Chapter 8
Elsie
Ihadn’t had this much fun in months. For months, I stayed pent-up in my house or in the classroom, and rarely with anyone other than my father and my single best friend.
But everything Lukas did made me laugh harder than the last time, and I didn’t want this time to come to a close. I could have stayed here with him at High Score for hours and hours more. But I wasn’t sure his ego could handle many more blows.
Because, true to my word, I was beating him at nearly every game.
“Are you a professional arcade gamer or something?” Lukas asked, laughing at himself as our fourth round of Mario Kart came to a close. I’d won every single game, but only by one position. I came in first, and he in second.
“No, I’m just better than you. It’s okay, nothing to be ashamed of,” I joked, turning in the game’s seat to face him. We’d been hogging these two machines for too long and needed to move on.
“We still haven’t played skee ball,” he commented, standing and holding a hand out for me to stand as well.
Lukas was the epitome of a gentleman. He always grabbed my hand when I went to stand, even though I could certainly stand on my own.
He placed himself between me and strangers when they passed by us in tighter spaces, which he had no clue was a big deal for me.
And he paid for everything, including both of our game cards.
I would have gladly paid for my own, but he wouldn’t even entertain my protest at the card kiosk.
“Are you sure you want to lose another game?” I asked, keeping my hand in his as he led me across the arcade. We’d played everything from a dancing piano game to a dinosaur hunting game with fake rifles. And I’d consistently done better than him. Gaming was not a strong suit for Lukas Bristol.
“I’ll take the loss if I must.” He winked at me and squeezed my hand before we stopped in front of two open skee ball machines. “But I really think I’ll win this one.”
“You said that about the last ten games, Lukas.”
“I’ll never give up hope!” he declared, swiping both of our game cards at our respective machines. “Ladies first.”
I grabbed the ball, knowing well that he could easily beat me.
I wasn’t even sure I’d played this as a kid.
So, I certainly wasn’t going to make the ball into the one-thousand-point hole.
I pulled my arm back before rolling the ball up the aisle.
My skill revealed itself quickly: the ball had too much curve, and instead of rolling up into the game, it hit the plexiglass on the outside of the machine.
The ball clacked back onto the aisle and rolled back to me.
I bit my tongue to hold back a laugh, and when I looked at Lukas, it appeared he was doing the same thing.
“Okay, maybe I actually will win this one,” he said, before expertly flinging his ball up the ramp, landing it in the five-hundred-point hole.
I rolled my eyes, trying to mimic his actions. And instead of making it into any of the circles that awarded points, it rolled down to the bottom of the game, where I was awarded ten points for effort.
“Use your wrist more, but not enough to send it into the glass again,” Lukas explained, showing me again with his second ball, sending it into the five-hundred again.
I huffed and tried to mimic him, but got the same result.
Lukas smirked before sending another ball up the ramp, this time landing it in the smallest goal in the top corner, earning two thousand points.
“You’ve obviously played this a lot more than I have,” I teased, pushing him away from me as I tried again. This time, I got it into the one-hundred-point goal. Woo.
Lukas’s tender grip was on my wrist, and he shook my hand around. I let my hand flop around as he did, a giggle coming up my throat. “Loosen your wrist.”
I sent my fourth ball, landing it in the one-hundred-point goal again. Lukas sent another of his, landing the one thousand point goal.
Rolling my eyes, I relaxed and just threw the ball, not really caring to do well anymore.
The ball flew up the ramp and landed in the five-hundred-point goal.
My head whipped to the side to see if Lukas saw that, but he wasn’t looking at the game; he was looking at me.
His eyes held a soft glint I hadn’t seen before.
“Did you see that?” I asked, jumping in excitement.
“You’re turning into a pro already,” he answered, grinning at me. He’d given me that stunning smile so many times tonight, and I wondered how I even got here. I would never have imagined that I would ever go on a date, as he called it, with Lukas Bristol. Never even considered him as a potential.
“Okay, I’m going to try again.” I picked up another ball and launched it, but to my dismay, I had not become a pro, and it rolled down into the bottom. Then an idea rolled into my mind, and I couldn’t help but act on it.
I waited for Lukas to finish his next ball, which scored another one thousand, and then I grabbed his arm and pulled him behind me, not questioning my boldness. He’d made me feel comfortable and relaxed with him so far. It was cheesy and cliché, but I didn’t care.
“You’ll just have to help me,” I said, standing in front of him with a ball in my hand. Lukas’s breath caught, but he cleared his throat quickly.
Slowly, his hand touched my elbow and slid down until his fingers wrapped around my wrist. His face was centimeters away from mine, and his chest brushed against my back.
I did my best to relax in his grip and allowed him to guide my arm backward and then forward.
He pushed my hand with one finger to make my wrist flick forward, and I released the ball.
I wasn’t even watching the ball as it rolled up the ramp, instead, turning my head ever-so-slightly to get a glimpse of Lukas’s face right next to mine.
The scent of his cologne that I’d caught before now infiltrated my senses with its dark musk.
The sound of the ball sinking into a goal caught my attention, and I looked over to see it had landed in the one-thousand-point goal. But I didn’t jump or celebrate. No, my heart rate was in my throat, and I could barely breathe being this close to him, even though I was the one who instigated it.
“Perfect,” Lukas muttered, his breath hot on my face.
I couldn’t come up with anything clever or witty to say, so I just hummed out a response.
“Think you can do it on your own?” he asked, taking one step back and allowing his fingers to trail back up my arm until he was no longer touching me. I felt the loss of his touch in the tingles he left behind. He took a few more steps to my side, almost back in front of his own game.
Without answering, I picked up another ball, kept my eyes locked on his, and threw the ball with no care or intentionality. I heard it clatter and roll, but had no clue where it landed.
Lukas’s expression darkened as he stared back at me, also paying no attention to the game.
His jaw flexed a few times, but I still didn’t look away.
Truthfully, I wanted to step into his space and bring his lips to mine.
Which was ridiculous, considering this was only the first time I’d been out with him.
But the serious look in his eyes and slight flush to his cheeks had me wondering if he somehow felt the same.
And simply because I couldn’t handle the tension building between us becoming unbearable, I turned back to the game and grabbed the last ball I had and threw it.
I watched as it fell to the bottom again, not caring.
Focusing on my breathing, I listened as Lukas sent his final game ball and the machine's resulting ding.
Act normal.
“Okay, so you’re better than me at one game,” I admitted with a nervous laugh, knowing that he definitely could see how flaming hot my face was. But I was going to be casual and hope that things would go back to normal.
“Let’s find another that I can win,” Lukas said, quickly grabbing my hand and pulling me away from skee ball.
I couldn’t help the giggle that calmed me down.