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“What would be the fun in telling you that now?” She grins, her full attention returning to me as she tosses her backpack in the car.
My cheeks already hurt from how much I’ve been smiling, and I have the fleeting thought that it wouldn’t be the worst thing to spend the rest of my day this way.
24
faye
I’d savedthe best for last. Call it an ace in the hole, but I had a feeling that once Zeke saw where we were ending up, the rest of the day would be forgotten.
As soon as our friends popped out and yelled “Surprise!”—all in coordinating Top Gun-themed team T-shirts—I knew I was right. But it wasn’t just the element of competition that sparked in his eye. It was what he saw beyond that made him look like a kid on Christmas.
“Cornhole?” He says it like he can’t believe it’s that simple.
“Competitivecornhole,” I amend.
He looks around and takes in all the other teams lined up opposite each other in the parking lot behind the Lucky Labrador pub on Hawthorne.
“It’s a round-robin tournament.”
He puts his hands behind his head and a goofy grin crosses his face as he takes it all in. When he sees them—the ringers—he presses his fist to his teeth.
“Is that Greg Goffin? And Johnny McGeary? Oh my—” He bites down on his fist as I stare at the two bulky men in tech shirts plastered with sponsors.
“You can nerd out later, my man,” Pasha says, holding up a selection of team shirts. “You get to be Team Maverick.” He looks a little sad as he hands Zeke his T-shirt.
“Are you on my team? I’m not sure if I like those chances,” Zeke teases, looking down his nose at me.
Freddy claps an arm around my shoulders. “Ah, don’t worry, brah. Team Goose over here is going to wipe the floor with you.”
Zeke’s grin freezes, just for a moment, as he stares at me and Freddy.
“Here comes the rest of your team,” I say, looking past him at where Zach comes jogging over, already wearing his Team Maverick shirt.
“Sorry I’m late,” Zach says. He claps his brother on the back, and I swear I see sprinkles and chocolate syrup stuck to the back of his ear. Not that I say anything.
I pull off my sweatshirt and reveal the Team Goose T-shirt I’ve been wearing all morning. Zeke shakes his head, an amused smile filling his face, as everyone moves to where the waiter for the event is taking drink orders.
“I can’t believe you did this. You pulled a fast one.”
“I can be crafty, you know,” I say, shrugging a shoulder.
“Faye? IPA?” Caro calls as she ties a cute knot in her Team Beach Volleyball shirt.
“Yes, please!”
“Attention, please!” a voice calls over a megaphone from the far end of the setup. “Welcome to the Lucky Lab Competitive Cornhole Pro-Am!”
Everyone cheers and Zeke’s eyes get even bigger.
“You entered me in a pro-am?”
“Sure did,” I say with a grin.
He looks positively giddy as the announcer continues reading through the rules. When she’s done explaining the format, she introduces Greg Goffin and Johnny McGeary, the two leading scorers in the previous world championship of competitive cornhole. I had no idea that Zeke would know who they are, but it only makes the experience even sweeter to watch him lose his damn mind when they throw the first bean bags.
Since it’s a round-robin format, we all get to play everyone once. Freddy and I are, in a word, terrible. But what we lack in skill, we make up for with trash talk whenever it’s Zeke’s turn. Our side shifts while the opposite side, where Caro and Aly get drunk and Pasha and Lule appear to be trying to one-Top-Gun each other, stays put.
Freddy and I lose in spectacular fashion. We go an entire game without sinking a single bean bag. I know Freddy’s center of gravity is off, but I wonder whether he’s throwing the match so we can have more time to razz Zeke. But Zeke and Zach actually have decent aim and win enough matches in the first round to advance.
