“Fine with me. After you,” I tell her with a sweeping arm to motion her forward to the line.
Her first throw hits a triple on the 20, and I curse. She chuckles and throws again, this time getting closer to the bullseye on the 19. Her third hits the double line on the 14. She goes up to the scoreboard and marks the 107 total,bringing her score down to 394 already. The object is to be the first to get the score to 0, and finish by hitting either the bullseye or the double line.
“Ok, ok, not bad,” I tell her as she approaches me, holding out the darts with a smug smile for me to take my turn.
“Hmmm, think you can do better?” she challenges.
“Only one way to find out,” I say as I roll my shoulders.
I move forward to the line and take aim, watching my first throw hit a double on 18 with a satisfying thump. Another throw. Thump. It hits the bullseye, and I whoop at the same time I hear her curse. I look back at her, and can’t help but laugh at her gorgeously disgruntled expression. The way her eyes are flashing and narrowed, her cheeks a little pink, and her brow knitted with determination to do better next time, should not be so completely endearing. She shakes her head ruefully when she sees me laugh and gives me a shy smile. My third throw hits a double for 11, putting my score at 108. We’re in a dead heat, with me just a point ahead. When I offer her the darts back with a bump to her shoulder, I even get her to laugh.
“Ok, I’m not holding back this round since you’re apparently a ringer,” she jokes.
“What did I say about never going easy on me?” I tease back.
She most definitely does not go easy this time. She racks up 120 points in her second round, including a bullseye. Her confidence and ease is starting to shine through. The woman actually boops my nose as she says, “Your turn,” in a playful singsong.
Just that small touch and the whiff of something spiced and floral from her wrist so close to my nose makes me want to draw her closer, wrap my arm tightly around her, but Ihold myself in check. My chest pinches painfully seeing her smiling and laughing now like she usually does when she’s here, and that I’m the one who’s making it happen. Her downcast face completely gutted me when she first walked in, even though she tried to mask it.
“So is it working? Throwing pointy things?” I ask with my back to her as I take my first throw. Damn it. Only a 16, just shy of the bullseye. I look back at her, and she has her arms crossed across her chest, holding her wine with a soft expression.
“Yeah, it’s working. Thanks, Gage,” she replies quietly.
“Anytime. You know, Iama bartender.”
“You don’t say,” she deadpans.
“That means listening is approximately two-thirds of my job, if you need someone to listen. I’m pretty good at it.”
I turn back around, the thunk of my second dart hitting a double on 20 slightly mingling with the muffled music and noise pouring down the hallway from the main bar. In spite of that, it feels like we’re in our own little bubble back here, the noise a faraway din that doesn’t concern us. I throw my third dart squarely into the triple 12 slot. Because of the little bubble we’re in, I’m so attuned to her when I finally hear her sigh quietly. I go back to hand her the darts, which she takes, bringing her other hand up to briefly squeeze my shoulder.
“You’ve done plenty just by taking me back here and getting my mind off of things with a game,” she says. “It’s just been a long, tough day that you’ve thankfully made better. Can I get back to kicking your ass now?”
I can’t help throwing my head back laughing.
“By all means, do your worst.”
Just as she steps up to the line, I hear the all too familiar voice of my dad calling my name. I haven’t seen him in thefew days since he announced his bullshit marriage decree, but it’s impossible for me to stay too mad at him. I know he’s doing it because he thinks it’ll help me.
“I’m back here, Dad, playing darts,” I call. Celeste is tense as she steps back from the line and turns toward me.
“Am I about to get you in trouble?” she asks with a worried divot in her brow.
“Not at all. I didn’t even know he’d be coming in tonight, but he’ll be thrilled the dart board is getting some use,” I assure her. He comes down the hallway just then, smiling at me, then smiling even bigger when he sees Celeste.
“Hey, pops! Didn’t know you were coming in, what’s up?” He brings me into a backslapping hug.
“Just checking on things and going over the books with Wayne, he came in too. Now please introduce me to this lovely lady,” he says as he turns toward Celeste.
“This is my friend Celeste. Celeste, this is my dad, Julio Cabrera.”
My dad extends his hand toward her, and I know she clocks the slight tremor in it as she hesitantly takes it, giving him a firm shake.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Cabrera,” she says respectfully, which I know will win points with him.
“Please, just Julio is fine. It’s great to meet any friend of Gagey’s,” he tells her, letting go and giving me an approving side eye.
I like her, his expression says.
