Crashing Into Blue

Chapter 17

After sitting through a dinner with enough small talk and awkwardness to make a nun curse, we make our way down the boardwalk to start playing some carnival games. Whoever said that dinner makes the perfect date clearly has never been on a group dinner date with their ex and their new significant other, plus their own faux beau. Come to think of it, has anyone ever done that? Coming from first- hand experience, I don't recommend it. Between Jasmine trying to fill every silence with words, Patrick acting standoffish, and Samson calling me every pet name in the book and then some of his own creation, I think we could have all agreed that we needed to make a quick exit from Valeria's before things started to get even weirder.

Splitting the bill and leaving a gracious tip for Indi, we slip into the summer night. Walking down the boardwalk, with the game lights flashing and laughter weaving through the booths, I start to feel my unease drift away. Just as I'm slipping into a false sense of security, wondering whether we should start with the ring toss or the fishing game, Samson comes to an abrupt halt. Our small group bunches around him as the people ebb and flow around us.

"I think this is as good a place as any to start," says Samson.

We all follow his gaze, and I feel my spirits sink.

Seriously? I think to myself.

It's none other than the infamous water gun and pinhole game. In all of Patrick's summers, he has never once won at this game, and Samson is known around here as a local water gun legend. The summer we were twelve, Samson, Indigo, and I spent nearly every night on the boardwalk, playing this exact game. Samson had a major crush on the high school freshman that worked the stand, and he was determined to win her over with his skills. He eventually got so good that he could do it with his eyes closed, and that was what managed to get Samson his first kiss behind a carnival stand. Needless to say he became a god among the pre-pubescent twelve-year old boys.

Jasmine nods emphatically, making her way towards the stand, dragging a pale Patrick with her. As Samson starts to walk over, I grab the hem of his shirt, yanking him back to me. My fingers brush against his side, touching his cool skin, and I quickly let go, ignoring whatever momentarily flashed through me.

"You couldn't have taken it slightly easy on him? Maybe ease him into his own demise?"

Samson straightens out his shirt where my fist rumpled it.

"First of all, he could have said no, but he didn't. Maybe he wants to get his demise over with swiftly. Secondly, don't baby him Lia; this is all supposed to be payback, remember? Enjoy it a little, or at least fake some enjoyment."

He takes a step towards me, and I look up at him as he leans into me.

"But maybe this bothers you a bit more than you're letting on because you still like him? I thought you were over him?" he asks me quietly.

I feel myself blush and my heartbeat pounding in my chest. I turn to face the side, so that his blue gaze doesn't feel so interrogative.

"I am; I just feel bad for Jasmine. He'll ruin the night for her if he loses. You know he can get... sulky," I say choosing my words carefully.

He takes a step back from me, releasing a shallow breath. "Well, it might be a little late for that. I think it's finally dawning on him that he may be losing more than one thing tonight."

I turn back to face the booth where Jasmine and Patrick are waiting for us. Jasmine is smiling a small wicked smile at us, throwing us a wink. She turns around, seemingly to give us some privacy, while jerking Patrick around with her. Before I'm left staring at his back, I see a flash of jealousy and disbelief in his eyes.

Samson gives my shoulder a squeeze as he makes his way towards the booth, but I clamp my hand down on his arm before he's out of my reach.

"One more thing: if you call me your little guppy again, I will take a swift kick to your little guppy."

Samson barks out a laugh.

"Save that passion for the spectators. We have a show to do."