Chapter Six
The next week flew by in a whirlwind of flour and sugar and bread dough and icing with no breaks for even a weekend. Liza did a little teaching and a little observing and a whole lot of intimidating, but Regan felt pretty good about her work. Her scones came out a bit dry, but her cranberry orange bread was a thing of beauty. By the time they reached their first weekend off, Regan was more than ready for some downtime.
But before she could have that, there was a plan suggested for Saturday afternoon and into the evening. Liza was heading out of town for a long weekend for some kind of press thing, but she’d given them suggestions, things to do in town if they wanted to get out of the house for a while, one of which was an adult arcade and game room.
“Who’s in?” Madison asked, as the six of them sat around the dining room table Saturday morning, sipping coffee and eating breakfast. “I don’t know about you guys, but I hear Skee-Ball calling my name, and I will wipe the floor with you bitches.”
Maia raised her hand and laughed as she spun her purple bandanna around her neck and said, “Awfully cocky for somebody who’s going to get her ass kicked by moi .”
“Oh, it is on ,” Vienna contributed. “’Cause I’m gonna slaughter both of you.”
“I suck at Skee-Ball,” Paige said, with a slight frown, but raised her hand anyway.
“No worries,” Madison told her. “I googled this place last night, and there’s tons of stuff to do. Are you good at video games? They’ve got some cool old-school ones like Ms. PacMan and Frogger .”
“I was just gonna stay here and rest,” Paige said, her voice shy, as if she was worried about some kind of judgment for not wanting to go to an arcade. She scrunched up her face in clear concern.
Regan reached over and gave her arm a squeeze. “I was, too, but then I thought maybe I’d go today and blow off some steam, then chill tomorrow and Monday, since we have that off, too. You know? What do you think?”
Paige’s expression was grateful, and she gave a gentle nod. “That sounds like a good plan.”
“Ava?” Madison prodded, looking at the only one who hadn’t chimed in.
Ava looked around the table and must have realized how unsociable it would look for her to be the only one who opted out. She gave a nod and raised her hand. “Sure. Why not?” Madison clapped, and murmurs of approval ran around the table.
All right. So they were going to an arcade to play video games and act like kids that afternoon, and then they’d get dinner and drinks. Liza had graciously provided them with a driver and a van so they didn’t have to worry about a DD, which was, honestly, pretty freaking cool of her.
“I’m off to shower,” Maia said, draining her coffee cup and then grabbing a banana off the fruit tray. Then she pointed around the table. “You should probably prepare for defeat. Peace out, bitches.”
Madison snorted and Paige and Vienna both laughed as they all pushed to their feet, as if Maia’s departure was their cue.
“Meet in the foyer at noon?” Vienna asked, and they all agreed.
Regan had some ideas she wanted to research, bakes for upcoming days and weeks. She glanced at Ava to see if she was headed upstairs, too, because she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be in the room with her. They were still sort of circling each other as roommates, and they didn’t talk much, but they were civil. When Ava stood with the rest of them, Regan decided it was fine. The room was big enough for them to work on their own sides and not be in each other’s way. Her mother had raised her to be polite. She could make it work. She should make it work. She would make it work.
She headed up.
When she got to her room, Ava was headed into the bathroom, a pile of clothing in her hands, and Regan wondered about that. Was it because Regan was gay, and Ava knew it and didn’t want to undress in front of the gay chick? The idea annoyed her a little bit, but so did a lot of things about Ava Prescott.
Deciding she didn’t care at all about Ava’s weird little hangups, she whipped her own top off, then her bra. She was bent over and rooting through her suitcase for clothes for their outing when Ava came out of the bathroom, startling her.
Regan stood, breasts on full display.
Ava stared, eyes going immediately to them.
A beat passed.
Then three things happened in quick succession. Ava yanked her gaze away just as Regan’s hands flew up to cover her nipples. Then Ava hurried to her side of the room and Regan hurried to the bathroom and shut the door.
Neither of them said a word.
In the bathroom, Regan leaned back against the door and blew out a breath. “What the fuck?” she whispered to the empty room.
* * *
So I’m a boob woman. So what? There’s nothing wrong with that. The thought kept rolling through Ava’s head as they bounced along in the van on their way to the arcade. The mood was jovial. There was laughing. Joking. Excitement.
All Ava could think about was boobs.
Specifically, Regan’s boobs.
She was shaking her head, disgusted with her inability to control her thoughts, when Maia called her out.
“Ava. What are you shaking your head about? The fact that you’re gonna lose to me?”
“Yes,” Ava said. “Exactly that. It makes me question the entire point of my existence.”
Maia barked a laugh as Madison broke out in a horrible rendition of Billie Eilish’s song “What Was I Made For?” Then she pointed and laughed harder as the van slid into the parking lot of the arcade and she saw the name: Joysticks. “You know a guy owns this place,” she said good-naturedly.
They piled out of the van. Their driver was named Jimmy, and he was big and quiet. “The strong, silent type,” Vienna had said, trying to get a smile out of him. Spoiler alert: She did. Ava saw him touch Vienna’s arm, then hand her his card. He turned to get back in the van and Vienna met Ava’s gaze, then smiled. She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug as she walked up to Ava. “What can I say?”
Ava grinned and shook her head. “You don’t have to say anything. He’s cute.”
“Right?” Vienna tucked her hand through Ava’s arm, and they followed the others to the front door of the arcade. “He said he thought I looked responsible, so I should just call him when we’re ready to go to dinner.” She suddenly stopped walking and looked at Ava, stricken. “Wait. Ew. I look responsible? Not hot? Not fun? Just…like I could house-sit for him or do his taxes?”
Ava laughed and opened the door for her.
They caught up to the others, and Regan said, “Oh my God, this is like walking into my brother’s room when we were kids. Dark and a little creepy, with lots of blinking lights.”
“If I find any damp socks lying around, I’m outta here,” Madison said, followed quickly by Paige’s “Ew!”
Being an only child with a hardworking mother and a father who always had other things to do, video games and such had become Ava’s babysitters. There had been a community center within walking distance from her house, and she spent many afternoons there during the summers, playing games with other lonely kids. Looking around Joysticks now, she saw new games and old—Ping-Pong, air hockey, pool tables, foosball—in addition to all the video games, Skee-Ball and claw machines. The clientele was of all ages. Small children jumped in the bounce house, older kids and teens played video games, as did some adults. The sounds of bouncing Ping-Pong balls, slapping air hockey pucks, and cracking billiard balls filled the air and mixed with the bings and bongs and ray guns and music from the video games to create a soundtrack that reminded Ava a lot of her youth.
“Holy crap, I love this place already,” Regan said softly, seemingly to herself. When Ava glanced at her, Regan’s eyes were wide, and she looked like a little kid on Christmas morning.
“What should we do?” Madison asked.
“Who’s up for a tournament?” Maia asked, and Ava was beginning to understand that this was the person who liked taking on the role of organizer. Ava was fine with that, as she absolutely didn’t want that job. “If anybody wants to do video games, go for it. I thought maybe we could do some tournaments on the tables. Like, air hockey, pool, Ping-Pong? I don’t have the first clue how to play foosball, so I’m out on that one.”
Murmurs and head nods went all around, everybody agreeing.
“Poor foosball,” Regan said. “Ousted from the games before it even had a chance to get started.”
Ava grinned and shook her head. “So sad.”
“I see a free Ping-Pong table and an air hockey one,” Maia said, almost to herself.
“I bet there’s a way to reserve next play,” Vienna suggested, then headed toward the pool tables to talk to the guys currently playing.
Maia headed to the front desk to get the equipment they needed, and within ten minutes, they were ready to go. “Who wants air hockey?”
“I’ll play,” Ava said, holding her hand out for the mallet.
“Who’s taking on Ava?” Maia asked.
“I will,” Vienna said, raising a hand.
They turned on the table.
“Wanna warm up?” Vienna offered.
“Sure.”
They spent the next few minutes tapping the puck back and forth to each other. It floated effortlessly between them, bouncing off the sides of the tables until it slipped past Ava’s mallet and into the goal. The table beeped and the little electronic scoreboard gave Vienna a point.
“Thanks, table, but that was just a warm-up,” Vienna said, and reset the score to zeroes. “What do we play to? Ten?” She glanced at Regan and Madison, who were spectating between Ava and Vienna on the air hockey table and Maia and Paige playing Ping-Pong.
“Ten works for me,” Ava said.
“Ready?” Vienna asked. At Ava’s nod, the game began.
And ended less than ten minutes later. Ava: ten. Vienna: one.
“Holy shit, what the hell was that?” Vienna said, blinking.
“Luck?” Ava said with a wink.
Vienna tossed the mallet to Madison. “You’re next.”
Madison did a little bounce on the balls of her feet, comically preparing, giving herself a pep talk: “Okay, here we go. You got this. You got this.” Then she put her hands on her hips, lifted her chin, and stood there for several seconds without moving.
“Are you Superman now?” Regan asked with a laugh.
“I’ll have you know there are studies,” Madison informed her, still holding her pose. “Standing like this for a few moments before anything important—big meeting, conference call—”
“Air hockey game?” Regan asked.
“Air hockey game, yes. Standing like this helps you build up your confidence and feel better about taking on whatever you have before you.”
That confidence lasted a full seven minutes, until Ava scored her tenth goal and Madison stood blinking in disbelief.
“Um, what just happened?”
“Pretty sure Ava just handed you your ass,” Vienna said. “You can hang it up next to mine.” She raised her voice so Maia and Paige, who were still playing Ping-Pong, could hear. “I think we have a ringer in our midst.”
“Seriously?” Maia asked with a chuckle. “Ava, you been holding out on us? You an air hockey pro? You play on a national team?”
“I do not,” Ava said. “But I may have played quite a bit when I was younger.”
Madison handed her mallet to Regan. “Next lamb for the slaughter. Don’t bother with the Superman pose. Waste of time.”
Ava watched Regan approach her own end of the table. She moved her mallet from side to side, apparently getting a feel for it. Placing her left hand on the corner of the table, seemingly to brace, she finally met Ava’s gaze. “Ready?”
Staying calm was a characteristic of Ava’s. Always had been, because of her childhood. Freaking out and losing her mind over something never got her far. In fact, it only made things worse in her world. So she’d perfected remaining stoic. Unemotional.
That being said, Regan, at the other end of the table, ready to play her, did weird things to her composure. Regan’s blond highlights were picking up all the neon in the place, so she looked almost like she was AI, different colors streaking her hair, bouncing off her smooth skin, seeming almost unreal. Her big blue eyes looked wider than usual, and Ava’s gaze roamed down to her chest. Of course, her brain chose that moment to send her a snapshot image of Regan’s bare breasts, exactly as she’d seen them that morning. Creamy white skin, pink nipples, a bit larger than she’d expected—a picture that was going to live rent-free in her head.
She swallowed hard, then cleared her throat.
Okay, yeah, enough of that.
“Ready.”
Regan served.
The volley went for a good minute before Ava scored, and she instantly knew Regan was going to be a good match. “You’ve played before.”
“My brother may have taught me.”
Ava nodded and served, and she was going to have to work for this win. She loved a challenge, that was true. That the challenge came from Regan was going to make it even sweeter when she won. She tucked that in her back pocket and forced herself to focus. She bent her knees slightly so she stood lower, making it easier to predict the trajectory of the puck. The red disk flew over the white table, slamming off sidewalls and thwacking off mallets. It seemed like forever before she managed to score again.
Only then did she notice they’d amassed a bit of an audience.
* * *
People were watching them.
Regan hadn’t realized that until the puck had gone flying off the table, and she had to bend to grab it. When she’d stood and glanced up, there were a good six or eight spectators on top of their own fellow pastry chefs—who’d stopped their own Ping-Pong matches to watch.
Great. ’Cause that won’t add to the pressure. She took a deep breath and served.
Ava was good at this game. Damn good, and Regan almost laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the whole situation. Her past with Ava, ending up rooming with her at the retreat, and now playing a game as freaking obscure as air hockey against her. Who would have ever seen this coming?
Ava scored.
Damn it. She was losing. Time to focus. She bent a bit at the waist, concentrated on watching the puck while it was on Ava’s side of the center line, rather than trying to track it all the way to her mallet. Her brother had taught her that method of defense and she employed it now, trusting her hand to move the mallet where it needed to be without her having to actually look down at it.
She focused, blocked several shots, then made one of her own.
Goal!
Ava’s facial expression hardly changed at all. How the hell did she do that? No smile. No frown. Just…neutral. Whether she scored or Regan scored, Ava was neutral. It seemed to be her thing.
Except…it wasn’t her thing that morning. Oh, no. When she’d seen Regan topless, her expression certainly had changed. It had been neutral, then had instantly cycled through surprise, shock, approval, desire, and embarrassment. All of them, in the space of about three seconds, and Regan had seen each one clearly.
Yes, she’d seen desire.
She was sure of it, and that put a whole new spin on things, because the rumors about Ava’s sexuality she’d heard years ago while working with her seemed to have been confirmed with just that simple glance at her breasts.
Bam! She scored again.
The only proof it had registered on Ava’s radar was the slight raising of her eyebrows.
That’s right. I will see you looking at my boobs for the rest of this retreat. The thought made her grin as they volleyed, but then Ava came way too close to scoring again, and Regan hunkered down.
Eventually, her quads started to ache a bit, and she realized it was from standing with her legs slightly bent throughout the game…which had been going on for nearly half an hour. It was a tied score, and Ava was about to serve. When Regan glanced up at her face, she was smiling softly, and why the hell that disarmed her, she had no idea, but Ava served the puck directly into Regan’s goal.
Game point.
Shit. Okay. Focus, Callahan, come on. Her brain was screaming at her, so she took a deep breath and served. Clearly, this was the forever volley because it went on and on and on until Regan was sure her arm was going to fall off or her eyes would drop out of her head from the exhaustion of following the damn puck.
She gave it a smack and it ricocheted just right and into Ava’s goal.
“Tie score and game point,” Maia reported to the crowd. “Whoever scores next wins.”
In almost any other situation, Regan might’ve argued the “must win by two” rule, but she was too freaking tired and ready to be done.
“Here we go,” Maia said, apparently reverting to color commentary as the crowd hushed. “Ava’s serve.”
The puck whizzed at her hard and fast, but Regan blocked it, sent it back, though not as hard as she would’ve liked. Ava bounced it off the side, and Regan stopped it, shot it back.
Maia would probably say later that it was the longest volley in air hockey history—and it was pretty fucking long—but much to her own surprise, Regan eventually managed to score, and while she would’ve loved to jump around in celebration, she was exhausted, both mentally and physically. She went around the table to shake Ava’s hand.
“Great game,” she said, meeting those dark, dark eyes. Ava’s hand was hot and infuriatingly not sweaty like Regan’s.
“Back atcha. That was fun. I haven’t played somebody as good as you in a long time.” Her smile was tight, the only clue that she was annoyed at having lost. Regan recalled a time in her life when she was reasonably sure Ava was not human. She was an android or an alien or something, and this tight smile only added to that. Like Ava didn’t quite know how to smile.
Of course, she just lost, so…
Regan decided to cut her a little slack.
“Well, so much for the rest of the tournament,” Madison said with a laugh. “We’re all starving and ready for food and drinks.”
“ I am certainly ready for a drink,” Regan said.
“Vienna’s calling our driver,” Maia said. “That was epic, you guys. Wow. How did you get so good?”
Regan looked at Ava, whose cheeks were tinted a cute pink. Ava spoke softly as she said, “I didn’t love being in my house when I was a kid. There was a youth center a couple blocks away, and I hung out there a lot. Played a lot of air hockey.” She lifted one shoulder in a half shrug, and Regan was surprised to hear her speaking with such modesty. And then those dark eyes locked onto hers, and Regan cleared her throat.
“I have a brother, and my grandparents had an air hockey table in their basement. I think it was my dad and uncle’s when they were growing up. We spent a lot of time messing around with it until we got good.”
Vienna returned to the group then. “Jimmy’s outside. You guys ready?”
Twenty minutes later, they were seated at a round table in a casual restaurant called Domingo’s. Regan didn’t realize how famished she was until the smell of sizzling burgers hit her nose, and her mouth filled with saliva.
“Holy crap, I’m suddenly starving.”
“Me too,” Ava said.
Despite Regan’s hope that she might avoid it, she ended up seated right next to Ava, their thighs brushing every so often. Ava smelled nice, even after a nearly forty-five-minute, intense air hockey match. Her scent was soft, like lilacs or baby powder, subtle and inviting. Meanwhile, Regan was pretty sure she smelled like a locker room.
They ordered a round of drinks, and once they came, Maia asked, “Hey, why do you guys think the assistants don’t stay at the house like us?”
Vienna shrugged, then took a sip of her beer, a trace of foam left on her upper lip. “Probably not enough room.”
“Our room could’ve fit another couple of beds,” Paige said with a snort. “It’s huge.”
“Ours too,” Regan added.
“Does everybody like their assistant?” Madison asked. “Kitty seems very cool. Knows her stuff. She was a big help this week.”
“I feel like Becca talks a lot,” Ava said with a soft smile. “But that might just be because I don’t.”
“And she’s gotta ask,” Vienna said, as if she totally got it.
“Exactly.” Ava scrunched her nose. “I should probably work on that.”
“I’m the same way,” Vienna said. “Just stay out of my way and let me do my thing.”
Ava raised her glass in salute, and Vienna touched hers to it.
“You guys are funny,” Madison said. “I want all the help I can get. What about you, Regan?”
“I like Hadley,” she said. “She seems cool and knows what she’s doing. And I’m not gonna turn away an extra set of hands, you know?” She wasn’t surprised that Ava didn’t really feel the need for anybody’s help. It had been a while since she’d worked with Ava, but she remembered her being very solitary. Quiet and solitary, focusing on her work—which was good. But anybody assigned to help was out of luck, especially if they wanted to learn anything. Ava was a terrific pastry chef, and a shitty teacher. “She asks a lot of questions, which I appreciate. Feels like she’s trying her best to learn.”
Okay, yeah, that was passive-aggressive, and she knew it.
She didn’t care.
Also, she’d beaten Ava in air hockey. She hid her grin with the rim of her glass as the waiter arrived to take their orders.