Chapter 4

 

 

“Ready for the List?” he asked, scooping their stuffing onto plates.

She poured the strawberries into two bowls and set them on the table, taking a seat next to Reed. “Ready,” she said, taking a bite.

“Mountains or beach?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s a rather basic question, isn’t it?”

He pretended to be offended. “Don’t disparage the List. You might say beach and tell me it’s because you love the sand in your toes, or that you like to surf, both things I wouldn’t know about you. Or you might say mountains because you enjoy the snow.”

“What would you say?” he asked.

“Mountains,” he said. “I love the snow and winter, and love to snowboard.”

“I remember you mentioned that,” she said. “I’ve never been.”

“Then I get the extreme privilege of teaching you,” he said with a smile. “Now your turn.”

Torn, she took a strawberry and considered her answer. “You know I love hiking and the mountains,” she said. “But I would have to say the beach. There’s just something magical about the ocean at twilight.”

“The sun setting over the ocean is nice,” he agreed.

“Next question?”

“Stars or storms?” he asked.

Surprised by the clever question, she considered her answer. “Storms,” she said. “Wrapped in a blanket while a storm rages is indescribable.”

“Me too,” he said. “Especially a snowstorm. Reading when the snow is falling, all sound muffled and quiet, was one of my favorite things growing up.”

“I thought you grew up in Tallahassee.”

“My family moved there when I was kid,” he said.

“I didn’t know that,” she said, skewering her last strawberry. “Where did you live before that?”

“Colorado,” he said. “Denver, actually.”

“You lived here?” she asked, surprised.

“I don’t remember much,” he said. “But I remember learning to snowboard and playing in the snow.”

As they ate, the questions continued. Batman or Superman. Winter or summer. Raspberry or strawberry. Each resulted in stories and laughter, of events and moments from their lives. They only made it through six questions by the time they were done with dinner and dessert, and she’d learned more about him than she’d ever expected.

They both liked raspberries, him because his grandfather had raspberry bushes in his garden, her because of raspberry pie her mother had made every holiday. She preferred summer while he liked winter. Both liked Batman.

“We’d better go,” he said, checking the clock on the stove. “We have the activity to get to.”

“It’s after eight,” she said, surprised.

The remains of their odd meal lay scattered across the table and she tried to recall when she’d finished her pie. It had been delicious, but the conversation with Reed dominated her attention.

“This activity is better at night,” he said, rising and gathering his keys from the counter.

She recalled the invitation. “We play pool but not in a hall, for the ground is where we’ll hunt the ball. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

They cleaned up their dinner and returned to his car, but he stopped on the way out and picked up a pair of pool cues from the coat closet, which didn’t have any coats. She raised an eyebrow at the choice.

“Most pool tables come with their own cues,” she said. “But I suppose we aren’t playing in a hall?”

“Nope,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind getting a little dirty.”

She looked down at her jeans and dark shirt. “Are we getting dirty together?”

“Probably,” he said with a laugh.

They returned to his car and drove to the southern side of town. The List continued in the car, but they only got through a single question, the stories inspired by the question taking the entire drive to tell, and only stopped when they pulled into a mini-golf course.

“I thought we were playing pool,” she said.

“We are,” he replied. “But as you’ll recall, I did say it would be on the ground.”

She frowned, and then realized what he was suggesting. “We’re going to play miniature golf . . . with pool cues?”

“Yes,” he said.

She laughed, the sound tinged with admiration. “Really?”

“I brought towels if you don’t want to lay on the ground.”

“I don’t mind,” she said, excited at the prospect.

They walked up to the hut at the entrance, their pool cues in hand. The girl behind the counter saw them and smiled, rising to her feet. Then her eyes flicked to the pool cues and her eyes widened. She turned to Reed like he was someone to be worshiped.

“Reed?” she asked. “I wasn’t sure you’d follow through.”

“Thanks for letting us do this,” Reed said.

“Are you kidding?” the girl asked, her tag identifying her as Anna. “This is the most exciting thing I’ve ever seen on this job.”

Reed paid and they made their way to the first hole, a windmill that spun over the track. The night traffic was light, with only a few other visitors to the course, another couple and a trio of girls on the seventeenth hole.

He placed the ball on the mat and then eyed the track like a pool player examining the angles. Kate stifled a laugh at his serious expression. Then Reed turned to Kate, a grin on his face as he offered the stick to her.

“Would you like to go first?”

“Such a gentleman,” she said, taking the stick. “Or is it because you’ve never done this and want me to go first?”

“Can’t it be both?”

She laughed and laid down on the ground, lining up the cue for a shot. She was highly aware of Reed watching her back and tried not to let it distract her as she aimed. A smile on her face, she timed her shot to miss the windmill and then hit the ball.

The impact sent the ball tumbling away. Her aim was good but she hadn’t hit the ball hard enough and it slowed as it approached the windmill. She cringed when it reached the top of the incline, the windmill spinning towards the golf ball. The windmill and ball came together, the ball bouncing off the wood and spinning under the structure.

She watched it shoot the gap and careen down the following slope to the circle of green. It missed the hole and bounced off the far wall, ricocheting back toward the hole. It slowed but continued to roll . . . and tipped in for a hole-in-one.

She rose to her feet and turned to Reed, who stood, dumbfounded. She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “That’s how it’s done,” she said.

“I should have gone first,” he said ruefully.

“No,” she said. “I think I like going first.”

He grinned and lay down, using his own stick to aim at the ball. She watched him, admiring the view as he sighted along the pool cue, wondering why she got to be so lucky to have him as her boyfriend.

He hit the ball and it went spinning away. It missed the windmill by inches and went straight down the slope, but bounced out of the hole and spun away. He scowled and rose to his feet, turning to her.

“Just missed the corner pocket,” he said.

“You’re good at pool,” she said. “Where’d you learn?”

“My sister, actually,” Reed said. “She coped with my parent’s breakup by hanging out in our basement. She got so she could beat us all, but I did pick up a few things.”

“You still missed,” she said, poking him in the stomach. “And I’m winning.”

“The night is young,” he said.

They moved to the green and he crouched next to his ball. The bushes didn’t allow for a full shot so he unscrewed the bottom half of the cue and used just the top half. Still, the gap forced him to contort his body in a laughable pose to hit the ball. She snorted in disbelief as he tapped the ball into the hole.

“Does mine do that?” She motioned to the detachable cue.

“Of course,” he said. “You didn’t think I’d give myself an advantage, did you? Besides, we both know you play. I asked your mom and she said you played with your brothers. That’s why I thought you’d like this game.”

“I still think it’s strange that you’ve talked to my mom,” she said.

“I’ve only spoken to her a few times,” he said. “There were a few of our early dates that none of your roommates could help with, and Ember gave me her number. Do you mind?”

“No,” Kate said. “But she would probably like to talk to you more.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because she’s always wants to talk to the guys I date. She doesn’t realize it’s weird.” She gestured to the tee of the second hole. “Your turn to go first.”

He lay down and took aim, and the ball went sailing into a tube that connected to a second platform. She followed suit, but this time he lay down at her side. She glanced his way and raised an eyebrow, but he merely smiled.

“Are you trying to distract me?”

“Of course,” he said, leaning over to brush his lips against her cheek. “You don’t mind, do you?”

She smiled and shook her head. “It’s not going to work.”

She trembled when his breath brushed her neck, and struggled to focus, but failed utterly, the ball bouncing off the wall and missing the tube entirely. It fell down a slope to a different platform.

“Turnabout is fair play,” she said, standing and facing him.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied.