If I Could - B. Celeste Page 0,11
recluse, but you’ve been doing all right tonight.”
When I look at him, I see the casual stance he has against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other, arms crossed over his chest. “Did they now?” I don’t tell him that I may have exaggerated their exact words because he probably already knows that. “They’re your coworkers now too.”
I throw the second dart, missing the center target by two rings. “True. Jim and Sullivan seem like a great pair. I bet they’ve had their fair share of rivalries over the years.”
“You wouldn’t believe it,” he muses, eyes dancing with distant memories. “I think Jim just about lost it when he found out Sullivan’s classes had a higher average than his last year. They made a bet to see who the better teacher was.”
Interest piques. “What was the bet?”
He’s looking at the three darts in the board, studying their placement. “The loser had to perform the winner’s choice of song on karaoke night here. Sullivan made Jim sing a Britney Spears number.”
I blink at him. “You’re shitting me, right?”
Slowly, he shakes his head.
Laughing, I study the board again before launching the next dart. Another bullseye. “I think I’m going to love it here.”
He nods toward the dart board. “I heard that you used to play sports.”
It’s not a question, but I answer him anyway. “Yep. Baseball. Was supposed to go big but things didn’t work out.”
There’s a moment of silence. Then, “I hope this doesn’t seem too nosey, but you don’t act broken up about it. I bet a lot of people would kill to make it big in any sports league.”
That’s true. Some of my old teammates stopped talking to me when they found out about the offers I was getting. It shouldn’t have been that shocking considering the amount of airtime I got. I was never one to brag, but there were always articles online tracking my stats and the probability of me being picked in the draft on local news stations. I was damn good. Other team members were happy for me, but the vast majority were envious. Mostly because they knew I didn’t want it, and I get it. I still do. I don’t hold onto their grudges against me.
It isn’t like I could help the attention. I never asked for any of it. I was good at the sport, enjoyed playing it, and the right people noticed. If anything, my former team should be happy. I opened a spot by backing down. “It was a great pastime in college, but it was never what I wanted to do as a career. It made my parents happy, my dad especially, but it didn’t make me.”
Again, he’s quiet.
Clearing my throat, I throw the last dart and it misses completely, bouncing off the wall and onto the floor. Grinning, I look at him. “Was your plan to distract me so I bombed the last shot?”
He collects the darts and takes my place, a light twinkling in his blue-green eyes, a unique mixture I noticed in the hallway at school almost instantly because of how bright they are. “Nah, but it was a nice bonus.” With that, he tosses the first dart and gets a bullseye. The second. Another bullseye. Catching my eye, I swear he winks before focusing back on the board. Same result. Ironically, it’s him who says, “You’re pretty good at this game. Play it a lot?”
Rolling my eyes, I lean against the same wall he was. “You just got four bullseyes in a row, so I’d say my ‘pretty good’ is actually ‘not awful’ in comparison to you. And yeah. My buddies and I tended to hang out at the bars quite a bit. They preferred pool, but I sucked at it. Liked darts better.” He throws the last dart. Maybe if the others weren’t in the center, it would have hit, but instead it bounced off. “I take it you spent your college days practicing?”
His smile cracks, no longer reaching his eyes. Whatever I said, it hit a nerve. Making a mental note, I wait for him to say something to break the suddenly thick atmosphere. “No, I didn’t really get out much until I moved here. Had more important things to do than party.”
I’m tempted to tell him I did too out of defensiveness, but the need is misplaced. I don’t know Reece well, but he’s not the type to say something out of judgement or maliciousness. Whatever responsibility he had is what’s making