Page 41 of Break Point

“I gave you an extra one. I don’t need it.”

The charged laugh that spills from her lips is almost better than the giggle from earlier. Jaden’s garnered a bit of an audience now, including two girls who look like they’re maybe twelve or thirteen and are definitely rooting for the girl to beat the boy.

Jaden slows down this time, holding each ball in both hands as she sets her focus on the smallest target. She sinks the first ball but misses with the second, barely earning any points after it ricochets off the edge. She regroups, though, turning to her two young fans to pound knuckles for good luck. By the time the last ball is in her hand, she’s easily eclipsed me. If I’ve learned anything about Jaden Johnson, there was zero chance we were walking away tied. She’s all or nothing, and sometimes, I bet that’s exhausting—the lack of compromise, even with herself. She doesn’t know any other way, though.

Jaden brings the ball up to her chin, then drops her lips on it, a kiss for good luck, before lowering her arm and swinging the ball back to give it enough speed. It races up the ramp and launches toward the hundred-point hole, sinking in and sending a row of tickets pouring out of her machine.

“Hell yeah!” she says with a fist pump, turning to her fans for high fives, then quickly tearing off her tickets to begin her count.

I already know she’s won. I’ve come here a lot during my time at Cordon, and I know the way these machines work like the back of my hand. This is my place, or at least it was when I needed it. I couldn’t throw a football for a year, but I could toss a Skee-Ball. Weird the skills don’t transfer to cornhole. Regardless, coming here always helped me get out of my head.

I hand my tickets to her as she reaches seventeen in her count, and she blinks her gaze up at mine.

“I have twelve.” I shrug. “You win, fair and square. But if you buy one of those damn squirt guns and shoot me with it, I’m never bringing you here again.”

Her stern expression is all for show. I can tell, and it doesn’t last more than a second or two before her smile sneaks in. I lean my head back toward the prize counter, which happens to be next to the best soft serve stand on earth. “Are you a vanilla? A chocolate? Or are you a swirl? I’ll get the treats while you pick your prize.”

“Swirl,” she proclaims, standing still while I take a few steps back.

“What?” I say through a nervous chuckle when I notice she isn’t moving. She’s studying me a little too hard. I think, perhaps, my crush is showing.

“You surprise me, is all.” She lowers her gaze as her smile pushes into her cheeks, but she can’t hide the blush that dusts her face.

“I’m full of surprises, Jaden Johnson. Chock full.” I wink when she lifts her eyes to me. “Oh, and Pop Rocks! Anything leftover, get Pop Rocks. Nobody can feel bad with Pop Rocks in their mouth.”

I leave her puzzled and proceed to buy two large swirl cones while she meanders to the prize stand. I pay for our cones and head toward a wooden bench underneath a canopy. I sit on one end and slide along the length just in case there are any damp spots from the rain, soaking up the dampness with my jeans. Jaden steps up in front of me a second later, her hands behind her back and a mischievous grin playing at her lips.

“I’m defenseless with these two cones in my hands, so you better not have that squirt gun.” I’m only partly teasing. I can’t guarantee I won’t eat both of these on the run if she tries to blast me.

Jaden’s hands move from behind her, and her right one is dangling a small orange figure from a set of strings and what appears to be a plastic parachute, while the other has a pack of grape Pop Rocks.

“Every boy loves a parachute man,” she says, taking a cone from one of my hands so I can take over the figurine.

“You spent your tickets on a present for me?” I’m actually a little touched.

She shrugs, then drags her tongue up the side of her cone to catch an ice cream drip. The sight takes my breath away for a second, and I cough and look away when I realize she notices my sudden intense stare.

“I love him. Thank you. I’ll try him out from the top of the stadium next time I run the steps,” I say, twisting the orange toy in my hand and winding it in the strings and parachute before tucking it into my hoodie pocket. She tucks the Pop Rocks into her pocket, which pushes my smile a little higher on one side. I meant it when I said they’re the surefire cure for the sads. At least, they are for me.

“Thanks for this. For tonight.” Her voice is soft, touched a tiny bit by nerves.

I glance her way and find her clutching her cone in both hands just below her chin. She keeps her gaze on me, looking up through her lashes as she takes a small bite from the top of her swirl. I nod and take a bite of my own, welcoming the chill. I’m definitely feeling some heat.

“I think we aren’t as different as you think. We both hate disappointing people, especially ourselves. And this place was a good mental reset for me when I needed it,” I say.

Several minutes pass while we silently lick our way through our sweet treats, and what starts as a heavy quiet between us begins to feel natural to me the longer we sit together and watch the crowd build around us.

“What do you think their story is?” Jaden finally says. I follow her gaze to a mismatched couple holding hands, a six-foot-plus man nearly twice the height of his companion. It’s a humorous sight for sure, but there’s also something sweet about it.

“Sometimes your person isn’t who you expect,” I answer.

I take a crunching bite out of my cone and glance to my right when I feel Jaden’s stare. I wrangle the disintegrating bite into my mouth, catching a few of the crumbs in my palm as her gaze lingers, and I realize she might think I’m talking about us.

Maybe I am.

“I’m going to get my spot back.” She blinks a single time, almost like the flit of her lashes is punctuation to her words.

I nod.