24 April 2012
Chapter 2: Past Starts (Part 3) Denny
I saw a pinball machine and decided to give it a go. The popular theme tune to the Adams Family started up. I pulled back the lever and let it go. The spring raced forward, smacking into the round silver ball and spinning it into the table. The ball bounced off some bells and was heading down towards the bottom. My hands leaned over the edge of the table ready to hit the buttons to cause the flaps to stop the ball from being lost.
“You’ll never beat my score.”
I jumped and hit the button too late. As I turned to see the owner of the voice, my eyes met with this gorgeous guy standing next to me. As if moving in slow motion, I watched the ball bounce and roll down the middle brining the game to a halt. “Dean” he said confidently.
All I could see was his mischievous grin and cool blue eyes. He had long blond hair that swept across his face in rebellious waves. He looked like he had stepped off the set of some Californian beach surfer movie. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
“You got another ball.” He said with a thick Suffolk accent that killed my Mr Muscle Beach fantasy. My hands shook rapidly to the beat of my heart and it was more difficult to pull the bar back the second time. I let it go and tried again to keep the ball on the table but I was all flustered. I managed to hit it back into the game twice more before it disappeared for good.
“It’s your last ball. Do you want me to help you?”
My throat was tied up in knots, pretty much like my stomach and I couldn’t speak. I gave a nod. The next thing I knew, he was standing behind me. His hand clasped over mine and we drew back the lever together. “Never go all the way.” His hot breath tickled my neck. “Otherwise the ball will be too fast to keep up with. You need it to be just enough to put it on the board and get stuck behind those bells. Then you will get the maximum points.” He let go of my hand and I released it. I let it go and as my hands fumbled for the buttons, I felt his fingers guiding me into place, finally resting gently over the top of mine. That was how my romance for ‘Hugo Boss’ had begun.
The scent surrounded me in the same way his arms were. It was intoxicating the way it gripped my senses and spun my world like the little silver ball. From that day forward, it became the smell that I associated with summer, replacing the uplifting fresh salty sea breeze and lashings of sun lotion. I no longer hungered for the tantalising sweetness of a ninety-nine vanilla ice-cream and chocolate flake; I just wanted to taste Dean.
Drift 2.3: Past Starts • Opuss № I