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He lifts his hand to bounce once more.
“What are you doing?”
He turns to me, mid-boss. This time there isn’t an accompanying plink.
“Oh man.” Zack heaves a heavy sigh. “You made me miss. I was undefeated.”
“Against who?”
“Myself.” Chuckling, I can just make out the shake of his head in the dark. “I hadn’t missed all night.”
“What are you playing?”
“Quarters.” He rises to his feet and meets me at our makeshift border. The pale light from the moon shining in through the windows crosses his face. Instead of anger or annoyance at his interruption, there’s the hint of a smile playing on his lips. My heart flutters again against my will. “I found a couple of coffee mugs and some loose change while I was in the librarians’ lounge.”
“So you took them?”
“Borrowed them. I’ll put everything back where I found them before we leave.” He makes an X over his chest. “Cross my heart.”
I narrowly resist the urge to smile back at him. Instead, I fold my arms across my chest as if that will somehow protect me from melting a little more in his presence. With every hour we’re stuck here in this library, it’s getting harder and harder to keep my hatred for Zack alive.
But… I’m not ready to let go of it. Not yet.
“Well...” I shift from one foot to the other. “As long as you put everything back. I suppose it’s okay.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
I roll my eyes, and he chuckles at my response. I can’t resist giving the slightest hint of a smile in return. I’m not made completely out of stone.
Zack clears his throat and holds out his hand. “Want to play?”
I shake my head. “No, I… no thank you.”
“Why? Afraid you’ll lose?”
I narrow my eyes. “You think I’m scared of losing to you?”
“It’s the only reason I can think of you backing down from a challenge.”
I suck in a breath, all of my earlier feelings of harmony—or, at least, lust—cleared from the table. “I have never backed down from a challenge. Especially not where you’re concerned.”
“Then why won’t you play?”
I’m about to tell him that I don’t want to play with him because I don’t want to spend another second in his presence. But that’s not true. Not any part of it. As irritated as I am with him at the moment, as much as I’d like to flick him in the nose, I still feel drawn to him.
Like a fruit fly to vinegar.
There’s also the other reason I don’t want to play. And one that is much safer to admit. “I’ve never played before.”
“Oh.” He blinks in surprise. “Well that’s okay. I’ll show you.”
Before I can protest, he takes me by the hand. My heart pounds erratically in my ears as he leads me back to the table on his side of the border. He pulls out a chair and, releasing my hand, motions for me to sit.
Eyeing him suspiciously, I check the seat—half expecting to find a whoopee cushion or at least a snack cake that will stain my jeans.
“I promise, no dirty tricks,” he says.
Taking him at his word, I sink into the chair. He pushes me into the table before taking the seat next to mine.
