Page 15 of Choosing Me

Wilson’s mouth drops open as I do a victory dance, drinking the last of my beer in celebration. I walk to his side of the hockey table, a smile so wide it hurts my cheeks. “Winner, winner, chicken dinner!”

“I hate you,” he says with a giant pout. I hate the way his brows are wrinkled and his eyes are sad. I do the only thing I can think of; I kiss his full, pouty lips. When I pull back he’s smiling and I call that a job well done.

“What game is next?” I ask, wanting to keep the good feelings flowing.

Wilson takes our empty beers. “You pick the next game, I’ll grab the next round.”

Throughout the afternoon, we somehow manage to make every single game in this arcade into a drinking game, whether we take a drink when we miss a throw, or buy the winner a shot. My head is dizzy and light, my chest feels full, and my heart keeps doing this funny little flip every time Wilson laughs.

At one point, we stumble past a couple with their foreheads pressed together. One of the women falls to her knees, holding out a ring box. The other squeals with joy.

“Romantic gestures like that make my skin itch,” I murmur under my breath to Wilson.

“Being in public during these things always makes me really uncomfortable. There are just some things that are better in the privacy of my own home, ya know?”

I nod my head. “Exactly. You get me.”

“It’s just cringe.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Cringe?”

“I heard it in a YouTube video, Calvin. I’mhip. Down with the kids.”

“Alright, grandpa,” I say, patting Wilson’s chest. “Time to take you home and put you to bed.”

“I hate you.”

“Come on,” I whine, pulling on Wilson’s shirt, tugging him towards the photo booth. “This is the last thing of the day, we can’t skip it just because it’s not technically a game.”

“You’re drunk,” he says with a laugh that lets me know he’s feeling the alcohol just as much as I am.

“Am not,” I say with a pout, both of us knowing I’m lying. I don’t care. The very last thing in this arcade we haven’t done yet is the photo booth and it wouldn’t be right if we left without playing it.

“Fine,” he says with a huff, ducking into the booth. I let out a cheer as I jump in after him. I put in the card that’s only got a few credits left on it, selecting a silly rainbow theme.

“Ready?” I whisper, snuggling up against Wilson’s side. He looks down at me, his face so close to my own. His breath fans over my face and I smile, wondering if my breath smells just as boozy as his.

“Ready,” he whispers back, the tension in this little booth growing. Past the smell of alcohol is the smell of freshly baked bread, a smell that used to make me hungry but now fills me with ease, makes me feel relaxed while also making me excited, because it’sWilson’sscent.

I can’t take it anymore. Losing all sense of control, I slide my hand over Wilson’s white shirt before tugging him forward and kissing his lips.

Wilson makes a noise of surprise before he’s melting into my embrace and kissing me back just as hard. I open my lips, moaning when Wilson’s tongue comes out and touches my own. The sound of pictures being snapped are in the background, but I don’t care. How can I when I have a sexy alpha kissing the daylights out of me? One of Wilson’s hands runs over my back and up into my hair, making a shiver run down my spine in delight. I could get completely and utterly lost like this, just trading kisses with Wilson back and forth.

“Alright, alright,” someone says, making both of us gasp as we pull away from the kiss. “People are waiting for their turn.”

“Fuck,” I whisper, smiling over at Wilson as I try my best to keep my laughter at bay. “Oh my god.”

“Sorry,” Wilson murmurs, grabbing our photo strips and getting out of the booth. God, I hope it doesn’t smell too sweet in there. As we both walk out of the arcade and into the fresh air, we laugh, full bellied and free. I think the last time I felt like this was before my brother found his mate, the two of us doing something idiotic together.

“Thanks,” I murmur once all the laughter has died down, taking the photo strip Wilson is handing me. My side is aching from laughing so much and I can’t find it in myself to be sorry. I look down at our photos, finding a line of four pictures of us making out. God, we look so fucking hot together. “This is totally going on my fridge.”

“You’re an ass,” Wilson murmurs, shoving his shoulder against my own. We sit down on the side of the road. “I should probably get an Uber.”

I lean my head against his shoulder. “I should probably text my brother.”

“Wait with me?”

“Yeah, of course,” I whisper, not moving my head away as we both get out our phones and deal with transportation.

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