Читать книгу Ava's Prize - Cari Lynn Webb - Страница 12
ОглавлениеKYLE CHECKED HIS recent call log and his emails for the tenth time in the past twenty minutes. Not that he could’ve missed a call. He’d woken up before sunrise, clutching his cell phone, and he hadn’t put it down even to eat lunch earlier. Yesterday, he’d called and messaged a dozen former developers and business associates about judging his contest. No one had replied. No one.
He couldn’t judge the contest he’d created. The contest he planned to use to keep from defaulting on his own contract.
Canceling wasn’t an option. The press releases had gone out. Hits on the webpage had multiplied into the thousands overnight. More headlines and sound bites had hit the TV and radio news spots all morning. Kyle couldn’t turn back. He needed to keep his reputation intact and run a viable contest, not some hoax that the public would conclude was no more than a publicity stunt. The press liked to speculate about his next PR blitz as if his Medi-Spy creation had only been for attention. Yesterday’s newspaper had claimed a reality TV show was his latest pursuit.
He paced through his second-floor suite, ignoring the theater room and the arcade room, instead seeking refuge in the design lab. He shouldn’t have invited Ben and his family over. He shouldn’t have translated Ben’s car game into a contest. He should’ve left the photo shoot last weekend and returned to his lab. But it was too late for what he should’ve done.
Right now, he shouldn’t be dropping into the industrial office chair and pressing the button to print more contest flyers as if he’d suddenly decided to hone his marketing skills. He should be scanning his brain for an idea. He only needed one.
What was wrong with him?
The groan of the printer spitting out copies matched the groan of panic rolling through him. He shoved his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, closed his eyes and drew in a breath that lifted his entire rib cage and made his stomach bloat. His older sister had taught him how to breathe, claiming he needed to learn to breathe with more mindfulness. More intention.
He counted to five. Nothing quieted those jitters skipping around inside him.
Another five-count and still nothing within him unwound. Only his to-do list flashed across his eyelids. At the top: create an invention.
His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Kyle exhaled and lost any intention of quieting his mind.
He clicked the answer button on his notepad propped beside the computer. His little sister’s face with her clear lab goggles propped on her head like a new-age headband filled the screen. Kyle dropped the stack of flyers onto the work table in the center of the design lab, set a 3-D printed piggy bank on the stack and walked with the notepad into his so-called inspiration area.
“Still moping around, all alone in your steroid-infused man cave?” Callie adjusted the oversize goggles on her head.
“It’s my home.” And his offices. He skipped his gaze over the large room filled with both vintage and contemporary arcade games. Darkness and silence leaked from the connecting theater room, yet not the good kind of dark for movie watching or that quiet anticipation before the final fight scene. He’d transformed the entire second floor of the building into the ideal work and living space. He blamed the sandwich he’d eaten for lunch on his sudden indigestion.
Kyle frowned at the computer screen. Although it was wasted on his little sister. Her focus had already returned to her microscope. He asked, “Did you want something? I have company coming over soon.”
That captured her attention. She blinked once at the screen, slow and methodical, like an owl. Only, owls held their silence; his sister had no such filter. “You don’t have people over to your place. Except for the rooftop, but that doesn’t count since you don’t live up there. People are never invited inside your home.”
No thanks to Callie. In her clear-cut manner, Callie had asked how he’d know if people came to visit him or his ultimate man cave? Friends might like his man cave more than him. He’d chosen to do what he’d always done: keep to himself. Except today, he’d stepped out of his comfort zone. Hopefully, he hadn’t lost his mind at the photo shoot. “I’m turning over a new leaf.”
“You can’t get distracted now.” Callie’s eyebrows pinched together, and she shuffled papers around on her desk. “You only have forty-one days before you need to hand in your second idea.”
His sister had a memory like a vault. One time, in a passing phone conversation, he’d mentioned the terms of his contract. She hadn’t forgotten one detail. “It’s under control.”
Callie leaned closer to the computer screen as if to study him like a petri dish under one of her microscopes. “You aren’t still pining for the past, are you? The days when you were unknown, unremarkable and an amateur.”
That was the life she’d told him no longer existed. The one she’d told him he’d never get back. He dropped into one of the oversize leather chairs and set the notepad on the flat, wide arm of the chair. “I can have friends.”
Confusion thinned her gaze and her mouth. Of course, Callie had skipped her senior year in high school to enroll in college and then fast-tracked her way into graduate school to become a medical scientist. She would earn both her MD and PhD titles behind her name in the next year, as long as Kyle kept his contract with Tech Realized, Inc. and paid her tuition.
“How many times do I need to remind you that if you hadn’t sold out, you’d still be wasting away in Mom and Dad’s basement, a wannabe inventor, living off Dad’s meager retirement?” She grimaced as if her test results proved inconclusive.
Now he lived in a man cave on steroids and was poised to lose everything. Was that somehow better? “This isn’t about high school reunions and old times.”
“That’s a relief.” Callie sighed. “You and I aren’t team players. We can’t conquer the world with apologies and regrets.”
Kyle wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted to conquer the world. He’d wanted to design something that could keep people from suffering. People like his grandfather. Callie, he knew, had other plans for her life. Plans that depended on his continued funding. And those depended on his next big idea. “I’ll make the tuition payment soon.”
She looked at him as if she’d never doubted that would happen. As it always happened on the third Thursday of every month. “I wanted to tell you that I’ve been invited to continue my medical research at Oxford once I receive my doctorate degrees.”
“But that’s in England.” And nowhere near San Francisco or her family.
“It’s one of the premiere research facilities in the world.” Excitement widened her brown eyes.
How could she be thrilled about living in another country, so far away from her family? How could he not be happy for her opportunity to continue her life’s work? “Have you told Mom and Dad?”
“They’re ecstatic. At least from what I could tell.” Callie tapped a pencil against her bottom lip as if she struggled to work out the exact sequence of a DNA genome strand. “They were walking on the beach. Mom found a giant sea shell with only a small chip. Maybe they were cheering about that.” She paused, grabbed a notepad and scribbled across the paper.
Kyle waited. His sister spoke in logical order. But her thoughts always came out in scattered spurts like air in a waterline. He’d always assumed her genius brain never quieted. If she didn’t pause to record her thoughts every so often, she might miss the next big medical breakthrough.
Finally, Callie blinked into the screen. “No, I’m sure Mom wished me safe travels and Dad wanted hotel recommendations in the area. Or maybe that was the couple with them. I think they’re planning a trip up the Gulf Coast. Doesn’t matter. Oxford wants me.”
Kyle wanted to wish his sister well. Share her excitement. But only sadness circled through him.
Four years ago, their grandfather had died unexpectedly, and their family had splintered without the glue that had been Papa Quinn. Kyle had inherited his grandpa’s vintage 1965 Mustang. Along with the last of his grandfather’s wisdom on a handwritten note left inside the Mustang’s glove box: “When you take a wrong turn, Kyle, a guiding hand and full heart will lead you home where you belong.”
Kyle’s family had taken several wrong turns after Papa Quinn’s passing, and the distance between his family had only widened further. Then Kyle had signed his contract with Tech Realized, Inc. Honoring his grandfather’s memory had filled his bank account. The money he’d always intended to help guide his family back together.
Now he funded dual degrees that would only take his sister farther from home. Worry mixed with the sadness. She was a scientist, not an experienced world traveler. How was he supposed to protect her from a continent away? He should protect her. She’d always been there for him in grade school. More than once, she’d stepped in to deflect the bullies’ attention off him and on to her with her oversize books and even thicker bottle-size glasses.
The buzzer from the street entrance hummed through the suite. Kyle tucked his concern away, certain he’d come up with something to entice his little sister home. Something like her own research lab, custom built to her specifications. “That’s my company.”
Callie had already returned to her notepad and had pulled her microscope into view. “Don’t be like Iris and get distracted, Kyle. Send them away and get back to what really matters. You can’t lose focus of what’s really important.”
With that, Callie clicked off. No “I love you.” No “talk to you soon.” No “I hope you visit me in England.” Only an order to work and a caution not to be like their oldest sister, Iris. Kyle’s problem was he struggled to focus on what was important: a new idea.
He checked his emails on the way to the entrance. Still no response from his potential judges. Not even a terse thank-you, or any thank-you at all. He’d take his sister’s advice. Offer a quick tour and then send the trio waiting outside on their way. They’d understand he had to work. If they didn’t, what would it matter? They weren’t friends, and this was a onetime offer.
He pressed the button to unlock the main entrance door that led into the lobby and spoke through the intercom, telling them to come up to the second floor.
Kyle opened the door to the suite and welcomed his guests inside. He would’ve explained his plans to work that afternoon if Ben hadn’t disrupted the silence with a drawn-out whoa.
Kyle shut the door and turned around to find the young boy bouncing from one foot to the other, his gaze darting around the suite. Ben never moved from his father’s side, as if he waited for a referee to blow a start whistle to let the games begin.
“You work here?” Ava stood with her arms crossed and one eyebrow arched. Clearly, she wasn’t as impressed by his personal arcade space (aka inspiration area) as Ben.
“I live here, too.” Kyle grinned at the disbelief Ava failed to hide. His grin widened at her resistance to smile. Suddenly, all he wanted was to make Ava smile. Suddenly, that became important. That became his focus, even as he told himself to concentrate on something else.
“Cool.” Ben failed to hide his awe.
Dan rubbed his chin and nodded. “Can’t see anything I’d add.”
“How about books or candles? Maybe some colorful throw pillows or picture frames to break up all the gray and black,” Ava suggested.
Ava, with her red hair sweeping past her shoulders and green eyes, brought color into the monochrome room. The room was quiet and subdued without the arcade turned on, the screens lit up and the sounds of the game over music playing. All the room wanted was someone to press Play. Kyle didn’t know what he wanted. But he liked welcoming Ava into his home. “It wasn’t designed to be a meditation room.”
“Clearly,” Ava said. Her gaze jumped around the room, taking everything in. Even better, she never retreated toward the door.
“This should appeal to you, Ava.” Dan shoved her shoulder. “You love that pub with the ’80s arcade games and pool tables south of the city.”
Busted. Ava avoided Kyle’s gaze. He longed to laugh. She didn’t want to like his place. Too bad he didn’t want to like having her there. He’d planned to send them away quickly and without much fanfare. Now he hesitated, and that irritated him.
He’d always have to question whether a woman genuinely liked him—the guy with the deadly nut allergy, who preferred arcade games and comic books and his family. The one who tended to believe if the money went away, so might the woman.
The news reports about him wanting to find love on a reality TV show were completely false. Yet there was something about Ava that tugged at places deep inside him. Places he’d learned to ignore years ago. Places he buried under his flush bank accounts, confident money would fill any void.
He admitted Ava was attractive like he acknowledged a flaw in one of his 3-D designs. He’d fix an error in his design with several keystrokes on the computer. The only way to fix Ava was to ignore his interest in her. Ignore that tightness inside his chest. File her into the same category as every other attractive woman he’d met: unavailable, off-limits and a disruption to his life.
“Aunty, you always want to play Skee-Ball.” Ben pointed across the room. “Here we don’t have to wait in line.”
“Or wipe down the machines before we use them.” Dan looked at Kyle. “I’m not kidding. She carries those antibacterial wipes with her everywhere we go.”
Ava threw up her hands. “Just trying to keep everyone from getting sick.”
Dan wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her. “We appreciate it, even if you act more like an overly cautious grandmother sometimes.”
Ben giggled and followed Kyle farther into the room, cutting between the pool and foosball tables.
“You have basketball shoot and off-road driving games.” Ben touched the Ping-Pong table and stared at the far wall. “And four pinball machines.”
Kyle had always wanted a pinball machine in the basement of his parents’ house. In the gaps between his invention design sessions, he’d make lists of every game that would’ve improved the basement dwelling. Every game that might’ve enticed the kids from school to come over and play with him. Each one of those games waited inside Kyle’s inspiration suite now. Kyle had stopped waiting for friends to come over in middle school. Now he’d assumed the more fun and games that had surrounded him, the more ideas he’d have.
For now, inspiration hadn’t arrived, no matter how many arcade games he jammed into the room. Not even Skee-Ball, his favorite childhood game, inspired him. “There’s a ninety-two-inch flat-screen TV with surround sound and gaming consoles right through that door.”
“Like a real theater room.” Ben dragged his hand across the air-hockey table and edged closer to the twin Skee-Ball games.
Surprised Ben wasn’t racing into the theater room for the video games, Kyle looked at the subdued Skee-Ball lanes. “I never replenished the prize tickets in Skee-Ball, but they work.”
The blank chalkboard wall—the one he’d always meant to be like a graffiti wall to write inspirational sayings or draw pictures on—caught his gaze. The box of colored chalk had yet to be opened, and he’d bought it a year ago to celebrate the completion of the remodeling. His sister’s earlier claim about him being alone drifted through him. He chose independence and self-reliance. The blank wall mocked him. “The highest score gets full bragging rights and their name listed on the wall of champions.”
Ben hopped as if anticipation bounced through every limb, forcing him to move. He tugged on his dad’s arm. A plea widened his eyes.
“Ask Kyle if you can play.” Dan dipped his chin toward Kyle. “This is his office.”
Kyle grinned at Dan’s hesitation over the word office before meeting Ava’s gaze. “I refer to it as the inspiration room inside the think tank. There’s also a design lab with 3-D printers and more professional equipment. Everything required to make this place look like a real business.”
One corner of Ava’s mouth twitched as if daring Kyle to try harder. He’d never turned down a dare in his life.
Dan stepped back and raised his hands. “Definitely not judging.”
“He’s just jealous.” Ava wrapped her arm around Dan’s waist, easy and comfortable.
Dan hugged Ava. “I won’t deny I’m jealous.”
Jealous. Kyle watched Ava and Dan’s casual interactions. In that moment, he understood jealousy on a very different level. But relationships complicated life. Relationships required effort and focus and time—everything he needed to put into developing an idea. And everything he required for his contest to be a success. He acknowledged that twinge of envy that tinted his eyesight green and filed Ava in the if-only-he-was-a-good-team-player-and-this-was-another-time category.
Both Dan and Ben shared twin looks of excitement.
Ben rubbed his hands together. “So, can we really play?”
“We don’t want to take up too much of Kyle’s time.” Ava touched Ben’s shoulder. “I’m sure Kyle has plans for the afternoon.”
This was where Kyle agreed with Ava. He should explain that he had to work. This was his cue to hurry through the rest of the tour and make the offer for them to come back another time. Or never. This was where he regained his focus and concentrated on his priorities.
That chalkboard wall trapped Kyle’s gaze as if reflecting some void deep inside of himself. But Kyle liked his life. “It’s Saturday, you can play as much and as long as you want.”
“Seriously?” Ben asked.
Ava kept her hand on the boy’s shoulder, as if holding him in place, and eyed Kyle. “One hour.”
He should accept her terms. One hour was already overstaying their welcome. He held her green gaze, locked on as if they’d entered some staring contest where the winner received more than simple bragging rights. “As it happens, my afternoon is wide-open.”
Ava never flinched. “One hour should be more than enough time.”
Challenge accepted. He’d make sure one hour wasn’t long enough. Kyle pointed to the wall again and grinned at Ben. “I feel I should warn you that I don’t lose easily, and I intend to have my name up there.”
Ben shrugged one shoulder as if unconcerned with Kyle’s skills. “I like to win, too.”
“I can’t decide where we should start.” Dan’s laughter mixed with Ben’s as the pair ventured around the room.
The cheerful sound seeped inside Kyle as if trying to fill that void. He’d once shared that same joy with his sisters, playing Ping-Pong in their parents’ basement that they’d converted into a teenager’s hideaway. Kyle looked at Ava. “We can continue the tour or play a round of pool.”
She opted for the tour, but her gaze landed on the Skee-Ball lanes and stuck as they passed.
Kyle guided Ava into the development lab. The state-of-the-art room had multiple desktops, a dry-erase-board wall and tinted glass windows that overlooked the city. More hand-held games and toys littered the entire space. Multicolored puzzle balls and cubes sat among the various plastic building blocks scattered across the empty worktable. Three-dimensional printed items, ranging from a bottle opener to the first pieces of a chess game, stood sentry around the room. Each piece a reminder of his continued unoriginality. Middle school kids printed more complicated designs on their 3-D printers.
“You’re running a contest?” Ava pointed at the contest time line Kyle had written in colored markers on the dry-erase board.
“I put it together this week with my legal team, and we issued a press statement yesterday morning.” Kyle eyed the list on the dry-erase board. Acting as tour guide to Ava accomplished nothing productive and only reminded him of that awkward boy he’d long since outgrown. “I need to thank Ben for the idea.”
“Ben?” Ava stood beside the sleek metal table and picked up the piggy bank he’d used as a paperweight for the stack of contest flyers.
“I got the idea when Ben talked about that invention game you guys play.” Guilt pricked into his skin like a rough tag in his shirt collar. He’d done nothing wrong. He had nothing to confess.
He’d launched a contest. Planned to give the winner money. He’d even written in the rules that the winner’s idea became the property of his company once they accepted the cash payout. He’d spent hours with his legal team. Even required the entrants to click an “I accept the terms and conditions agreement” box to enter the contest. That wasn’t guilt scratching at him; it was panic. He had to find judges and mentors immediately.
Ava picked up a contest flyer and searched the paper as if searching for understanding. “What’s behind the contest?”
His chance at success. Albeit from the mind of someone else. Still, the winner would get money and Kyle would fulfill his contract. Everyone won. That scratch dug deeper into his neck like a razor pressed at the wrong angle. “It’s a way to give back. People have great ideas, but no platform to build them.”
“You’ll supply the platform.” Ava smiled, sincere and wide. Surprise drifted through her voice as if she’d doubted his altruistic streak. “That’s really impressive.”
Somehow her smile only sharpened that razor against his skin. He stepped forward and grabbed the flyer.
Ava held on to the paper. “Afraid I might enter?”
Kyle didn’t want to encourage her. After all, playing a game about invention ideas in the car was much different than coming up with a viable idea that could potentially change lives. Ava was certainly a pleasure to be around, but she wasn’t an inventor. Nor was she his conscience. “The contest is open to anyone with an idea.”
Ava released the paper. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Kyle placed the flyer and his guilt back under the piggy bank paperweight.
“Your contest can possibly change someone’s life,” she said.
Or return his life to how it should be: with his family home, where he needed them. “I’m not sure it’s life-changing money.”
“Trust me. It is.” Ava’s earnest tone drew Kyle’s focus. “You’re going to change someone’s world.”
He only wanted to bring back his old world, where he’d always belonged—the one he’d relied on before Papa Quinn’s death. Before his family had splintered and had fled in different directions. Without a new idea, the contest was his only chance. “The contest has to be a success first.”
“It has your name and you’re already a success,” Ava said. “How could it fail?”
Kyle concentrated on her wide smile, refusing to list all the ways his plan might fail. Or the ways he might fail. If only her smile was enough to lessen the unease building inside him. He grabbed a puzzle cube from the table to keep his hands busy. But no matter how many turns he made on the cube, he couldn’t quite organize his guilt back under that pile of flyers. Or rearrange his unease.
He rushed out of the design room. In his haste to retreat, he led Ava into his living quarters. His personal space. Not the place he should’ve taken her. The apartment area was too small. Too compact. She was too close.
He couldn’t avoid her gaze that was too penetrating, as if she could read his secrets. She was supposed to have stopped at the game room. Been enthralled by the glitz and the glamor of the theater room. Been in awe of the state-of-the-art development lab.
She wasn’t supposed to look any deeper at Kyle.
He wasn’t supposed to let her.
He feared if she looked too close, she might glimpse the fraud inside him. For some unknown reason, he didn’t want her to see him that way.
“There’s no separation between work and home.” Ava opened his college-dorm-style refrigerator that had leftover pizza and an assortment of Greek-style yogurt inside. She grinned at him over the door, a tease in her voice. “Don’t cook much?”
“One of the perks of selling the earbud. I got to add a personal chef to the payroll.” He kept his tone easygoing but touched his medical-alert bracelet.
Her gaze tracked to his wrist. “What’s the bracelet for?”
He stiffened, but kept his voice mild and indifferent. As if his condition was no more life-threatening than a hangnail. In the summer before the sixth grade, he’d wanted nothing more than to fit in with the other boys. He’d boasted about his allergy and embellished his stories about ambulance rides to sound cooler than they ever were. Troy Simmons—one of the boys Kyle had wanted desperately to call a friend—decided to test Kyle’s claims and hide a nut in Kyle’s lunch. That single nut had sent Kyle on another ambulance ride. His three-day hospital stay had taught him a life lesson in trust. His family became the only ones he’d ever fully trust. He’d returned to school, confident that it was easier to be alone with his secrets than to be betrayed by so-called friends. “Nut allergy.”
“How severe is it?” she asked.
“Enough that I need to wear this.” And the personal chef had been hired to ensure his employees didn’t bring food into the building that would cause a reaction that sent him to the hospital. He wasn’t about to confess that weakness to Ava. She was a stranger. A temporary guest in his building.
In middle school, he’d stopped discussing his food allergies with people outside of his family. Now, even though his personal staff had moved on to other jobs, his chef still delivered meals twice a week. He’d grown tired of the five things he knew how to cook that wouldn’t make him reach for his EpiPen and dial 9-1-1.
“You don’t talk about it much.” She shut the refrigerator door and watched him. “At least from what I read.”
“You looked me up?” He wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or worried.
“I wasn’t bringing Ben into a stranger’s house.” Her voice was confident and sure. Her stance, with her hands on her hips, was unapologetic.
“I’d be even more cautious after reading anything about me on the internet.” The news reporters and gossip columnists were just another reason he kept to himself.
“You don’t like to talk about yourself, do you?”
“I like to keep my private life private.”
“But you’re a local celebrity and the public wants to know.” Ava leaned against the counter as if in no rush to continue the tour. “I imagine everyone wants to spill your secrets.”
Good thing he didn’t have too many. And none that he’d risk sharing with another person. He eyed Ava. No makeup concealed the freckles across her nose. No designer labels peeked out on her yoga pants and oversize sweatshirt. As if she really wore those clothes to work out in. She’d dressed for herself and her own comfort, not to impress. Such a refreshing change, yet everyone had an agenda.
What was Ava’s? Was she looking for a fast track to her fifteen minutes of fame? Looking for an easy payout with a story to sell? He hoped she was. That was more than enough for him to escort her out of his suite and sever his interest in her. “It’s a good thing that I don’t have any secrets, then.”
“Well, you’ve got one,” she challenged.
Alarms blared through him. He knew she’d been too perfect. “What’s that?”
“I never read a quote or story about you from your private chef.”
“She’s discreet.” He paid Haley Waters, his chef, very well for that discretion.
She nodded, as if content with his answer. Content not to press for more. “We remodeled our kitchen, but it might’ve been wiser to invest in a personal chef.”
Like his chef, Haley? Did Ava have secrets? Kyle should walk her back to her friends. Not linger in his kitchen as if he wanted to get to know her better. As if he wanted to know her. Yet he should discover what she wanted from him. “You don’t like to cook, either?”
“It’s not the cooking. It’s the shopping.” Ava grimaced. “Although now I get our groceries delivered.”
Our. Kyle scanned her fingers for a ring. Even without a ring, she could be involved with someone. That thought knocked around inside his gut like the break of the balls on the pool table. Definitely not his business. Those were only hunger pangs making his stomach clench. Nothing food wouldn’t quiet. Before he could shove a spoonful of yogurt into his mouth, he asked, “You cook for more than yourself?”
He had to stop talking or she’d question his angle. As if he had one.
“My mom and I live together.” She walked out of the kitchen, toward the game room, as if she’d revealed more than enough.
She wanted to keep her private life private, too. That put them on common ground. And intensified his desire to learn what else they might have in common. Why couldn’t she have been like the women he’d met who were only interested in what his money could do for them? Why did she have to be interesting? And standoffish, as if she didn’t trust him with her secrets.
She pulled out her phone and tapped the screen. “We should get going.”
He’d asked one personal question and she wanted to leave. “Play one game of Skee-Ball. It’ll be hard to talk while you’re trying to beat me.”
Her gaze shifted toward the lanes. Temptation was there in her half grin.
“Come on, Ava,” Dan urged. “I talked to my dad. Your mom is good, and they already planned dinner without us.”
“One game.” Ava stepped up to the first lane.
Kyle pressed Play on the second lane. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
He already knew what he got: a game room that wasn’t empty or silent. He’d enjoy the moment. Then get back to work. What harm was there in one round?
One game turned into two. Then three. The moment extended into the evening. Then through dinner. The foursome moved together from one section to another. Challenges issued. Teams made and disbanded. Everyone proved to be poor losers and even worse winners. Between the boasting and bragging, more challenges were tossed out. Laughter threaded through every minute: good-natured and contagious.
Finally, Dan called a halt. Ben had exceeded his yawn limit and bedtime beckoned.
One last debate followed.
Ava grabbed the chalk and walked to the wall. “I claim the top spot.”
“For Skee-Ball only,” Dan argued. Both Ben and Kyle nodded, drawing out her frown.
“Fine.” She filled up the wall with a swirl of blue chalk. “Here are the final standings.”
Kyle earned: Expert Ping-Pong Player.
Ben: Highest Score 11 and under.
Dan: Best Off-Road Driver.
Ava: High Score Skee-Ball.
Kyle walked the trio out and returned to the suite. Time to work. His reprieve had ended much like all good times had to. His gaze stuck on the chalkboard wall. Ava had added a smiley face after her name: bold and challenging, like her.
He skipped turning off the lights and instead pressed the start button on the Skee-Ball lane.
One more game wasn’t a big deal. It meant nothing. It wasn’t as if he wanted to extend the moment. As if he couldn’t accept the evening had ended.
As if he wasn’t ready for the silence of being alone. He preferred the quiet.
He just wanted to play one more game. Nothing wrong with that.
