Page 29 of The Crafting Con

“The champ, huh?” I cut him a sideways look as we head down the stairs. “I’ll take that challenge.”

Tyler’s ever-present grin brightens. “Heck yeah. It is on!” This is followed by him whipping out his cell and rapidly firing off a text. “Just told the guys to meet us downstairs. A proper showdown needs an audience, am I right?”

Um, no?

My stomach plummets at the pounding of feet coming down the stairs behind us, the frenetic crowing of a mass of dude-bros echoing off the walls. Is this seriously happening? Ava flicks on the light at the bottom of the stairs, illuminating a big, open room with Ping-Pong and foosball tables on one side, a couch and projector screen on the other. Tyler heads straight for the Ping-Pong table, scooping a paddle from the far end of the long green surface. He stretches his arms over his head, showing off a sliver of abs, and at least three girls in the crowd of onlookers swarming in behind us swoon like extras in a Pedro Pascal movie.

He slaps his palm against the paddle in anticipation. “You sure you’re up for this, Greene?”

I’m legit shocked he knows my last name. Ugh. Why does he have to be so nice? I skulk over to the opposite end of the table and grab a paddle. Toss the lightweight ball into the air. “Less talk, more action.”

The crowd cheers.

My muscles tense.

Tyler laughs, long and carefree. Like this isn’t the single most stressful moment of his life.

I chance a fleeting glance toward Ava, who looks almost as nervous as I feel. Stasia and Hiro flank her sides, and Hiro flashes me a thumbs-up. Mouths, You’ve got this. I suck in a deep breath and roll my shoulders. I can do this. I may not be an athlete, but Ping-Pong is more hand-eye coordination than muscular prowess. And I was pretty good back in the day. I should at least be able to hold my own. “Play to twenty-one?”

Tyler nods, cracks his knuckles. “Best of three.”

“Volley for serve?”

“Nah. You can go first.”

“All right.” I position my paddle, ball clenched in my fist. Release an internal battle cry. The paddle meets plastic with a resounding crack, sending the ball over the net.

Tyler slams it back so hard it whacks me in the face before I can even react.

The crowd goes wild, and what little confidence I have shrivels up and dies as I calculate how many more humiliating points I’ll have to suffer through before I can scurry off with my tail between my legs.

The game is over before I know it, and it’s all I can do to laughingly back out of a second. Another chance at getting my butt handed to me in front of a crowd of gawking classmates? Yeah, no thanks.

Ava tries to talk to me after, but I sidestep her by asking where the bathroom is. Hiro throws me a bone—finally—and offers to show me. As I trudge up the steps behind him, I hear Tyler challenging Ava to a game. I don’t wait around to see if she accepts.

“You okay?” Hiro murmurs. It occurs to me that there was probably a bathroom downstairs, but Hiro must have realized I needed some distance from my humiliating defeat. “That was brutal.”

I fake a laugh. “It’s all good, but man, that Tyler sure takes his Ping-Pong seriously. I mean, jeez. It’s just a game, am I right?”

“He wasn’t pulling any punches, that’s for sure.” Hiro grimaces. “He’s like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde when it comes to sports. All charming nice guy one moment, then bloodthirsty cutthroat the next. Then again, it didn’t help that Ava kept cheering you on.”

I scoff. “What are you talking about? She was cheering for both of us.”

“Eh, I don’t know. Seemed pretty one-sided to me, but”—Hiro shrugs—“I could be wrong. Either way, I think Tyler was feeling a little jealous. Thus the bloodbath. Anyway, bathroom’s down the hall, second door on your right. And don’t you dare go sneaking out through the window, because you’re my ride home.”

“It’s only a mile,” I grumble as I walk away. “You could walk.”

There’s already someone in the bathroom when I get there, and honestly, I don’t actually need it, so I cut through the kitchen and slip out the French doors onto the patio instead. I’m not mean enough to leave Hiro stranded without a ride, but I’m not above hiding out until he’s ready to go either.

Crisscrossing strings of yellow lights illuminate the stone-floored patio, which is blessedly free of party-goers. A sliver of manicured lawn stretches the few yards between the patio’s border and the thick cluster of pines beyond, with what looks to be a man-made koi pond tucked into the corner. The steady trickle of running water loosens the knot in my chest, and I drop down into one of the cushioned Adirondack chairs with a sigh.

What on earth possessed me to come here tonight? A party, the weekend before OA Con? How could I have possibly thought that was a good idea? Every moment I’m here is a moment I could have been prepping for the workshop or perfecting Jenni’s staff. Both of which would be a far better use of my time.

This is stupid. I should just text Hiro and tell him we’re leaving.

I pull out my phone, determined to do just that, and then freeze at the sound of approaching footsteps. Please don’t be Tyler looking for a rematch. I slump down in my chair, praying to go unnoticed.

“Declan?” My chest constricts at the sound of Ava’s voice, breath icing in my lungs. “Are you out here?”