She folds her arms over her chest, bringing my attention there. “I thought you said it was geometry.”
I can’t stop the chuckle. “Okay, maybe there’s some physics involved too.”
Her face twists into an adorable scowl. “Let me guess, you’re a math geek.”
I shrug a shoulder. “I’m not an anything geek, but math’s always come easy. It’s logical. Numbers make sense. They never change the rules halfway or turn into something different. They’re constant and dependable.”
Her gaze, which had been playful and a little hungry, turns into something more solemn, and I wish I’d kept my mouth shut. But that’s harder than it should be with those clear blue eyes staring at me, so open and trusting, making me want to open up and trust her back.
I hold up a dart. “Open your hand.”
She does.
I set the dart in the middle of her palm. “You need to find the center of gravity of the dart. Roll it to your fingertips and find the balance point.”
I watch as she moves the dart on her fingers until she finds where it balances.
“When you grip it, you want your thumb just behind the center of gravity. You can use two fingers, or all four. Four give you better control and velocity, but the release is trickier. Either way, you want to be sure your grip is firm, but not tense.”
She grips the dart lightly between her thumb and two fingers. “You seem like you’ve given this a lot of thought.”
“I’ve played a lot of darts.” The truth is, I blew off my geometry homework most nights, opting for an experiential lesson in geometry instead. In addition to geometry, I got schooled in economics and sociology as I hustled darts in the bar below Pop’s office.
I step up behind her and lift her arm into throwing position. “Remember the curve. If your hand moves in a straight line, the trajectory of the dart after it leaves your hand is going to change, and it won’t end up where you aimed.”
She turns her eyes to the flattened balloon on the wall.
“Right foot in front of the left and turn your shoulders.” I grasp her hips and rotate them slightly. “Stay in balance through the whole throw.”
She looks over her shoulder at me. “Who knew this was so complicated?”
“Feet farther apart,” I say, feeling the charge between us growing. I keep a hand on her right hip and glide my other up her waist to her shoulder. “More turn.”
She loses her balance and presses back against me. The full-body contact boils my blood. There’s a long second where neither of us moves—I don’t even feel her breathing.
I shift her over her feet again and let go. “Got it?”
She nods. I don’t miss the tremble in her hand where she holds the dart poised for launch.
I move around the table to the wall and stand well to the side of the red balloon. “Eye on the target and follow through.”
Her eyes flick to me. She cringes a little. “Are you sure you want to stand there?”
“Eye on the target, not the prize,” I say with a smirk.
She takes a deep breath. After a long pause, she pulls her eyes away from me and lets the dart fly. I’m so wrapped up in the contours of her lips that there’s a beat where I don’t even realize where the dart is. I jump out of the way, but not fast enough. I feel the jab as it lodges in the outside of my left thigh, just below the hip.
“Oh my God!” Adri’s hands are over her mouth. Her eyes look like they’re about to fall out of her head.
I reach down for the dart. It stings when I yank it out. “Nice shot.”
“Oh my God,” she says again, finally moving toward me. “Are you okay?”
“Just a scratch,” I say. “Nothing to worry about.”
She lowers her hands. “You’re bleeding.”
I glance down at the small red bloom growing on my jeans. “I’ll put a Band-Aid on it when I get home.”
She’s still staring at me in sheer panic. “Can you walk? Should I call an ambulance?”
I laugh despite myself. “It was a dart, Adri. I’m fine.”
She grabs my hand. “Come on.”
I follow as she tows me out to the parking lot. The crowd has cleared, only a few last people setting up the bottles for the ringtoss game. They’re too busy arguing about whether the bottles should be touching to notice us.