I bent down and smashed my face into my melon in search of the most aerodynamic seed in the bunch. It would have been miles easier if I’d known the difference between aerodynamic and non-aerodynamic seeds. But I wasn’t about to let that stop me. I was going to come out on top if it was the last thing I did.
I gnawed back and forth along the length of my melon quarter like a rabid beaver, refusing to come up for air.Ha!Cash hadn’t believed my corn on the cob eating skills would come in handy. That showed how much he knew.
My head popped up when the crowd cheered. Imagine my surprise when his seed almost hit a produce sign that was so far away I had a hard time reading what it said. My momentary surge of I-told-you-so energy evaporated. Apparently, he knew a lot about spitting seeds.
The spectators around us were more raucous than a bunch of Nascar fans at a swap meet. The louder they cheered, the more it revved up my engine. I dove deeper into the pink flesh of the sweetest watermelon I’d tasted all year—the only melon I’d tasted all year.
Finally, my teeth came crashing down on a seed. I checked my dental work with the tip of my tongue and straightened my back, juice trailing down my cheeks and dripping from my chin.
It wasn’t my best look for a first date, but I wasn’t all that worried about making a good impression with Cash. He wasn’t exactly a stranger. I glanced over at him as I swallowed the fruit.
Never had his chiseled jawline looked more handsome… or sticky. The man was cool as a cucumber and spitting like a champ. His ability to spit like a tobacco chewing camel was putting a serious damper on my plans to dominate him in this ridiculous competition.
He curved his tongue, blew a powerful shock of air, and lunged forward, giving that tiny black seed a proper sendoff that had my knees knocking. “You’ve done this before,” I said with a seed bouncing around in my mouth.
“Yep.”
“That’s not fair.”
“If you lose it won’t be my fault.” He leaned down and took another mouthful of melon. “Less talkin’. More spittin’.”
I spun the seed around in my mouth several times trying to figure out what would be the best technique. There had to be a technique, right?
Come on, Willow. You’re a doer. You’re a winner.
I tried to psych myself up, but it wasn’t much use. Today, it looked like I was about to be a loser—to Cash. And that wasn’t cool. Something deep inside told me I wouldn’t hear the end of it if he beat me.
I took a deep breath and aimed for my target.
China.
Yeah, you heard me right. I was going to spit that bad boy all the way to the other side of the planet, if that’s what it took to win this competition.
I folded my tongue like a taco with the seed nestled inside just like Cash had. I squeezed my eyes shut and blew. In theory, it seemed like a solid seed launching strategy. But in practice? Not so much.
I’d love to say that seed arced through the air and landed clean out of sight, but that would be stretching the truth a tad. After shielding my eyes from the evening sun and scanning the far end of the field of battle for my lone seed, I finally saw where it had landed.
On my own chest.
Cash must have seen me because he laughed so hard that he almost choked on the watermelon he was hoarding in his cheeks. Served him right for eating like a starving chipmunk.
“All right,” I said, wiping my chin, “let’s see you do better.” That was bold talk coming from a woman wiping watermelon juice from the front of her shirt. I’d already seen what he could do with a melon seed, and it put myskillto shame.
Without missing a beat, he launched a seed farther than I knew was humanly possible. My sticky mouth hung open for a moment before I dug back into my melon. I might be going down, but not without a fight.
My only real hope was for one of the other contestants to step up and win this thing. Losing to Cash had my insides tied up in knots. I could get over losing to a stranger, but not to him. His head was sure to swell bigger than one of these watermelons if he beat me. It was hard to imagine a world where he had even more to gloat about, but I was dangerously close to living that reality.
I ducked my head again and pecked at the melon until I found another seed. I clenched my fists and locked them in place on either side of my chest. Then I spewed that seed with all my might, pumping my sad little chicken wings to force every ounce of air out of my lungs.
This time it went farther than my chest—but not much. It landed at the front edge of the table.
I couldn’t spit to save my life.
I’m sure Grandmother would be proud, but that was little consolation when my pride was on the line. There was no chance I was going to win this competition when my distance would be measured in inches and Cash’s would be measured in feet.
I took a second to glance up and down the table on either side of me, wondering just how embarrassing my performance was. I couldn’t tell how far everyone’s seeds were going, but let’s just say that nobody else seemed to be spitting all over themselves.
Nope. That was just me.
