Page 30 of The Crafting Con

I consider not answering. Hold out for all of two seconds before twisting around in the chair and looking back at where she stands in the doorway. “Hey. Just thought I’d get some fresh air. I’m, uh, not one for crowds.” With the obvious exception of conventions, but I hardly need to explain to Ava why that’s different. She already knows.

She slips outside, closing the doors behind her. There’s a clicking of heels across the stone pavers as she makes her way to the chair next to mine. She sinks into it with a sigh reminiscent of my earlier one, and leans forward, unbuckling the straps of her shoes and kicking them off. “Whoever invented heels was a sadist,” she mutters, wiggling her freed toes.

I shift in my seat and try not to think about how embarrassing the evening’s Ping-Pong massacre was. Or the fact that Ava had a front row seat to witness it. “Why wear them then?”

She tucks her hair behind her ear and shoots me a look I struggle to interpret. “I’ve been asking myself that same question all night.” A pause, then, “I’m sorry about Tyler. He didn’t need to go that hard. Not when…” She trails off, biting her lip.

“When I was already losing so epically?” Her cheeks flush red, and I find myself chuckling despite myself. “Give it to me straight, how big is the goose egg on my forehead from that last hit? I’m too scared to look.”

Her lips twitch. “Your face is fine.”

“I don’t believe you.” I groan, hamming it up to the max. “It’s ruined. My beautiful face is ruined. And here I’m seeing Jenni Messenger next weekend. Curse my luck.”

She laughs, and my heart drinks in the sound of it. “Your face is as handsome as ever, I assure you. But seeing as Jenni is in her thirties, I’d say the point is moot.”

She’s joking, same as me, but her words catch me off guard all the same.

Does she really think I’m handsome?

Before I can fully process this absurd idea, a wave of muffled voices crashes through the still night air as the doors to the house swing open. “There you are.” Tyler swaggers out onto the patio, gaze locked on Ava. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Stasia’s busting out the karaoke, and I have the perfect duet in mind for us. You’ll love it.”

Ava’s smile dims, and I swear her eye twitches, although I suppose it could be a trick of the light. “I’m, uh, not much of a singer. You’d be better off asking someone else.”

“What? No way.” Tyler glances at me. “Come on, Aimes. Surely you can suffer through one song? It’ll be fun.”

Yeah, ’cause the words suffer and fun go hand in hand.

I try not to roll my eyes.

I fail.

Thank goodness for low lighting.

Ava sighs, then grumbles good-naturedly. “Fine. One song. And it’d better not be some sappy love song.” She scoops her heels off the patio floor and unfolds herself from her chair. Meets my gaze. “Care to come along and enjoy my impression of a goat bleating up close and personal?”

And watch her fall further under Tyler’s spell while he unleashes that ridiculously good voice of his? The sheer level of gifts this guy’s been graced with is seriously unfair to the rest of us mortals. “I’m good, thanks. You two have fun.”

She hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Sure, I’m sure.”

She doesn’t move.

Tyler hooks her elbow and tugs her toward the door. “He’s sure. Now come on. I’ve already got our song queued up.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” She falls into step beside him, her lips still moving, but whatever she says is lost to the bustle of the party inside. I watch them disappear into the crowd. Stare for a beat longer. She doesn’t come back.

I take out my phone and text Hiro.

It’s well past time for us to leave.

CHAPTER 13

AVA

Seven days until OA Con

Last night was a train wreck. First Declan was acting all weird and standoffish, then Tyler goes and challenges him to some over-the-top Ping-Pong showdown, because he loves to compete so much he can’t comprehend anyone not feeling the same. And then he calls literally everyone down to watch? I could have wrung his ridiculously thick neck.