Scoring a Holiday Match by Delancey Stewart

Author:Delancey Stewart [Stewart, Delancey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Delancey Stewart

Chapter 6

Rose is not King Kong

ASH

It wasn’t like I’d expected that Rose would come home with me tonight and then we’d spend the rest of our lives happy ever after.

Except maybe I did expect something.

Something more than a quick glance at the curb as she went home with another man.

Okay, yeah. That’s not quite fair. But she didn’t go home with me, and that burned. Deep inside me, there’d been a little kindling flame of hope, and the warmth of that tiny fire was so unfamiliar and unexpected, I’d lost myself to it for the evening. I’d forgotten who I was, and why meeting someone here in San Diego would be the worst possible scenario.

Except . . .˘would it really?

I watched Rose’s car leave, and turned, going directly to the bar inside.

Max was waiting for me.

“I watched you leave. Figured you had it buttoned up tonight.” His voce had always had just a touch of arrogance to it that was rubbing me the wrong way right then.

“Nah. Didn’t work out.”

“Right.” He ordered a scotch and as we took our drinks, we turned together, walking a bit away from the bar. “So when you had your tongue down her throat and she was practically scaling you like King Kong on the Empire State Building on the dance floor, things were not working out.”

“They were not.”

“Optical illusion, then.”

“Could be. And I don’t like Rose being King Kong in that scenario, by the way.”

“You’re a moron.” Max turned away from me, as if he was so disappointed in me he couldn’t even look at me.

And looking at me wasn’t required right then, because everyone at the party was watching Trace Johnson again, as the huge goalie cleared the dance floor for a second time. He was pushing everyone to the sides, loudly promising them it would be worth it.

“He needs to cut his alcohol intake,” I observed as Johnson handed his jacket to the woman in the silver dress, who looked exhausted.

“He quit drinking in the off season. This is Johnson sober.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

The man on the dance floor was explaining to the irritated crowd that he’d been watching a lot of YouTube.

“So, like, it only looks hard, right?” he said. “Watch. You just get a little bit of a running start, and then you do like a half-split kind of thing and just whirl the other leg around.”

“Have you done a backspin before, Trace?” someone in the crowd asked.

He shook his shaggy blond head. “No, you need a big open space and it’s gotta be kinda slick, and Mags won’t let me clear out the living room. But I’ve envisioned it, worked it through in my mind the same way I visualize a match. I’ve totally got it.”

“Let’s see,” someone called out.

“I need the right music,” Trace said, looking like maybe he was rethinking the backspin he’d promised. “Like some Run DMC or something. Old school.”

The DJ delivered, and seconds later the crowd was nodding and the singing about hotels, and motels and Holiday Inns as Trace backed up a bit, preparing for his ‘running start.

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