I tilt my head, scrutinizing him. Did he really not pick up that vibe from Larsson? He seems sincere, though, so my guess is that he’s simply dense to those sorts of clues—like most guys.
“Yes, I do. I wonder what happened to that female.”
I keep watching Vaughn, and the way he blushes and then averts his eyes confirms my suspicions. He knows who the female is, or he at least has an idea.
“Man, I can’t imagine getting anything done if my office had all this cool stuff.” He looks around before approaching a wall where there are several shiny objects on glass shelves.
“What are those?” I ask from the couch.
He picks one figurine up and then turns around to show me. “It’s a shiny dragon statue. Do you think these are real gems?”
“He’s a dragon, so I’m betting yes.”
He sets the figurine back on the shelf. “Yeah, probably. Can’t believe he doesn’t have these locked away in a safe.”
“Who’s going to be crazy enough to steal from a dragon?”
“Right. Hey, do you want to play a game? We might be here a while.” He walks toward one of the tables in the room, then looks over his shoulder. “That is, if you’re feeling better.”
My strength has returned, and a distraction could be beneficial. “Sure. What do you propose?”
“Well… we have lots of options. This is a foosball table. You use the handles to move the figurines and shoot the ball into the goal.” He demonstrates, moving his hands fast and then yanking the handle to score a goal.
“Hmm… what else?”
“Okay, not sold on foosball. No problem. Have you ever played pool?” He points at a large billiard table.
“I’ve never played it before.”
“I could teach you.” He smiles, showing his adorable dimples.No, not adorable, Sophie.
“Better not.” I glance around the room and see another table. This one is white with blue lines and red circles. “What about that one?”
“Oh, do you want to play air hockey? It’s super fun and easy to play.”
Does he think I’m slow because I decided against billiards? I knew it’d require him getting into my personal space to teach me, and that’s dangerous territory. I open my mouth to retort, but he adds quickly, “I mean, I won’t have to teach you.”
“Oh… okay. Let’s give it a try.”
We both walk over to the air hockey table, and Vaughn tells me to stay on one end. He grabs the plastic mallet on his side of the table and says, “This is called a striker. You use it to hit the puck into your opponent’s goal.”
“Got it. Sounds simple enough.” I hold the mallet by the knob and glide it across the low-friction surface.
“Here’s a tip. For better dexterity, you should control the mallet with three fingers resting on the ridge instead of grabbing the knob. Like this.” He demonstrates. “Give it a try.”
I follow his example and confirm that handling the mallet in this manner is better.
“All right. How does one win the game?”
“The first player to score seven points wins, with the opponent serving next, typically within a five-minute period. There are some ground rules, though.”
“Let’s hear them.”
“You must stay on your side of the centerline, though you can stand anywhere behind or along the side of your half. You can’t raise the mallet to trap the puck or use your hand or body to touch the puck. That’s a foul.”
“Got it. Anything else?”
“Yeah. The mallet can’t cross the centerline into the opponent’s side. And you can’t strike the puck so hard that it flies off the table.”
