasp firmly, and step in even closer. I’ve got one shot at this.

  “And if I win,” I say, my lips unable to contain the shit-eating grin on my face as I move closer to her ear. She’s frozen, and I can see her neck speckled with goosebumps, but she’s not moving away either. I lick my lips slightly, just to see what that does, and when I hear her breath escape, I know I’ve got her. “If I win, I get to kiss you. Like I was supposed to a decade ago.”

  Her face is flushed when I pull away, her lips parted, and her eyes almost afraid—but her hand is still in mine, so I give it one more shake just to seal the deal. I turn away, and I can feel her still standing there, watching me. I wanted to kiss her right then, her neck is so soft and she smells so good. For the last five years, I’ve done nothing but have one-night stands and flings with girls who smell like smoke and tequila. Avery—she smells like heaven.

  “Go on, princess. You wanted to go first,” I say, wishing like hell that I kept up with this game. I used to be good—even hustled a few of the locals when I was in high school. But it’s been years since I’ve thrown a dart.

  Avery takes a drink of her soda, and I notice her hands are still shaking slightly when she tries to line up her shot. She’s nervous, and I hope like hell she throws this game so I can feel
how soft her lips are. She shuts her eyes for a brief second, and when she opens them again, her hands are steadier. Her eyes are focused on the board, her elbow bent in front of her, when she releases.

  Eighteen. Okay, so this is not going to be a walk in the park. Her next throw is only a four, and her last one is a ten, so I feel like I might have some room to breathe.

  “Show me what you’ve got,” she says as she walks by with a little swagger in her step. She’s putting up a good act, but I notice the small quiver in her voice when she speaks.

  I grab my darts from the table, and take a big gulp of my Coke, wiping my mouth across my sleeve like I would if I were drinking the hard stuff. It makes her laugh, so I got what I wanted.

  “All right…let me show you how this is done,” I say, holding her gaze long enough for her to blink and look away. I’m smiling while I line up my shot, and I move my arm back just enough to give the dart some sticking power, and then release.

  Two.

  Avery is laughing so hard she has to actually cover her mouth. It’s one of those laugh-so-hard-no-noise-comes-out kind of laughs. Honestly, I love seeing her face like this. I don’t think I’ve seen her smile like this once since I’ve been back, and it’s almost worth losing…almost.

  As pretty as her lips are when they’re smiling, I can’t imagine how they look inches away from my own…begging. Begging. Like I could ever get Avery to beg me for anything. But just the thought…

  I have to shake my head to focus; I’m getting so worked up. Avery’s too busy fussing with the feathers on her darts to notice, which is good, because I’m pretty sure what I’m thinking about right now—the way I’m reacting to her—she would notice!

  After a few deep breaths, I refocus, and line my second shot up. This one’s better—seventeen. One more big number, and I’ll be in the lead. I’ve got Avery’s attention now, too—and this time, there is no laughter. Instead, her bottom lip is completely tucked under her top teeth, and her knee is bouncing like a damned jackrabbit.

  “You look nervous there. Might want to pull out your lip balm…you know, moisten those babies up. Just sayin’,” I tease, and she blushes instantly. She stands and turns her back to me, pretending to straighten her shirt and move the stool she was sitting on, but I know she’s really just trying to hide her face. I’m getting to her—and I’ve never wanted to win a round of darts more in my life.

  Fourteen.

  “That’s on the line,” she says immediately. She’s protesting—it’s funny.

  “Let’s inspect it. Don’t you dare touch it until I get there,” I say, walking up behind her. It’s clearly a fourteen—the dart isn’t even touching any of the line. I see it, and Avery sees it. She sees it so well, she’s no longer breathing, but just standing there, staring at it, her eyes wide and her hands rolling her own darts in her fingertips.

  “Well?” I say, knowing I’m right, but wanting to snap her out of this damn trance she’s in.

  “Fine. Fourteen,” she says, turning around with a huff.

  Okay, she actually seems legitimately pissed at me now. She throws three more low numbers, and the look on her face is so stressed, it’s actually painful to watch. We go on for five more rounds, and honestly only because I have to hit a five to close it out.

  When I hit it, I almost want to lie, and say it’s on the line, just to give her a chance. I’ve gone from being willing to cheat—to win the chance to kiss Avery—to wanting to throw the damn match myself. It’s not that my feelings are hurt by her reaction to kissing me…well, maybe they’re hurt a little. But it’s more than that. I feel like I’m taking advantage of her or something, like I’m forcing her to do something she finds disgusting. I know that’s not the truth, but it just doesn’t feel right. There’s no delaying it, though, and the regret that spills through my veins when she turns to look at me—her face so fucking disappointed—just about kills me.

  I didn’t even really get to talk to her, which is what I really wanted in the first place.

  “Well, you won. Let’s get this over with,” she says, finishing the last drink from her glass, and slamming it hard on the table before wiping her lips dry with the back of her hand. She’s standing there, her arms limp at her sides, and her eyes closed, like she’s playing a boring game of hide-and-seek. This…this…is nothing like I pictured it.

  I walk closer to her, and I hold my breath so she can’t sense how close I am. I’m about to call the whole thing off, give her an out, when her bottom lip comes loose, letting out the tiniest of breaths, and I see her shiver. I take note of her hands, which are no longer limp, but balled into tight fists.

  I just need to know—just some sign that my hunch is right. I move even closer, and I can see her muscles tighten at my nearness. There are inches between our feet, and one sway of my body, or hers, and we’d be touching. I stare long and hard at her neck—that long, milky neck. Her hair falls over both shoulders. It’s long and wavy from the hair tie she was wearing earlier tonight. I reach up gently, and sweep the waves falling over her left shoulder behind her ear, and Avery’s eyes close even harder.

  She’s not telling me to stop. And I know she would if she wanted to—Avery doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to do. So I push my luck a little more, and move my lips close to her shoulder first, then her neck. I blow lightly, and every tiny hair on her neck obeys. She sucks in one more short breath, and the sound of it makes me smile.

  I spare a glance over her shoulder just to confirm we’re alone, and we are. No one is interested in us—we’re off in our own universe. Matt and Josh are snoring at the table, and I’m pretty sure Ben left with that girl from earlier.

  “So you and I…we made a bet,” I whisper in her ear. “You remember the terms?”

  Avery nods yes slowly, her lips still barely parted, and her breaths becoming quicker, no doubt to match her pulse. What I’m about to do is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. But I have to do it.

  “We said if you lost, you had to let me kiss you, right?” I say, my thumb slowly stroking the skin along her neck, slipping barely under the collar of her shirt until I touch the strap of her bra. My touch makes her quiver again, and I almost change my mind.

  “I won, didn’t I, Avery?” I say her name, because I want her to hear me call her by it—not Birdie. When she goes home tonight, I want her to think of something entirely new, a new beginning. And I don’t want any of those old memories tainting it.

  Avery nods lightly, her tongue sweeping over the center of her lips and driving me fucking mad! I breathe in slowly, and will myself to go on.

  “I’m going to kiss you then,” I say, moving both of my hands to either side of her face, cradling it until my fingers are woven deep within her hair, and she’s completely under my control. My thumb glides slowly across her lips, stopping at the center, and pausing for just a second, almost begging her to let it inside, to taste it. I move my lips closer now, too, and I turn my head, just enough so she can feel it—anticipate my touch.

  I let my nose graze against hers and then along her cheek, while I slowly turn her head to the side so I can press my lips to her ear once again. I inhale her scent, and this time, I memorize it—just in case this was it, my only moment. Then I speak against her ear, my lips touching her just enough to ignite an unbelievable desire to bite her gently.

  “But I’m not going to kiss you now,” I say, my eyes closed while I hope like hell this is the right move. “I get to kiss you, but I didn’t say when. And right now, you’re not ready. Don’t think this means I don’t want to kiss you. Because I do—I want to kiss you so goddamned hard that you can barely breathe. And one day—one day really fucking soon—I’m going to. But not tonight. Instead, tonight, I’m just going to thank my lot in life for the fact that I grew up in a bar, learning how to throw darts.”

  When I let her go, she keeps her eyes closed for another second or two before opening them, and I’m convinced I made the right
choice when I see the disappointment on her face. That’s what I want—I want her to want me to kiss her again. I could kick myself for taking it for granted the first time, and I’ll never make that mistake again.

  Her eyes are trained on mine the moment she opens them; I just push my hands in my pockets, shrug my shoulders, and give her the sincerest smile I’ve got. Then, I watch her spin around and walk away, pushing hard against the kitchen door, and vanishing—probably leaving through the back just to avoid me.

  And that’s okay. Because I know even though she didn’t confront me, I’m in her head. I’m deep in her head—and she’s going to have a hard time shaking this one.

  Chapter 9: The New Kid

  Avery

  “No, Claire, he didn’t kiss me; that’s what I said,” my friend keeps replaying my story to her over and over—hoping that one of these times it ends with Mason kissing me. But it doesn’t. It doesn’t, because Mason likes to play games, and that’s all this is. A distraction.

  “Okay, well…are you guys going to go out sometime?” she asks.

  “No. That was it—just that stupid game of darts, and an almost kiss. That’s where the story ends,” I say, looking for my orange headband to pull my hair back. I have to get Max to school—school. I don’t have time to be rehashing what ifs and do I think Mason likes me with Claire…like we’re at a slumber party.

  “I don’t get it,” Claire starts, and I can tell she’s going to dive into another round of analyzing, so I stop her.

  “I don’t get it either, Claire. But I’m done worrying about it. I have to get Max ready. I’ll call you later,” I pinch the phone between my shoulder and chin so I can slide my headband on while my friend says goodbye.