Page 23 of Playing Flirty

A laugh escaped him. His hand slipped into mine, and he made a promise for each of my fingers. Promises I knew he’d try to keep, one of which included attending game nights—as an observer, of course.

“You’ve already got our entire lives planned out. It’ll be okay,” he said.

“I know,” I replied, but even I didn’t believe me.

As soon as Patrick left, I grabbed my phone and called the only person who might understand. Claire answered on the second attempt and agreed to meet me at the Arcade Café downtown.

By the time the bright neon lights of the café came into view, the painkillers had kicked in and my ankle was barely bothering me. I took the corner table because it had a full view of the five arcade machines they’d become known for: Pac-Man, Snow Bros, Donkey Kong, Space Invaders, and my personal favorite, Puzzle Bobble, which was currently occupied by a couple of kids.

Claire stepped inside and adjusted the pink scarf around her neck. Her beige knitted cardigan swung open, revealing a white blouse. Spotting me, her face burst into a soft smile, and knowing how much I enjoyed her rare hugs, she pulled me in for a tight squeeze.

“This place hasn’t changed in years.” She glanced around before scooching into the corner seat.

“Why fix something that isn’t broken?” Mac, the café owner, said as he approached us to take our orders, even though he already knew what they’d be.

Mac opened this café years ago. He never put a sign on the front door, so it had become known as the Arcade Café with the absolute best croissants and coffee in town.

“Hi,” Claire and I greeted him together.

With Mac’s tan skin, floofy hair, and inviting smile, every person that stepped into this place stared at him, unsure whether they were attracted to him or wanted to be him. And he had the most wonderful personality to complement it.

“What are we here for today, ladies?” he asked.

“Cappuccinos, please,” I said.

As soon as he was out of sight, Claire sighed. “I don’t have much time. Dean’s at work so I called my mom, and she’s watching Hannah while she naps, and that’ll probably last around two hours or so. And the longer I keep my mom at my place, the more she’ll clean and discover the frumpled-up clothing I shoved into the closet before she arrived.” Her face cracked into a smile.

I couldn’t help but mimic her. “Your mom reminds me of Rinnia,” I said, referring to the busybody mother in the Haunted Thrones series we were both obsessed with. Claire was to blame for the five never-ending fantasy series I was hooked on.

She burst out laughing, much as I’d hoped.

“Have you finished reading the latest one?” Her brown eyes were wide, and her fingers drummed excitedly on the table.

I shook my head and slammed my ears shut. “Don’t say a word!”

Our cappuccinos arrived, and Claire pursed her lips up on one side, her brown eyes soft. “So, would you rather have coffee or tell me what’s going on?”

I lifted my mug to my lips, attempting to stall what was going to come next.

“You don’t have to,” she added, blowing over her own cup. “We could enjoy our drinks, order dessert, and I’ll watch you play Puzzle Bobble.”

The tension across my shoulders lifted with her words, and for the next few minutes, that was what we did with a series of silly Would You Rather questions. When the two people at the table next to us left, they dragged their kids along with them, and my game was free. I sprinted toward the Puzzle Bobble machine with Claire on my heels.

I dropped a coin into the slot, and with my attention on the colorful balls, a moment of confidence surfaced. “The other day you mentioned going through a, uhm… dry spell.”

“Mm-hmm,” was all she said.

“How did you, uhh… fix it?” I swallowed hard, releasing a blue ball against another. “You don’t have to answer that. I’m sorry. I’ve been going through… something.” Everything that had happened—and hadn’t—spilled out of my mouth, all while I progressed four rounds.

When I finally stopped talking, Claire pulled me in for a side hug, her head only a few inches higher than mine. “I hate that you’re going through this.”

I blew out a long breath and turned my attention back to the game. “I don’t know what to do. He kissed me but I felt… I don’t know. Maybe I didn’t try hard enough.”

“Speaking from experience here… you can’t force it.”

The heartache in her voice tore through me. When our friendship began, Dean was everywhere she was, but over the last couple years I had barely seen him.

“Oh,” I breathed, aware that it took a lot out of her to open up. “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

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