�We won�t be able to turn on the main lights,� I said quietly. �We�ll attract too much attention, and night owls will want in. But there�s still plenty of light to see once your eyes adjust.�
It was very shadowy in there, but we could still see what we needed to see: mainly each other and the pool table.
I watched Dylan walk over to the case that held the cue sticks. He took down two cue sticks, handed me one, and ambled to the pool table. �Where do we get the balls?�
�You drop a quarter into the slot.�
He looked over his shoulder at me. �We have to pay to play?�
I suddenly felt a little daring as I sauntered over to the table. �Well, if you were an ordinary camper you would. But since you�ve hooked up with the unofficial assistant manager�� I jingled my keys, crouched down, unlocked the coin slot, and flipped a switch. The balls tumbled out into a tray at one end of the table.
Pleased with the results, I straightened and gave him what I hoped was an I-am-good-at-this smile. �I�ll break.�
Because of the shadows, I couldn�t see clearly into his eyes, but I could feel him studying me. He moved to the table and started arranging the balls in the rack. �So what are we going to play for?�
His voice sounded low and secretive and left me wondering what game we were really here to play.
�The joy of winning?� I asked, my confidence suddenly sliding down to my toes.
He moved the full rack to one side, then the other, up a bit, then down, before centering it in place. �That�s no fun.�
Very carefully, he lifted the rack, leaving the balls in place. Although we were on opposite ends of the table, I felt his gaze home in on me.
�There has to be some element of risk to make the game interesting,� he said. �Otherwise, we�re just smacking balls around.�
I liked smacking balls around. I�d done it a lot last summer. Still, I couldn�t help wondering what I�d gotten myself into here. �What did you have in mind?�
�Home-baked chocolate chip cookies.�
A bubble of laughter escaped with my relief. I was expecting him to suggest a kiss, or maybe even strip pool! Something that went with the shadows and his sultry voice.
�Hey, don�t laugh. I didn�t expect to miss my mom�s cooking so much.�
�But chocolate chip cookies?�
�My weakness.�
�I thought only girls craved chocolate.�
�Whatever. But if I win, you bake me some chocolate chip cookies.�
�And if I win?�
�You bake me some oatmeal raisin cookies.�
I laughed harder. �No way are you coming out ahead either way.�
�Not totally ahead. If I win, I get something I really like. If I lose, I get something I sorta like.�
�Not happening. If you win, I�ll bake you some cookies, but if I win�I get an unbroken sand dollar�one that isn�t bought at a tourist shop. You have to find it on the beach.�
Holding his cue stick to the floor like a staff, he shifted his weight to one hip. �A sand dollar?�
�Unbroken. I�ve always wanted to find one on the beach. I figure with you going all the way down to Mexico, you might find one. You can mail it to me here.�
�All right. You got a deal. Best out of five games. Break.�
I hit the white ball so it sent the other balls scattering over the table. Two solid and one striped ball went into the pockets. �I�m solid,� I said.
I walked around the table, studying how the balls were now arranged and the various angles.
�You�re looking at the table like you know what you�re doing,� he said.
�Red ball in the side pocket,� I said.
Lined up my shot. Smack, tap, bingo! I looked back at him. �I do know what I�m doing.�
He groaned. �I really don�t want to spend my summer looking for the perfect sand dollar.�
�So what happened to your no risk, no fun policy? Yellow ball, corner pocket.� I loved the sound of balls clicking as they came into contact with each other, even more the thud of a yellow ball dropping down into the corner pocket.
�That was when I thought winning was a sure thing.�
�It is a sure thing,� I said, moving so I could get a better angle on the blue ball. �My sure thing. Blue ball, off that end, then back into this far corner.� With the tip of my cue stick, I tapped the corner I was aiming for.
�No way!�
It was a tricky shot, but I was feeling confident. As geeky as it sounds, pool is all about angles, and angles are all about math. I envisioned the ball�s journey, exactly where it needed to touch the side to get the necessary angle, and how hard to get the momentum it needed to reach the far corner pocket�
�Come on already.�
�No talking,� I said.
�You�re taking this way too seriously.�
�You bet. You have no idea how badly I want a sand dollar.�
�What�s the big deal about a sand dollar? All the tourist shops sell them.�
�Like I said. Purchased sand dollars don�t count. It�s gotta be a washed-up-onshore-discovered-sand dollar. Now be quiet.�
I heard him heave a deep sigh, but I wasn�t going to be distracted. Besides, I wasn�t just playing for the sand dollar, but the joy of beating him. I really wanted to beat him. I lined up my shot and smack! The white ball hit the blue ball. It rolled to the end with a force and angle strong enough to bounce it back toward the corner I�d indicated. It rolled, started to slow�no, no, no!
�It�s not going to make it,� Dylan said.
�Yes, it will.� I tried to send forceful vibes�
Didn�t work. The ball stopped right at the edge of the pocket. If I just breathed on it, it would drop right in. �Not fair!�
�Yes!� Dylan jabbed a fist into the air, ambled up to the table, and bent over it. �Have to admit, Jennifer, you had me shaking in my shoes.� He looked up and winked at me. �Now, babe, start lining up your ingredients, �cause tomorrow I�m eating chocolate chip cookies.�
And he proceeded to clear the balls off the table with stunning swiftness and accuracy.
CHAPTER 12
�What else do we need?� Chelsea asked.
The next day, right after work�a day marked with a lot of activity in the store and at the snack bar�we�d driven over to the mainland to do some serious grocery shopping.
I looked at our list. �Chocolate chips.�
After Dylan had won the second game, I�d started to suspect he was a pool hustler or something. The third game went to me and hope had returned that he�d have to find me a sand dollar. But he�d won the fourth game without me even having the opportunity to chalk up my cue stick. Although there had been no reason to play the fifth game, we had anyway. I�d won�but I suspected it was a pity win, him letting me regain some of my pride.
I hadn�t seen him since he�d driven me back to the beach house. Amy reported that he and Zach had stopped by the snack bar for hot dogs around noon. She�d told them to show up at seven for dinner�which didn�t give us a lot of time. Especially since I had to bake cookies.
�I am so not in the mood to fix something fancy,� Chelsea said as we headed to the baking aisle.
�Fancy is not in a guy�s vocabulary,� Amy said. �All they want is an abundance of food.�
�So what are we going to cook?� Chelsea asked.
�I lost a bet with Dylan, so I have to bake some chocolate chip cookies.�
�You bet with him?� Amy asked.
�Yeah.� I explained about our little pool tournament.
�Too bad he didn�t ask for something a little sweeter,� Chelsea said when I was finished.
�Like what?�
�Duh? A kiss?�
I didn�t want to admit that when all was said and done, I�d been disappointed that we hadn�t been playing for exactly that.
> �Whatever. The point is, I have to bake cookies.�
�And if we�re heating up the oven for cookies, then we might as well fix something else in the oven. How about meatloaf?� Amy suggested.
�Yuck!� Chelsea said.
�I can make a lot of it cheaply�and guys eat a lot. Maybe you�ve noticed that about Noah, Chels.�
�Okay,� she said with a roll of her eyes. �I�ll make a fruit bowl. I saw it in a magazine. You use a hollowed-out watermelon as the bowl.�
�Didn�t think you wanted to get fancy,� I said.
�We need something to offset the boring meatloaf.�
�We�ll have mashed potatoes, too,� Amy said. �Because we can make a lot of those pretty cheap.�
�What else?� I asked as I picked up a package of chocolate chips.
�Get the other brand,� Amy said. �We have a twenty-five-cent coupon for it.� She pulled the coupon out of our coupon file and waved it.
I dropped the other brand of chips into the cart.
�Do we have to use coupons?� Chelsea asked. �It makes me feel so cheap.�
�They triple the amount on the coupons here. We�d be stupid not to use them,� Amy said.
�Even millionaires use coupons,� I added, entering the cost of the chips minus the coupon into my calculator, so I could make sure that we didn�t spend more than we could afford. �I read about it in a book that explained why they have so much money.�
�Oh, I�m sure Bill Gates clips coupons out of the Sunday paper,� Chelsea said, clearly impatient. �Get real! It�s so much effort for so little return.�
�Guess we could ask Noah to pay for his share of the food.�
�I was wondering when you were going to start harping on that again.�
�I�m not harping; it�s just a fact. I wouldn�t have even brought it up if you hadn�t been complaining.�
�I�m not complaining. I�m just tired and want to go home. It takes soooo long to shop, using coupons and a calculator. Let�s just split up the list, get what we need, and be done with it.�
�We can�t, Chels. We only have a small amount of money, and it�s not going to go far. I don�t want to have to start taking stuff out of the bags at the cash register.�
�You know, without this bitch session, we would have been three aisles closer to being finished,� Amy said, totally out of character. Aching feet could do that to you.
�Fine,� Chelsea said. �I won�t say another word.�
Yeah, right.
When we got home, Noah actually got off the couch and helped us haul in the groceries. Once we�d put everything away, we all retreated for a quick make-over session. I changed into a pair of shorts, a V-necked T, and flip-flops. I took the rubber band out of my hair and brushed it quickly, leaving the pale blond strands to rest against my shoulders. A rapid-fire reapplication of makeup, a quick misting with Gardenia Lily scent, and I was ready to go. It was amazing how my energy level got a boost just from getting out of my uniform.
Amy had beaten me back to the kitchen. She was wearing a T-shirt that had an �I,� a red heart, and a picture of a German shepherd. Not that she�d ever had a German shepherd. She just liked dogs. She�d braided her dark brown hair, weaving a ribbon through it.
With her hands, she was mixing the ingredients for the ground meat in an industrial-size bowl. Better her than me. I got out the mixer and started on the cookies.
�Where�s Chelsea and Noah?� I asked.
�Take a wild guess.�
I didn�t know why I�d bothered to ask.
�You know, I hate to say it, but I never noticed how much Chelsea complains,� Amy said.
�We�re just living differently than she�s used to,� I said.
�You�d think she�d embrace it, though. Does she really think if she was living at home that she and Noah would be all over each other as much as they are now?�
�I�m not sure Chelsea thinks beyond the moment. You know, today my horoscope warned me that someone in my life was going to be overly sensitive and that I needed to be more considerate.�
�But Chelsea�s been sensitive since we got here.�
�Maybe the stars just noticed.�
I turned on the mixer. Its loud whining ended our conversation. By the time I had the dough ready to go on the cookie sheet, Chelsea had joined us and the volume was up on the TV. I didn�t have to look in the living room to know that Noah was stretched out on the couch.
I�d peeled way too many potatoes and taken the first batch of cookies out of the oven when I heard the arrival of motorcycles. �I�ll let them in.�
I headed down the stairs and opened the door. Dylan and Zach were already standing there, Dylan�s hand raised as though he was about to knock. I couldn�t believe how glad I was to see him. He looked really good in jeans and a loose-fit Hawaiian type of shirt�a red that complemented his dark features. Zach was wearing a T-shirt that said I SEE DUMB PEOPLE.
�Hi,� I said unnecessarily. �Come on in.�
They stepped inside, and I closed the door.
�Something smells terrific,� Dylan said.
I smiled. �I just took the first batch of cookies out of the oven. I�ll even let you have one and take a chance on ruining your appetite for dinner.�
He actually ate half a dozen cookies, but his appetite definitely didn�t get ruined.
Believe it or not, the house didn�t have a large dining table. Just the island and the small booth in the kitchen�which six of us couldn�t squeeze into. When we had family gatherings, my granddad usually grilled outside and people ate on the lawn.
So we set the food on the counters. Everyone filled their plates, and we sat around the living room, eating. I was on the floor, my back against the bookcase, wondering if I should suggest a game of Monopoly when we were finished eating. Or would that be totally geeky? Totally geeky.
But I didn�t want Dylan leaving as soon as he was finished eating. What could I suggest that wouldn�t take the last of my savings?
�We should go to a movie tonight,� Noah suddenly announced.
No way! It was after eight, long past the time when we could get in at a discounted price. I looked at Amy, not even bothering with Chelsea, because I knew she wouldn�t explain that we couldn�t afford it. Amy was sitting cross-legged by the Ping-Pong table. She just lowered her gaze to her plate, though, once again leaving me to be the bad guy�the one who ruined everyone�s fun.
�How about tomorrow, Noah? When we can go to a matinee and the tickets are half price?�
�There is no matinee. You wouldn�t be able to see the screen during the day anyway.�
�What are you talking about?�
�Yesterday when I went to the mainland for my beer run, I discovered a drive-in movie theater. It�s not that far from the bridge. You just pay a buck to park the vehicle. No matter how many people are inside it. Pretty cool, huh?�
�I didn�t know drive-ins still existed,� Dylan said.
�This one looks like a good strong wind will blow it down, but hey, can�t beat the price. Figure we throw some blankets in the bed of my truck, park it backwards, and we�re all set.�
�Noah, you�re a genius,� Chelsea said.
Her comment surprised me. I couldn�t see Chelsea getting excited about watching a movie without the comfort of air-conditioning and a cushioned seat. Maybe she was just impressed that he�d come up with a suggestion that didn�t involve his stomach or their lips.
�Hey, I�ll even pay the buck,� Noah said.
How could I not say yes to a deal like that?
CHAPTER 13
I�d never been to a drive-in before. The designated parking areas were marked with speakers. Noah backed between two of them. The speakers could actually be hung inside the windows of a car, but since we didn�t have windows in the bed of the truck, Noah set them on the sides so we could hear the movie.
Watching a movie at a drive-in is one of those things that sounds better in theory. Even with all the blankets piled beneath us, it was difficult to get comfortable. Until the guys decided the best arrangement would be if they pressed their backs against the cab of the truck, and Amy, Chelsea, and I pressed our backs against them.
It felt great to be snuggled up against Dylan, which as far as I was concerned was the best part of the drive-in experience.
I�d been surprised by the long line of vehicles coming in when we got there. Although judging by the cars with their windows fogged up, I didn�t think most of these people were really here to watch the movie.
I wasn�t too interested either. It wasn�t exactly a blockbuster. There was a psycho on the loose and the people in the house were trying to decide who should go for help. Bad idea.
�Haven�t they seen Scream?� I asked. �Don�t they know there are rules, and you aren�t supposed to go out at night or be alone or��
�Shh!� Noah and Chelsea said at once.
Were they seriously watching this thing?
�Excuse me,� I whispered.
Dylan chuckled quietly. He was resting his chin on my shoulder.
�We should have brought the cookies,� he said in a low voice.
�I�ll let you take the leftovers back to your tent.�
A girl in the movie was creeping through the house, carrying a bat, calling for her boyfriend�who was probably already dead.
�Why are people in scary movies always so stupid?� I asked quietly. �You know the creepy guy is going to jump out��
He did. But even though I knew it was going to happen, I screamed and jumped anyway. So did Amy and Chelsea. A total reflex. The guys laughed like it was the funniest thing. I felt like a idiot. Dylan wrapped his arms around my middle and pulled me closer against him. Perhaps the true reason Hollywood made scary movies. So guys could have an excuse for holding a girl close.
�I�ll protect you,� he said, and I could hear him fighting to rein in his laughter.
Island Girls (And Boys) Page 7