by B. N. Hale
Trees looked like a color bomb had exploded in their branches, the colors reaching surprisingly high and staining the leaves. The ground was a tapestry of vivid colors and footprints, interspersed by patches of mud.
Reed’s black hair had turned a bright green, but a patch over his ear was all orange. Purple dripped down his face onto his shoulder. Splotches of red trickled down his glasses and onto his chin, darkening the yellow on his chest.
“You’ve never looked better,” Kate said with a laugh.
She reached up and attempted to wipe the paint off his face, succeeding only in smearing the colors together. He protested and did the same to her, causing her to fend him off before he could make the mess worse. Paint splattered nearby people, nearly causing a renewed conflict.
Reed wiped the paint from his hands. “I’ve always wanted to do this war.”
She looked up from wiping color from her arms. “I assumed you’d done this before,” she said.
“Nope,” he said. “I heard about it a couple years ago but never had a date I thought would appreciate it.”
“So why me?” she asked.
“You’d mentioned your family had been military,” he said. “I hoped it had rubbed off on you. You’re certainly a good shot.” He pointed to her water gun leaning against her leg.
“I used to go shooting with my brothers and my dad,” she said. “My brothers would complain that I was better, but I think they let me win.”
He raised a purple eyebrow. “You’ll have to teach me to shoot.”
“You certainly need it,” she said with a laugh. “You missed more than my grandmother.”
“Hey!” he protested. “I contributed.”
“To our loss,” she said.
He laughed. “I can’t tell if anyone won,” he said, gesturing to the paint covered people.
“True,” she agreed. Her phone buzzed and she wiped her hand enough to pull it out. She snorted and lifted it up so they could take a picture. “The blondes want to see us post-war.”
“It’s rapidly becoming a tradition,” he said, leaning down so she could snap the picture. He smiled, and then asked, “How’s the picture?”
“Colorful,” she said.
He grinned. “That’s an understatement.”
“I don’t think I want to get into my car,” she said, examining the picture and then herself. “This may wash out, but I can’t exactly put my car though the washing machine.”
He looked at his own drenched clothing. “In my car the colors would be an upgrade.”
She laughed. “Seriously. How are we going to get clean enough to leave?”
Overhearing her question, a nearby girl pointed to the edge of the parking lot. “Don’t worry about getting clean. That’s the best part.”
“What’s the best part?” she asked.
“I didn’t get the chance to tell you,” Reed said. “The fire department should be here any moment.”
“The fire department?” she asked, turning to the parking lot.
A fire truck pulled into the lot and flicked its siren, the sound drawing the paint-spattered crowd. The firemen unloaded and began hooking up the hose to the fire hydrant. Realizing their intent, Kate’s eyes widened.
“Don’t tell me they’re going to . . .”
“Yep,” Reed grinned.
“No,” she breathed.
The firemen opened the top and water exploded from the hose. Aimed upward so as not to knock anyone down, the geyser became a sudden rainstorm that washed the colors from their bodies.
Kate gasped as freezing water fell on her and she wrapped her arms tightly around her chest. Shivering, she tried to escape, but the press of bodies did not allow it. Then Reed shook his hair, sending paint and water onto her.
“This is not how I like to shower!” she exclaimed.
He merely laughed and wiped his face clean. All around them others were doing the same, rinsing the colors into the ground at their feet. Many stood huddled against the cold, while the more adventurous danced about, calling for more.
Eager to escape the chill, Kate rinsed what she could. By the time the hose was shut off she was drenched, but passably clean. Her feet squished in the mud as they exited the park and made their way to Reed’s car.
“I have towels,” he said.
“Of course you do,” she said, shivering.
March had warmed considerably from February, but it had yet to fully embrace spring. Everyone in the lot was busy wrapping towels around their shoulders and drying off, and she noticed several families standing together, the children disappointed that the event was over.
She watched two young girls giggle as they threw lingering paint at each other. Their mother became exasperated in her attempt to usher them into the van. Kate found herself wondering what type of mother she would be.
“Ready?” Reed asked, handing her a towel.
She wrapped it around her shoulders and dried herself off, grateful she hadn’t worn clothing that would be revealing when wet. More towels were in the car and she did her best to keep any color from getting on the seat. Reed was less concerned.
“It’ll wipe out,” he said, turning the car on.
“I’ve never done anything like this,” she said, gesturing to the park.
“There’s a lot of fun things to do if you have the inclination to look,” Reed said.
“Few have the inclination to look.”
He raised an eyebrow at her tone, and she smiled sadly. “I’ve had several boyfriends,” she said. “None would have thought to do this for a date.”
“And Jason?”
His question had no animosity, and instead sounded like a concerned friend. She smiled, realizing she’d hardly thought of him since their first date together. Guys didn’t want to talk about past relationships, but with Reed that rule seemed not to apply.
“Our most exciting date was to the IHOP,” she said with a smile.
“The IHOP can be very exciting,” he agreed. “But only when you order from their secret menu.”
“They have a secret menu?”
“Of course,” he said. “Their bacon and banana stack is divine.”
She looked out the window and watched the van she’d seen earlier. The parents were done buckling their children and stood outside their door. Their words were not audible but their kiss said it all. She was surprised she hadn’t noticed the father before, but now that she looked around, she noticed a handful of fathers also with their children.
She cast a surreptitious glance at Reed. His attention was on the traffic attempting to leave the lot, and he didn’t notice her scrutiny. A few patches of paint were still on his face and lightening his black hair, but the color only seemed to make him more attractive.
She found herself wondering if her dating challenge would work. Would he fall for her? Or was she just a game? Abruptly he glanced her way. Caught, she grinned and pointed to the van, where the father was just climbing into the driver’s seat.
“It’s good to see a father playing with his kids,” she said.
“I wouldn’t know,” he said. “That certainly wasn’t mine.”
“Do you think they start out good? Or do they become good fathers after they’re married?”
“Are you asking how to know if a guy will be a good father?”
“I suppose I am,” she said.
He laughed lightly. “You mentioned marriage last time, and now fatherhood. Do you always talk about such heavy topics on dates?”
She shrugged. “I’m curious. You’ve been on what, hundreds of dates? Surely you have an idea of what the girl would be like in the future.”
He scratched at a piece of paint on his check. “Some of those I’ve dated are now married, and I’ve seen them with their husbands.”
“Really?”
“My roommate met his girlfriend because she went on a date with me.”
Kate snorted in amusement. “And that’s not awkward?”
�
��It would have been,” he said, and threw her a smile, “if I hadn’t held to my rules.”
For the first time Kate considered his dating rules beyond the context of a single date. With no intimacy there was little risk of drama, and friends could stay friends. She frowned as she recalled a former friend.
“Sandy Wilson,” she said aloud.
“Who?”
“We were friends our junior year in high school,” Kate said. “We both liked the same guy but he became my boyfriend. Then I found out they were sleeping together, and never talked to her again.”
“Sounds like it was hard,” he replied.
“It was,” she said. “I really liked him. He was the one I lost my . . .”
She’d never had qualms about admitting the depth of her past relationships before, but with Reed she found herself flushing in embarrassment. Reed clearly understood but he shifted the topic with ease, saving her from finishing the sentence.
“Ready for lunch?”
“Does it involve paint?” she asked warily.
He smiled. “Not this time.”
Chapter 4
As they drove through town they talked about the color war like two players reminiscing about a great game. Reed had seen a guy take a water balloon in the face, while Kate had spotted a kid wearing combat fatigues running around screaming with his father. Similarly garbed, the man tried to keep his son under control.
They laughed and talked all the way to another park, this one all but hidden at the corner of the city. Reed pulled into the empty lot and he found a spot. Sufficiently dry, Kate exited the vehicle to examine the out-of-the way spot.
Overgrown shrubs and trees dotted the park, while the lack of cars indicated it was rarely used. Containing a small playground and a basketball court, the park offered little else except a few stretches of grass. Forest surrounded the park like a baseball glove around a ball.
A sign indicated the park would soon be replaced with a subdivision, and Kate suspected that few had lamented its loss. Still, the grass was cut and the court was clean, and she liked the solitude after the color war.
“What are we doing here?” she asked.
“Lunch,” he responded. “I hope you’re good at basketball.”
She turned to find him closing his trunk, a bag of basketballs in his hand. Each had been covered in a different color, turning them into a rainbow. He grinned as he pointed to the basketball court in the park.
“It’s St. Patrick’s Day,” he said. “And what would it be without a rainbow and a pot of gold?”
Now that he’d pointed it out, she spotted the wrapping around the hoop. Black paper had been taped around the rim and net to resemble a large cauldron. She grinned and walked with him towards the court.
“Does anyone ever think your dates are stupid?”
“Of course not.” Then his lips twitched and he amended. “Sometimes.”
She laughed. “Where’s lunch?”
“We have to earn it,” he replied. “Once we’ve each scored the rainbow, we get to eat.”
“What if I finish before you?”
He grinned. “Then you get to enjoy the show while you eat.”
“Challenge accepted.”
They reached the court and Kate spotted the chalk lines placed on the court. Red was closest to the hoop, while purple was a half-court shot, the rest staggered in their distance and angle. He placed the balls at their appropriate spots and then returned to the red, a layup.
“Ladies first,” he said.
She accepted the ball and banked it into the ‘cauldron’ with ease. He made the same attempt, but it ricocheted off with a clang, and she erupted in laughter. He flashed a mock scowl and stabbed a finger to orange at the free-throw line.
“I’ll catch up.”
“Sure you will,” she said.
He laughed, and for the next several minutes they traded shots. It quickly became evident that he was decent, but lacked the skill of a seasoned player. She’d played with her brothers and father, and learned to shoot from them. Within fifteen minutes she finished blue, a three-point shot from the corner.
“It appears I underestimated you,” he said, still standing at yellow.
“Do you always pick activities you can’t win?” she asked innocently.
He flashed his easy smile. “Perhaps.”
She paused in dribbling the ball as she realized he hadn’t chosen basketball because it was his talent. He’d done it to discover hers. Most guys wanted to demonstrate their superiority. She’d always found it irritating to watch a guy strut like a peacock fanning his tail feathers.
And guys who lost to girls frequently became annoyed. She cast him a sideways look, but saw no hint of irritation. He seemed amused at her skill. After Jason, who loved sports but thought her place was to sit on the sideline, she’d forgotten what it was like to feel supported.
Distracted, her first attempt at the half-court shot missed wide. He collected the ball and tossed it back to her, and then shot his own, which bounced off the rim and out. Laughing at his own miss, he gestured to her.
“This is the wildest game of horse I’ve ever played,” she said.
“I as well,” he replied.
“Do you always do themed dates?”
He shrugged. “When the occasion permits. In my experience girls like a theme.”
“And guys don’t care,” she said, lining up another shot, and another miss.
“True,” he said, finally making the yellow shot with a lucky bounce.
His celebration ended abruptly as her half court shot swished the net and came out of the cauldron. She laughed at his crestfallen expression and caught the ball when it bounced by. Then she stepped to him.
“I’m famished,” she said brightly. “Where’s lunch?”
“In the box,” he said. “Try not to finish before I do.”
“I’ll eat slow,” she said.
She took a seat next to the box and leaned against a tree. The lunch proved to be entirely green, with even the bread of the sandwiches a shade of the color. As she sipped the green tea she watched him attempting the half-court shot.
“This is delicious,” she called.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it!”
He shot.
And missed.
“You did say the meal came with a show,” she said.
He laughed as he collected the ball and tried again. “I live to entertain.”
“You’re doing it wrong,” she called out.
He held up the ball. “This may come as a surprise,” he said, “but my family is full of nerds.”
“You didn’t play any sports?”
“Chess.”
She laughed. “Is that all?”
“I played lacrosse in high school,” he said with a smile, “and I do snowboard.”
“But not basketball.”
“Nope.”
She stood and left the lunch behind. Joining him at the half court line, she took the ball from him and showed him how to hold it. Then she tossed it into the air, rolling her hand so it added a nice spin.
“You have to loft the ball,” she said, and smiled as she added, “like a rainbow.”
He gave a passable attempt as he shot the ball, but again it bounced off the rim. “It might as well be a mile,” he said.
She stepped to the bouncing ball and caught it. Returning to him, she said, “You need to aim for the back of the hoop, not the front.”
He shot again. “How much did you play?”
“Every week,” she said, smiling at the memory. “Baker, my oldest brother, would always play on my team and I would guard my dad.”
“Did they take it easy on you?”
“When I was a kid,” she said. “But when I started making three’s my dad started guarding me.”
“I never really got the chance to play basketball,” he said. “My sister wasn’t interested in sports and my mom was too busy working to take me to games after my dad
left.”
“That’s too bad,” she said. “You have promise, but you’re holding the ball wrong.”
She picked up the ball from the latest miss and handed it to Reed. Then she reached up and stabilized his hands on the ball, moved his other hand to the side. She shifted his fingers, the act forcing her to lean against him.
All at once she became conscious of the contact, of her hand pressed against his, the feel of his skin. She swallowed, the soft touch sparking heat down her arm and into her stomach. Her eyes flicked to him and found his gaze on her. She could feel every curve of his hip against hers.
“Is that how you do it?” he murmured.
“That’s how you do it,” she said softly.
She retreated and focused on the hoop, directing him to shoot. With her back to him she imagined his hand snaking around her stomach, pulling her close to kiss her neck. The image was so vivid she trembled, but he didn’t close the gap.
“Whenever you’re ready,” she said.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw him bend and shoot, and the ball soared through the air. It bounced off the back of the hoop and sank into the net, re-emerging from the cauldron fastened to the rim. The shot broke the spell of the moment and she nodded in satisfaction.
“You’re getting better.”
“I’m getting lucky,” he said. “Without you I would have been out here all day.”
“On that we can agree,” she said.
He gestured to the meal in the shade. “Ready to eat?”
“I was ready before you,” she said. “Remember?”
He laughed. “I suspect you won’t let me forget.”
“Never,” she said, but her eyes dropped to his hands, which he held at his side. It may have been her imagination, but it seemed there was a rigidity to his arms, as if he were holding himself in check.
Chapter 5
They ate in the shade, and although he noticed several piercing looks, neither commented on the moment on the court. As she added green croutons to her salad the conversation turned from the date to the past.
“Have you ever had a serious girlfriend?” she asked.
“Will you judge me if I say no?”
