Page 36 of Death is My BFF

“Good luck,” David said with a wink. “You’re gonna need it.”

I flashed a fake smile and spun my baseball cap backward. “Try to keep up, freckle-butt.”

Turns out, I was the one who was screwed. David was a phenomenal Disco Rebel player. It was in his stance. The second he slipped on the sensory gloves and got into formation, I knew he’d nail every instruction on the screen. Our characters awakened and sidestepped across the screens, raising their arms over their head and hitting each beat to the disco music. Our scores deadlocked. David melted into his groove, smooth and confident. On my side of the game, sweat poured down my neck. We stomped and rocked to the same rhythm, the madness to win reflecting back at us through the colorful lit screen.

He was nailingeverymove!

David peeled his focus off the screen, noticed my frustration, and grinned. Then he did the unthinkable and went off the rails, tossing in his own sexy pelvic movements and iconic dance moves in between steps. An off-rail distraction!

“Ever play switch, Twinkle Toes?” David taunted.

He sidestepped toward me. I anticipated this move and we sinuously switched spots, our character’s jumping across the screen to mirror us. Thrown off balance by being on a different side now, I missed a cluster of movements and David got farther ahead.Cheater.

I would see hippie neon game characters with afros boogying in my head every time I shut my eyes before I lost to him now.

“You cheated!” I shouted.

“No, sweetheart, that was flirting. If I wanted to cheat, I’d do this.”

We switched places again. As David slid past, he gripped my waist and spun me around so our bodies were flush together. In one fast movement, he wedged his shoe behind my heel and leaned his weight into me, arching me backward like putty in his hands. He caught me in a perfect dip and posed with a disco finger to the sky.

The crowd cheered.

A crowd?

David picked me up in a smooth tug, and my heart pounded uncontrollably as he leaned in to kiss my cheek.

Electric. Our eyes connected. He twisted back into his game and picked up right where he left off, barely missing a beat.

Warmth migrated up my neck. Off-kilter, I stumbled off the small stage, giving David an insurmountable lead. He ended with anotherSaturday Night Feverfinger to the sky as the screen declared him: “WINNER!” The crowd of women flooded into his space, begging for autographs and taking pictures of him. They must have recognized him underneath his disguise. My mind was inactive as I continued to stare at David’s profile. He chatted with a group of fans and uncapped a marker with his teeth.

My fingertips lifted to my cheek, where his lips had seared my skin like a branding mark.

I went outside to cool down, and sometime later, David found me.

“There you are,” he said, resting his arms on the railing beside me. I was leaning against the outer barrier of the carousel, watching the horses glide up and down. He must have warded off his fans with selfies and autographs because he came alone. “I was looking all over for you in the arcade. What are you doing out here? Wallowing in despair over your brutal loss?”

I playfully nudged him away. “I wanted fresh air.”

“You a hippie now?”

I laughed, despite my best efforts to hold it in.

“Seriously, why the long face?” he asked.

“Thinking.”

“About?”

“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “For my remark in your office.”

“Ah . . . ” He leaned back, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“You mean the savage remark about my womanizing tendencies and superiority complex proving I’ve become completely detached from ordinary life?”

“That’s the one.” I tucked a stray piece of hair underneath my baseball cap and pulled the ends of my flannel sleeves to my palms.

“Listen . . . I tend to make a lot of judgments about people. I always thought it was because I make better decisions than them, but lately, I’m realizing it’s because I’m jealous. I mean, I rarely go out, I never take risks, I don’t warm up quickly to new people. I’m kind of a huge stick-in-the-mud.”And I’m a nobody. “I guess what I’m saying is, I don’t know you well enough to make global statements about your life.”

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