18. Bonus Round
18
Bonus Round
I flung my arm in a windmill for extra flair points. “Come on, this is our bonus chorus,” I chided.
“If I draw back anymore, I’m gonna hit you in the face.” Sal laughed.
Our score counter flared white, then burst for an encore. I focused on each key-combination in rapid succession. My hands ached from clenching the guitar handle so hard. Sal bit his lip and rocked, easily smacking the pads to the beat. It didn’t always react right, though. Maybe two out of every three smacks counted. Our encore got cut short because one pad wasn’t registering and kept throwing off our chain bonus. The audience booed us off the stage.
“What a rip,” he chided the game.
“That’s cheating,” I told the screen. “Or at the very least, buggy. Maybe I can repair the pad?”
“It’s okay, I still had fun.” He wiped his forehead and sat back. “What did you think?”
“I just said, it’s buggy.”
“Of my drumming.” He gestured to the set.
“Ah, yes. What you lack in skill you make up for in enthusiasm,” I teased .
His jaw hung open. “My skill is fine. You just said it’s buggy,” he protested, miming like he was going to smack my thigh with the sticks.
Laughing, I fenced him away with the fake guitar neck. “I was kidding. You were great. At least for the game. I can’t wait to hear you play real drums.”
“Classic rock probably isn’t your thing,” he said, setting the sticks aside.
“I wouldn’t be there for the music. I’d be there for the company.” I fiddled with the fake guitar. Should I give him my instrument, or were we done playing?
His throat bobbed. “Fair. But, you know, even Ash doesn’t come to all my shows. Not that we have a lot to begin with. We’re just a basement band.”
I set the guitar aside and sat beside him on the couch. “What’s a basement band?”
“We play other people’s songs and hang out in my bud’s basement.” He propped his elbows on his knees and fidgeted with his goatee.
“That sounds nice,” I said.
“Not…I don’t know, pathetic?” He chuckled without humor and peeked at me.
Why would that be pathetic? “I’m a basement robot tech. That doesn’t make me any less impressive or passionate. Plus, you’re doing something creative with your friends. There’s nothing embarrassing about that, even if you don't get gigs.”
He smiled softly at the floor. “Yeah, when you put it like that, I guess I’m not so bad.”
Why was he so down on himself? I laid my palm on his shoulder. “Sal, I’m not sure what happened to make you feel less-than, but you’re an amazing person. Anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend.”
He hunched into himself and laughed. “Thanks. ”
“Hey, I mean it.” I tugged him to face me and even took off my glasses so he could read my facial expressions better. “I’m glad you’re my friend.”
His gaze flicked across my eyes, then my lips. “I…am glad you smashed my drone so we could become friends.”
I snorted, clutching his shirt so I could push him and drag him back. Laughing, he steadied himself with a hand on my leg. My insides whirred with excitement. He was joking around again.
“If I ever fell in love, I’d want it to be with someone like you,” I said.
“What?” His brows furrowed, but his eyes brightened, so he wasn’t alarmed so much as surprised, I guessed. “Why?” he asked.
My heart skipped a beat.
“It would be easy. To get along with you.” I flexed my hand, my fingertips brushing his warm neck. “You’re kind and curious. We never run out of things to talk about, and you have a great laugh.”
“It helps that I’m handsome.” He grinned. Fuck those gorgeous dimples.
I mirrored his smile and pinched his chin with my free hand. “A little scruffy, but yes.” His goatee could use a trim. I traced the fair hair around his lips. It was much softer than the synthetic stuff I used for robots.
He leaned into my touch and hooded his gaze. “I’m also a good kisser,” he rasped.
My heart skipped a beat when I met his gaze.
He wasn’t demanding anything. There was some element of suggestion, though.
Was he inviting me? Asking?
I couldn’t comment on his prowess until I’d experienced those kisses. And his lips did look soft. Tempting.
It’d been a long time since I’d kissed anybody. Curiosity wound around my gut and squeezed. Why not try it? He offered them freely. No attachment, no regrets .
“Let’s see,” I said, tugging on his shirt.
His gaze flicked to my mouth. “You want to try me?”
I nodded. Even if it was a disaster, he’d still be nice about it.
We inched closer and farther away, dancing like two spinning magnets, not sure when they’d snap together. I couldn’t kiss him. This was supposed to be his talent.
He chuckled, his breath sweet from pineapple, and cupped the back of my head. “Are you sure you want this?”
I rolled my eyes and grinned. “Yes.”
He smirked and pulled me closer. I clenched my fist on his shirt, bracing for the swoop of my gut and the crash of his lips. But this kiss was anything but a mess. It was lightning in a bottle, a jolt of intense affection. He was tender and hot, soft but strong. My pulse thrummed with excitement. Was this what kissing was supposed to be like? He supported my neck and cradled me against him, gently sucking my lips. This was nice. Good, even. Like a shoulder rub but wetter. Maybe a little fuzzier. I smiled, rubbing his jaw. When he let go, I caught my breath, then embraced him when he returned for another kiss. The affection pulled my insides tight like a trampoline and peeled off the protective film around my heart.
Wow. Kisses. They fanned some hidden flame. I wanted more, but I wasn’t sure what or where. More tongue? Pecks down my neck? Suck my earlobe? Pull his hand onto my ass? I couldn’t straddle his lap without simulating sex. Did I want that?
There were too many thought-branches and not enough brain power to follow through on any of them. Everything powered my nerves, instead, a pleasant buzz simmering under my skin.
My lips puckered as he pulled away.
“How was that?” he whispered, massaging my neck .
I lingered in his space as if our brains and bodies could be synced by proximity. My forehead brushed his as I drifted out of the haze. How was it? “Above average,” I managed.
He threw back his head and laughed.
Oh, god. There it was. My stupid brain had short-circuited. At least I got to see those dimples again.
I rubbed my brow, then hid my burning cheeks against his chest. “Sorry, I don’t have much comparison.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed.” He squeezed my shoulder. “You’re good too, Zero. Dare I say above average?”
Fuck. My chest flared with sparks.
I lightly smacked his arm and giggled.
This was bad.
Knowing my luck, I’d blow up our whole friendship the second he trusted me with it, which sucked, because I really fucking liked him.
But when he smiled at me, it felt like maybe, just maybe, we’d survive it.