I'm sweating and because I'm blindfolded, I feel each individual drop sizzling my skin. It's too crowded in here and I'm starting to feel the full weight of the pressure. A five-point lead is pretty sizeable halfway through, but by no means guaranteed.
A hand takes my arm, Drake's voice coming into my ear.
"Let's get you of here for a bit. You're looking pretty stressed, man."
He leads me outside and I hear another pair of footsteps behind us. For some reason, I'm not surprised to discover it's Caveman.
"You need a smoke, Nick?"
"...No. I need something to drink. Get me a shot."
One of them, I don't know who, runs back in and comes out a few moments later, shoving a shotglass into my hand.
I toss it back without bothering to ask what it is. Whatever it is, it's delicious, with a sweet grape flavor dominant, notes of what tastes like vodka and rum underscoring it.
"Thanks."
"No problem", Drake answers.
"You sure you don't want a cigarette?" The sound of Caveman clicking his lighter on echoes through the silent, dark night, the licorice scent of Djarum Black wafting in my nostrils.
"No, I'm good... and I don't mean to be a dick, but do you think you could go back inside with that? The smoke's bugging me right now. I'm just trying to concentrate, you know?"
A sensation of icy hostility hits me, but it fades as Caveman's feet shuffle back through the door.
Drake chuckles, "Man, I don't get that guy sometimes. Sometimes I wonder why we even pledged him."
"Because in spite of all his faults, he's a good guy. ...And he's smart as hell, which is good for our chapter GPA."
"True enough", Drake replies as we wryly laugh over it together. Any fraternity chapter worth anything emphasizes academics, because one of the biggest selling points we have against the Greek stereotypes is that generally speaking, the Greeks have higher GPAs than the average student. It's a vital weapon against the war of anti-social sorority and fraternity misunderstanding.
We're silent for a time while I let the pleasurable liquor flow through me, the taste and the booze mixing in with the silence to calm me, flushing out my nervousness and worry.
"Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I'm proud of you, Nick. Although I was always pissed at you for not running for office, you're more than making up for it here by doing this. Win or lose, you've officially become a chapter legend and your story will be told for years after."
"Thanks, but you know I never cared about that kind of thing. I'm just a guy who does his part for our chapter and for our fraternity."
And it's true. It's one of the fundamental differences between me and guys like Caveman, who stress and worry so much about wanting to be one of the top dogs that they never will be one. It strikes me, far too late now of course, that maybe I should've tried a little harder, done a little more. I'm ashamed to realize now that I wasn't the best Theta Sigma Phi I could be.
Drake must be able to read the look on my face, because his hand claps my shoulder, "Hey, don't worry about it. Like I said, you're making us all proud tonight. Just go in there, do the best you can and get that girl, all right?"
"All right."
******
"Ladies and gentlemen, take your places. We're about to start again. Mr. Astor? Whenever you're ready."
I should not be losing to that inferior twit. Not me, not Chet Astor. My family is known for doing great things and to lose here would be to shame my name.
But enough thinking, for thinking leads to defeat and doing is the way to victory.
"8!"
"7!"
"8!"
Let's see him beat that.
*****
"Oh no! Poor Nick!"
"He can still do it. I have faith in him."
"So do I. Oh! I almost forgot! Baron Suchet and Viscount Duchovny both agreed to have my picture taken with them, so we can do it right after the duel?"
"Sure."
Man, she owes me big for this. Hmm, maybe I can finally talk her into playing priest and nun one night.
*****
Shit, shit, shit. Not good, not good.
Okay, remember, deep breath. I can do this, I can definitely do this. It's just me shooting practice rounds. No stress, no worry.
I step up to the line with F.W.'s vocal cue, take another breath, take aim and fire.
"5!"
Okay, a little -too- loose there. I tighten up and try again.
"2!"
...Way too tight.
I close my eyes behind the blindfold, letting the target and its details come into view. My hands and arms follow my eye and once I think I've found my spot, I shoot.
"10!"
YES! REMEMBER THAT!
They're going wild with applause, even more so than last time, but it's a distant memory as the sweating pops back up again and my heart's pounding as F.W. reports the score.
"Going into the final end, it's Mr. Astor 56, Mr. Hunter 55!"
*****
"Ah, Mr. Hunter's just one point away."
"I see that."
My father looks at me, trying to read my face, but I just twirl the ring on my left hand and pretend great interest in the play of the room's light on its diamonds.
No one can know what I'm thinking, what I'm feeling. Not yet. I'm the prize to be won, after all and so must maintain perfect neutrality.
So I keep a composed, indifferent face as I watch Chet Astor line up for his final end.
"9!"
"8!"
"10!"
"Door's open, but only a little bit. It'll be a tight squeeze for your boy."
Father, do please shut up.
******
....I have to be perfect, or so close to perfect I have a very slim room for error. Suddenly I wish I hadn't taken that shot, because my stomach's raging and my hands are shaking.
I can barely concentrate as I step to the line, I'm so tense. Shit! This is why I don't do this shit! This is why I play it safe and never challenge for anything!
The stillness of the crowd is oppressive as I raise my bow. I can't even visualize the target, I'm wigging out so bad.
"Nick! Wait! You've got a phonecall!"
...What? I'm confused as everyone else, a murmuring rippling through the hall as a cell phone's pressed into my hand.
I blink beneath the blindfold and set my bow down to hold the phone to my ear.
"Hey, buddy! How's my favorite fellow ladies man?"
...No. It can't be.
"Terry?! How the hell did you-"
"Drake called me and told me about the little duel you've got going on. Listen, I just wanted to say that if this girl's worth it, you'll find a way to win. I'm actually kinda jealous of you, bro. I mean, yeah, I'm banging supermodels and starlets left and right out here, including my second wife, but there's no love in it. Guys like us, we fall in love maybe once in our lifetime, even if that. This is your chance, your love. Don't let it fly away man."
And just like that, all the stress evaporates in this sudden feeling of wonder. Terry McClintock of all people, jealous of me.
"Thanks, Terry. I owe you one."
"No problem, man. Just win one for the Theta Sigs and win one for yourself, all right?"
"Will do."
I blindly hand the phone back to the hand that reaches for it and take up my bow once more.
Now the target comes into view again in my mind and I'm able to aim and fire right where I want it.
"9!"
Okay, okay. No pressure, even though I need to hit both shots in the 10 spot to win it...
It felt just a touch high, so I lower the point a little and shoot again.
"10!"
I smile as I hear the wild screams of the brothers and alumni. I've got this. All I need to do is keep the same pose and fire... just like...
NO! NO! NOOOOO!
My hands, still slick with sweat from the exertion of it all, slip as I let the arrow fly and I'm screaming inside as I hear the arrow fly down and scuttle across the floor.
I don't even wait for F.W.'s grim-faced zero to tear off my blindfold and stare, just stare at the fallen arrow.
This can't be real.
It's just a dream, that's all it is.
Just some nightmare I'll wake up from.
I can't have lost her, I can't have lost her now. Not when I was so damned close, not when she was... "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!"
My scream roars out of my mouth, but I don't care. I don't care how much an idiot I look. I've let myself down, let Melody down, let all the brothers down, let everyone down! I'll never be able to live with myself for this.
"Nick. Stop."
A cool breeze. Melody's voice ringing out commandingly through the crush of people as she steps forward, calm as ever and so pretty in her white dress.
I'm panting, but I stop, looking up at her from the floor I don't remember falling on. Everyone else is watching her too.
"I have decided not to accept the terms of the duel."
"You can't do that", Chet cuts in, "You've already agreed to it and that's that."
She turns and looks at him with all the nobility and aristocracy that her ancestry no doubt instilled in her, her face positively regal.
"Is this not the United States? Does not America, with its traditions of democracy and individual liberty, dictate through that long heritage that I have the right to choose who and under what terms I marry?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Caveman open his mouth, no doubt to interject, but Drake kicks him in the shin before he can say anything.
"All right, fine. I can be generous enough to allow you that, I suppose. What are your terms?"
Melody slowly and majestically turns about again, her movement so graceful and so natural, she would look incredible on the stage. Maybe it's her father's theater blood in her or maybe it's something that's uniquely her. Maybe both, but she takes my breath away just watching her.
"Nick. Stand. Come here. Chet, you too."
And here we are, spellbound like sailors to a Siren, like the mythology story Caveman told me about one time. We follow her command and stand in front of her, each of us on either side, because I know if we get too close, I'm going to strangle that smug prick.
"The one who marries me will be able to answer this question. What does the word Paraiba mean to me?"
"What? That's a stupid ques-"
"I know what it means."
Chet starts and glares at me, his face a mixture of confusion and hostility, while Melody smiles serenely, waiting for me to go on.
"It's where you found the thing that's most precious to you, when you were sweet sixteen and begged your father to let you go digging in the mountains, something nobody would imagine you of all people doing."
Her smile widens, brightening and enlivening the whole room as the crowd laughs appreciatively at the image of this pretty, elegant girl traipsing about in the dirt.
I step forward to grasp her hand before she can speak, ignoring Chet's furious gaze plunging daggers into my back.
"And that's what you are, Melody, the most precious thing in the world to me, even more than my brothers, even more than fishing or making pancakes or hot tubs.. even more than the fraternity. You're my Paraiba tourmaline."
She answers me with a kiss, the kind of deep, full, love-flavored kiss that you see in movies and wonder if it'll ever happen to you. It's happening to me now and all the cheers and all the faces fade away in the bliss of this kiss, this confirmed love that will be mine forever after, until we breathe our last and the world knows only memories of us and our story.
I break away from her with a smile, my fingers closing about the ring on her finger.
"May I see this?"
She nods and I pull the ring off. After a moment's inspection, I walk out on the range and pick up my bow and the fallen arrow.
With everyone watching, I toss the ring high in the air, line up my shot and fire.
The arrow goes whistling through the air, the head catching in the loop of the ring and striking the bullseye of our duelling target.
The crowd breaks out in applause, the ring whirling around the arrow twice before settling. I grin, draping my arm around Melody as a furious Chet stalks out to retrieve the unwanted jewelry.
I don't know what's going to happen after this, but I do know that I've found my beautiful girl at last.
And there is no sweeter history than that.
~The End~
(OOC Note: Authorial Afterword to follow)