by Chris Cannon
“You’re delaying the inevitable.” He leaned over the table, guarding his goal.
His dark hair fell in waves across his forehead. His blue eyes shone like he knew victory was moments away. And he was smirking at me. I was caught between wanting to kiss him or whacking him upside the head with my paddle.
“And it all comes down to the final point,” I said in a mock sportscaster voice. Setting the puck down, I smashed it across the table. He whacked it back toward me. I blocked. It ricocheted toward his goal. He blocked and smacked it diagonally, going for a slap shot. I blocked, and it ricocheted in the opposite direction, sliding into my goal. The buzzer went off.
“No.” I threw my head back. “I want a rematch.”
He spun his paddle in his hand, smiling in a way which made my heart beat faster. “Maybe later. Right now, I want to shoot zombies.”
I wanted him to kiss me. But I didn’t say that out loud. I pretended to pout. “Fine.”
On the way across the room, he put his arm around my waist, guiding me through the crowd.
For the next ten minutes, we shot the living dead. And I was a better shot. Which I refrained from pointing out. After ten minutes of play we both died. The scores came up on the screen, and I had beaten him by 15,000. Jumping up and down, I said, “Woo hoo. I won.”
Someone bumped into me. Off balance, I careened into Grant’s chest. “Sorry. Maybe these weren’t the best shoes to wear.”
His gaze traveled down to my shoes and back up again. “I like the shoes.”
I was three seconds from launching myself at his lips. He grinned like he knew what I was thinking. He pointed toward the guy’s restroom. “I’m going to make a pit stop and then I think we should go outside and get some air.”
Waiting by the House of the Dead Game, I imagined all the possible ways the date could go from here. Air? Did that mean let’s kiss on the patio? Or did that mean he was warm? Yet another question in the minefield of dating. Some girl should write a guide deciphering all the things guys say.
Grant returned from the restroom with an odd expression on his face, like he was confused. He didn’t say anything, so I didn’t ask. He held my hand as we headed out the side door where Edison’s had patio tables, chairs, and benches. Chillbumps broke out on my skin. Instinct told me to move closer to Grant, to share his body heat. But, I didn’t want to seem too eager. Stupid, I know. Like he hadn’t figured out I wanted to kiss him.
Another shiver ran through me, and this time Grant put his arm around my shoulders. Yay me.
Couples sat at tables talking or kissing. Actually most of the couples were kissing. In my head I did a small happy dance. Grant wanted to kiss me. He headed toward an unoccupied bench. We sat, and he kept his arm around me, but he didn’t lean in like he planned to kiss me. Instead, he said, “I think Delia and Aiden going on a date was a mistake.”
What? I stared at him trying to figure out what was going on, because A. He wasn’t kissing me. B. He wanted to talk about our friends. Wow. Maybe the off the shoulder sweater didn’t work for me after all.
Once my brain re-engaged, I said, “Why do you say that?”
“He probably sees her as a puzzle to solve. I don’t think he’s interested in someone like Delia.”
And he’d just flipped my bitch switch. “What do you mean someone like Delia? She’s awesome. And if he didn’t like her, why did he ask her on a date?”
“He didn’t.”
I replayed the events that led up to the date. Damn it. Grant was right. He’d suggested a double date and Aiden had gone along with the idea. “But Delia is great. Once he gets to know her I’m sure he’ll like her.”
“She’s not his type.” He moved his arm from my shoulders and leaned back.
Two things were becoming painfully clear. He hadn’t asked me out here to kiss me, and he was saying things he knew would piss me off. I leaned in. “It’s almost like you’re trying to start a fight with me.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Right. We were inside, having fun playing air hockey and shooting zombies. You went to the restroom. Now, we’re out here, and you want to talk about someone else’s date.” I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold in body heat. “So, who said what to you in the restroom to transform the guy I was having fun with into the tool who knows I’m cold but won’t put his arm around my shoulders?”
“Now I’m a tool?”
My eyes burned. “Pretty much. And you know what, this isn’t a game I want to play.” Blinking my eyes to keep angry tears at bay, I stood and headed into Edison’s. I would find Delia and we’d call someone to come get us. Problem solved. I stalked across the patio, sneering at all the happy couples. What the hell was wrong with Grant?
Light flashed off purple hair. Delia and Aiden were making out at one of the tables near the door. A funny hollow feeling invaded my chest. Her date was going much better than mine.
I wanted to grab her and tell her about Grant’s weird personality shift, but interrupting their kiss would be mortifying for all involved, so I marched into the girl’s bathroom, and locked myself in a stall. Now what? Eventually Delia would come find me. When I wasn’t with Grant, she’d check the restroom.
Five minutes later I realized my plan sucked. Why was I hiding in the bathroom? I wasn’t the one who’d messed up. There was no telling when Delia would come up for air. Screw this. I headed back out into the game area and back over to the House of the Dead. Shooting zombies and watching their heads explode would make me feel better.
Chapter Sixteen
Grant
Zoe wasn’t stupid. I had run into someone who changed my mood about the date, but it wasn’t in the guy’s bathroom. It was halfway across the room. A tall blonde in a tight skirt had given me a green-light smile. If I hadn’t been on a date, I would’ve gone over and taken her number. Instead, I’d gone back to Zoe, who was smiling at me like she couldn’t be happier. Then we’d come out on the patio, where—pre-tall blonde running around in my brain—I’d wanted to kiss her. Now, I didn’t want Zoe to think we were a couple. And I didn’t want everyone at Edison’s to see us and think we were a couple. So I’d tried to start a fight.
And she’d called me on it. Now what?
I needed to find Aiden and tell him the date was over. We’d give the girls a ride home. He’d probably be happy to end the date. After all, hanging with Delia had to be awkward. Plan in mind, I headed back inside. Spotting Aiden and Delia attached at the mouth shot my plan to hell. No reason for him to end his date early.
Inside Edison’s, I spotted the blonde who’d smiled at me standing with a guy who looked like he was in college. She didn’t even acknowledge me. He glared at me, clenching his fists. The blonde touched his chest and said something that took his focus off me. Then he kissed her.
I’d been played. She’d used me to make the guy she wanted jealous. I’d screwed up my date for no good reason. I needed to find Zoe and try to dig myself out of this grave. The game room was crowded, and since she was short, I had to weave through the crowd looking for her. I spotted her playing the House of the Dead game. I sidled up next to her and waited for her to notice me.
Without taking her eyes off the screen, she said, “I’m pretending that zombie is you.” She pulled the trigger, brains exploded across the screen, and she smiled.
“I deserve that.” More brains splattered across the screen. A group of zombies came out of nowhere. She’d be dead if she took them on by herself. I slid my Edison’s card through the reader and picked up the other gun shooting the zombie closest to her.
“I had that guy,” she said.
“Just trying to help.”
“You shoot the guys with the chainsaws. I’ll get the other ones.”
“Okay.” Letting someone else call the shots went against my instinct. Then again, my instincts were sucking tonight.
When we’d cleared a level, and the story played, I had about thirty seconds to say somethi
ng before the next horde of zombies descended. “I was a jerk.”
“And?”
I pointed my gun off screen, pulling the trigger to reload. “And I’ll try not to be one again.”
“That wasn’t much of an apology.”
The game started. We shot zombies until we ran out of lives.
“Game over,” Zoe said. “Would you go get Aiden and ask him to drive me home?”
“We could play again.”
“Not interested.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me. “I’m done with this game.”
Had I really thought she wasn’t the type to hold a grudge?
…
Zoe
Grant disappeared into the crowd of people. His non-apology didn’t do much for the acid surging in my stomach. Neither did watching all the girls glance his way as he walked by. It was impossible not to notice him. He was gorgeous, but that didn’t make up for the fact that he was an ass. What really made my head hurt was the fact that Jack had been right all along. I should have stayed away from Grant.
Delia came toward me smiling like a kid with a new toy. Then she saw the expression on my face and whacked Grant on the arm. “What did you do?”
Grant glared at Delia, but said nothing.
I didn’t want to get into this in the middle of Edison’s. “Can we leave?”
“Sure.” Aiden pulled the keys from his pocket. “You two wait by the door and I’ll get the car.”
Aiden and Grant took off for the car, and Delia gave me a questioning look. “Talk now, or later?”
“Later.” Angry tears heated my eyes. If I tried to talk about the debacle my date had become I’d lose control and cry.
She pulled me into a hug. “We can make voodoo dolls if you want.”
“Thanks.”
The ride home was awkward. No one spoke. When we reached my house, I flung the door open. Delia called out. “Be there in a minute.” I didn’t know if she was kissing Aiden goodnight, or threatening Grant. Knowing her, it was probably both.
I heard the door slam, and someone jogging across the lawn. “Zoe, wait.”
On my home turf, I was ready for a fight. “Wait for what, Grant? Wait for you to figure out if there’s another girl you’d rather be with than me? On our date?”
He opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything.
“I knew it. Some girl flirts with you on the way to the bathroom, and you decide you’d rather kiss her than me?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
My hands balled into fists. I wanted to punch him. If I thought I could do any damage I would have. “I’ve heard of guys who have trouble with the grass being greener, but never in the middle of a date.”
“It’s not like I asked for the girl’s phone number. I’m—”
I poked him in the chest. “I’m going into the house and I’m going to load one of the shotguns. If you’re still here when I look out that window again, I will shoot your sorry ass and bury your body behind the barn where no one will ever find you. Do you understand?”
“We’ll talk later.” He backed up and headed for the car.
I stormed into the house, grabbed a shotgun off the wall and the box of shells from the china cabinet.
My grandmother came in. “Oh, dear. I take it the date didn’t go well.”
“No.” I loaded the gun.
“While I appreciate your intent, I can’t let you shoot the boy.”
I cocked the gun and headed for the front door. “I told him if he wasn’t gone by the time I loaded the gun, I’d shoot him.”
My grandmother followed behind me. “Well, as long as you gave him fair warning.”
The front door swung open, and Delia pointed at the shotgun. “Drama much? But they’re gone.”
I pushed past her and saw she was right. Tail lights weren’t even visible, which meant Aiden had floored it.
My grandmother held out her hand. “I’ll take care of the gun.”
I squeezed the cold metal barrel of the shotgun. “I really want to shoot something.”
“Tomorrow when it’s light out and we won’t risk killing any innocent critters, we’ll go shoot cans off the fence out back.”
“Fine.” I passed her the gun and headed for the stairs. “Let’s go to my room.”
Delia followed, and we both sat cross-legged on my bed.
“Any time you’re ready,” Delia said.
I grabbed a pillow and hugged it to my chest as I told her about Grant’s reversal of interest. “I don’t know who he met, or what she said to him. He was gone five minutes, at the most. What could the girl have said or done in that amount of time to make him lose interest?”
“That asshole.” Delia squinted like she was plotting something. “He loves that car. I think we should slash his tires.”
“Or put sugar in his gas tank.” It was a fun fantasy, but prison orange wasn’t my color.
“Sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me,” Delia said.
“I didn’t want to ruin your date.”
Delia gave a slow grin. “For a guy who drives a beige Volvo, he’s pretty hot.”
“How did you two end up in clinch? He doesn’t seem like a guy who’d make the first move.”
Delia wrinkled her nose. “It wasn’t him. He was arguing with me, so I leaned over and bit him on the neck.”
No way. “What did he do?”
“He froze. After I breathed in his ear, he caught on.”
“Wow. Maybe I should have tried that with Grant.”
“It would be a waste of time. He’s one of those grass is greener kind of guys. Maybe Aiden has another friend he could introduce you to.”
“That’s not a bad idea.” I laid the pillow flat in my lap and smoothed out the pillow case. “It’s not a good idea, but it’s not bad. The thing that makes me want to blow Grant’s head off is the way he runs hot and cold. I’m not asking to be his girlfriend, but when a guy is on a date with me, he should be with me, not sniffing around for something better.”
“Whoever it was, she wasn’t better. She was a distraction. Now, it’s time to plot.”
…
Grant
As he drove me home, I told Aiden what happened between Zoe and me.
“Thank you for ruining what was turning out to be an interesting date.” Aiden pulled up to my house and threw the car in park.
“You don’t even like Delia. You said so yourself.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like her, I said I didn’t understand her.” He adjusted his glasses. “How hot could that blonde have been to make you throw me, Zoe, and Delia under the bus?”
“Unreal hot, and I didn’t throw you under the bus.”
“You tried to start a fight based on my date. Which means Zoe would’ve come to check on Delia and tell her what you said. Which means Delia and I would’ve ended up fighting.”
“Okay. It was a dick move.”
“It was and you need to find a way to make it up to Zoe, or they will seek revenge. In case you didn’t notice, they both have a temper and an evil streak, which is part of what makes them so interesting. Now get out of my car.”
I headed inside, avoiding the living room where my mother and father would be watching TV and not speaking to each other. Chalk their relationship up as another thing I didn’t understand. Men always looked at my mother in a way that made me uncomfortable. My dad didn’t seem to notice or no longer cared. I may not know what I wanted from Zoe, but I sure as hell didn’t want to end up like my parents, arguing about who was higher up the social ladder.
The blonde from Edison’s had been dressed like Lena and her friends. She was the type of girl my mom would approve of. Zoe, not so much. If I’d screwed things up with Zoe, what did that mean, aside from the fact that she might try to bald me or blow up my car?
I headed to my room and stared at the fish swimming circles in the saltwater tank. Around and around they went. All they wanted was food and clean water. Wha
t did I want? I knew what I didn’t want. I didn’t want Lena, and I didn’t want a girl like her. Which left me what? Dating a girl like Zoe? Not that I’d met any other girls like her.
I pictured the blonde with her long legs and short skirt. Then I remembered her with that college guy. Next came Zoe, cheering as she shot the heads off zombies. Was that what I wanted? I didn’t know, but I needed to find a way to make this right.
Sitting down at my desk, I opened my laptop and searched for all night florists who delivered. I checked the time. It was eleven thirty. Zoe and Delia would still be up. I pulled out my American Express card and made the call.
…
Zoe
Delia and I were watching a space aliens marathon, when my cell buzzed. Who was texting me at midnight? I checked the message.
“I was an idiot. Please open your front door for the delivery guy on your porch.”
“What the hell?” I showed Delia. We hopped up and looked out the picture window. There was a guy in a black tuxedo, holding a huge bouquet of roses.
“Again,” I said. “What the hell?”
“There’s only one way to find out.” Delia unlocked the door.
The cute delivery guy in the tux said, “You must be Delia.”
“Creepy.” Delia started to close the door.
“Wait.” The delivery guy stepped forward. “Grant told me you had purple streaks in your hair, so I’d know who was who. And I get that you think I’m a serial killer, but these are for Zoe.”
I pulled the door open wider. “I’m Zoe.”
He thrust the bouquet of multi colored roses at me. “There’s a card, but Grant wanted me to tell you, since there wasn’t a rose color that means I was a moron, he picked one of every color. Actually, he didn’t say moron, but I’m not allowed to curse on the job.” He gave a small bow. “If you’ll excuse me, there is an idiot twenty minutes from here who told his pregnant girlfriend she looks fat.”
“Oh.” I cringed.
“Yeah, not sure the flowers will help him. But hey, it’s an interesting job. Goodnight ladies.”
Delia and I retreated to the kitchen where I put the roses in a vase. Their fragrant scent filled the air.
