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She laughed and sat herself on a stool, setting her drink down on a ledge. “Is that so? And who are you skewering tonight?”
Me.
“Do you want a game?” I asked. “Are you a secret dart pro, too?”
“Oh no,” she said and raised her glass. “This is my third. Or fourth? I can’t be trusted with sharp, pointy objects.”
“You seem to do alright wielding a long stick.” I glanced at her sideways then shot another dart. Eighteen. “So…taking a break from pool?”
And from my best friend?
Her hair glinted red and gold under the lamp as she nodded. “I had to quit while I was ahead. Before I started shooting badly and ruined my mystique.”
“Your Nebraska pool shark mystique.”
“It’s a little more exciting than my Nebraska farm girl mystique.”
“You grew up on a farm?”
“Born and raised. My father grows corn and wheat.”
My stupid mind conjured her standing in a field of wheat, her fingertips brushing the stalks, her coppery red hair glinting in the sun. A simple dress billowed around her knees in a breeze that made the wheat bend and sway around her like a sea of shallow waters…
“How was that?” I asked. “I mean, what was it like?”
“I loved it,” she said, her hazel eyes liquid. “I love the land. Love watching my father work to make things grow.”
She was tipsy with booze and it softened her further. Her speech slowed down and her Midwestern drawl crept back in.
“But it wasn’t enough for me. I always did really well in school and had always planned on getting out to do something important. I was voted ‘Most Likely to Save the World’.” She smiled shyly. “A slight exaggeration…”
I shrugged. “Better than Miss Congeniality.”
“What were you voted in high school?”
“Mr. Congeniality.”
She laughed. “Liar.”
“I wasn’t voted anything.”
She cocked her head. “No? Shame. I would have nominated you for Best Eyes.”
I flinched mid-throw and the dart careened off the metal edge of the board.
Autumn covered her mouth with her hand. “See, alcohol is like a truth serum for me.” She frowned suddenly, thinking. “What’s that song… ‘Ocean Eyes’?”
I picked up my fallen dart and gathered the rest from the board. “Haven’t heard it.”
She hummed a few notes. “Ocean eyes and diamond mind. It’s a great song. More than just one verse and chorus a hundred times over. Her lyrics are like poetry. You know? They have something real to say.”
“You like poetry?”
Please say no.
“I love it.” She pressed her hands into the stool she sat on, her legs swinging a little. “I love Dickinson and Keats, and e e cummings. I love how a few words, carefully chosen, can elicit deep reactions. Or evoke a certain mood, or make you feel something real, you know?”
Yes, I know. I know, exactly, Autumn.
