Page 155 of The Chance

Palm to palm in the fading sunlight that paints the night in an orange glow, I tug his bandana down over his eyes and lead him into the back of the formerly empty building with my heart pounding and my skin prickling.

Fuck, I hope he likes it.

“Wait here. No peeking.”

Leaving him in the center of it all, I run around the room to flip on the twinkle lights and neon signs I’d hung while I was ignoring that I was in love with him.

I don’t make it to pulling all of the dust covers before I’m drawn back to his side by that ever-present draw only he has. He’ll get the gist.

“Okay,” I murmur and step to him. “If you hate it, I can undo it. So just … be nice.”

He’s vibrating when I cup his face and thumb up the material over his eyes. He blinks at me, pupils flexing with adjustment to the sudden light, andgasps.

“You didn’t.”

Biting my lip, I nod, stepping back for him to get the full view.

“You turned it into a real fucking arcade?!”

His voice cracks on that last bit as he swings around, taking in the addition of old school gaming machines all around the roommixed with a few of the newer ones. The color-splattered carpet. The posters and signs. A bar with only root beer on tap and every flavor of soda imaginable at the fountain once we refresh the syrups. There’s even a candy display that’s yet to be stocked.

When he spins back to me, his bottom lip is wobbling, and his eyes are misted over.

“Well? What do you think?”

Those tears spill over his lashes and he dives into me, wrapping his arms around my neck and kissing the air from my lungs.

“It’s amazing.”

Sniffling, I let loose a wet snicker and clear my throat.

“There’s one more thing.”

Mac pins me with a look that screams all the things his voice doesn’t say. “When did you do all of this?”

I shrug and clasp his hand in mine, tugging him in the direction of the front. “When you were gone.”

“You—” A choked sound cuts him off and more tears cascade down his face. “Jordan.”

The corner of my lips tip up and I pull him to me as we round the wall I added, making sure his back is to the still wet mural.

Good. Fucking. God.

I clear my throat and blink back the moisture in my own eyes at the sight.

Peach sent me a photo that absolutely did not do this justice.

It’s perfect.

Grabbing Mac’s shoulders, I pull in a composing breath filled with his rich, sweet scent and grin.

But, fuck, it’s still watery.

“Okay, fuck, just turn around.”

I push on his shoulders, and he spins.

Gasps.

---