helmet love // 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬

XXXIII

"Uh oh."

Lando glances back over his shoulder at me as he approaches the dart board, swiftly pulling the darts out the board with a smug smirk on his face. He's just hit his number for the third time, making him the killer. I haven't been able to hit my third number for the last couple of goes, I've gotten worse rather than gotten better. I seal my lips together into a small grin, narrowing my eyes at him as he calmly hands over the darts.

"No pressure." He adds, the cool metal tingling my palm.

"None at all." I reply, confidently walking to the line. "I'm winning overall, may I remind you?"

"Not unless we make this the deciding game."

I chew my lip in thought, looking at the time on my phone. It's getting late, maybe we should make this our last. "Sure."

"Do you want to make a bet?"

My ears prick up at the sound of a new competition. I lost our last game in the UK, now I want to get a win back on my shoulders. I look over to the board, the light casting a golden-medal-coloured glow onto it. I'm currently losing, do I really want to make a bet on something that's already going in his favour?

"What do you have in mind?" I ask, looking back to him.

"You can choose what you want, and I can choose what I want." He says, grabbing a high stool nearby and perching on it.

What do I want? I spin the dart between my fingers in thought, staring into space as I think. I haven't got a pass to watch the race yet, maybe he could get one for me? That's hardly any work for him, it's not something that would make you go 'shit' the second you lose the game. I look back at our night out in the UK, hoping my memory can provide me with some of the ideas we never used. Oh, got one!

"If I win, you have to get the same hair cut as Brad." I challenge him, slowly walking back over to Lando.

"I've already done that once, in lockdown." You could practically see that moment replaying in his eyes right now.

"And bleach it."

Lando slowly inhales, his eyebrows pinching together as he processes the bet he's got himself into. He leans his head back and sighs, closing his eyes in dread, fear and regret. I put my hands on his knees, leaning forward whilst giggling to myself.

"Fine." He looks back to me, putting his hands on his head like he's protecting his hair.

"And if you win?" I ask, my heart starting pound like a bass in my chest.

"A repeat of our night in France."

Fuck. Fire starts to burn through my cheeks as I remove my hands from Lando, looking back at the darts board. That wasn't a question either, that is his bet. I can sense him sitting there in all his pride and joy as I can't make eye contact with him. God, don't fuck this up Marci, please don't fuck this up.

"Ok." I stand back on my line, looking down at my shoes as I accept the offer. "Let's do it."

I take a deep breath as I aim my dart at the board; before now, I was just throwing them somewhat towards my number and hoping I'd get lucky. Now I'm focussing, hard, which will make my aim worse. My number is 9, which is on a horrifically irritating and awkward angle that I hope Lando can't hit. His number is 3, which should be easy if I can throw in a remotely straight line. I just have to hit mine first.

I throw the first dart feebly, and it swoops up into the air before landing back down on number 11. Lando inhales through his teeth, pursing his lips at the result of my first throw. "Not far off."