Page 44 of Penalty Shot

Tucking me deep inside the circle of people, Randall charms them by asking their names and inviting them to share their experiences. Flattered by his attention, everyone pipes in with stories of summer camps or complaints about resources. A few ask for autographs. There’s no shortage of questions about the Mavericks. I tune out of those conversations.

From the corner of my eye, I notice Miles with his chin raised and his head in a pivot. His wolfish eyes find me, and I curse the choice to wear red.

“Great to meet you all. I promised Elise a dance, so please excuse us,” Randall says, fully attuned to Miles’s approach.

He guides me to the half-filled dance floor, as close to the stage as possible so a person would have to slalom between pairs to get to us.

Strong forearms tuck my body against a sculpted chest. I allow myself to slump down and inhale deep. Randall’s unique aroma wafts over me. It’s subtle because he doesn’t wear cologne. The fragrance is a mix of detergent and soap lightly sitting on clean skin. I sigh in contentment.

“You’re really good at this dodging game,” I comment with a laugh. “Is it from practice avoiding all the hockey fans chasing you for autographs?”

“Something like that,” he says but without the mirth I expect.

“Sorry, Randall. Helping me is ruining your night.”

“That’s not it,” he says. “People split up all the time. Why is his presence upsetting you this much? Did it happen recently? Was it a bad breakup?”

Of course he would ask. Even while we texted, I could tell that underneath the smooth-talking athlete is a kind, sensitive man. The more I’ve gotten to know Randall, the clearer it is that he would do anything for his friends.

“We broke up two years ago. I’ve only seen him one other time since the split. He came to a performance. Believe me, I had no trouble telling him to take a hike.”

“Shit. I don’t know if I should be impressed or worried,” he mumbles with a frown. “You’re saying, if it wasn’t for the circumstances—”

“If it wasn’t for the circumstances, one of us would have left. Probably me. There’s no dancing around the fact that we haven’t been within speaking distance for a reason.”

He’s quiet for a while. “Not complaining about the dancing part,” he quips lightly.

Laughing, I nod in agreement. Mid-song, the jazz band stops. The screech of a mic snags everyone’s attention.

“Good evening, folks!” Conrad, the fundraising head and my mom’s nemesis, announces. “We’re so happy to have you here! In the next few minutes, I’ll ask that you follow our lovely servers to the adjoining ballroom where dinner will be served. But before you go…”

He pauses dramatically, eyes glinting and forehead sweaty. “To inspire everyone and kick off what is sure to be a successful campaign, the committee wants to announce a spectacular bid. Historic, really.”

Everyone quiets down but it is Randall’s reaction that I notice. His back stiffens and his hands drop away from my waist.

“We would like to announce that the London Getaway, complete with roundtrip flights, hotel accommodations, and tickets to the renowned Royal Shakespeare Company, will be awarded to the unprecedented bidder offifteen thousand dollars!”

The ballroom roars with applause and whistles. Conrad steps back and wipes his forehead. When he returns to the mic, I get distracted by Randall’s lips in my ear.

“Wanna dash out of here?” He sounds panicked.

“Huh?” I ask, not sure what’s going on. And then I hear his name.

“Randall Haughland,” Conrad screams, hand outstretched and palm up like a game show host. “It is my honor to make this special announcement. Come on up the stage and receive the prize for your winning bid!”

Randall is shaking his head so vigorously, he could be a bobblehead.

“Oh my god, Randall!” I say. “Fifteen thousand dollars?”

He looks at me with cheeks flushed. “I thought this was a silent auction.” His eyes shift rapidly, searching for a quick exit.

I try to comfort him. “Just get it over with, maybe?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Resolution stiffens his features. He doesn’t even walk to the stairs leading up the stage. The agile athlete entertains everyone with his prowess by jumping straight on the elevated platform from the dance floor. The room reverberates with raucous cheers.

“Thanks, Conrad. What a privilege to support a great cause,” Randall begins. “I had the pleasure of meeting counselors who work at the YMCA. Thank you for the work this organization does for the community.”

He’s about to leave the stage when Conrad touches his elbow.