Page 36 of Fair Catch

Surprisingly, I go for the latter.

“Tell you what,” I hedge as nonchalantly as I can manage. “Why don’t we say screw waiting for this guy and go do something instead?”

“Nah, we can just go back to the apartment,” he says with a shrug. “I’ve already taken enough of your time tonight for no reason.”

There’s no way in hell I’m letting anyone who gets stood up go back home and wallow in misery and loneliness. I might be a dick, but I’m not fucking heartless.

“Not happening. You’ve already drug me out of the house and away from my studies with the promise of being entertained.” I hold out my arms, motioning toward him. “You’ve yet to entertain me. So we’re going elsewhere and making it happen.”

“Seriously, who are you and what have you done with my jackass roommate that brought me here half an hour ago?” He pauses, frowning before he adds, “Plus, didn’t you say you had an exam tomorrow?”

I did say that earlier this week, though I’m surprised he remembered. More importantly, I’m surprised he’d actually care. “It’s not until the afternoon, it’ll be fine.” When his expression doesn’t change, I quickly add, “Unless you don’t wanna—”

“No, getting out sounds good,” he cuts in quickly, holding up his hand to stop me from changing my mind. “What’re you thinking?”

I wrack my brain for a place that’ll still be open this time of night and hopefully damn near empty. Somewhere off the beaten path, where not a lot of people go. Somewhere it’s impossible to think about all the heavy shit.

And just like that, it clicks.

“I know just the place.”

Grabbing his wrist, I weave us through the throng of people, heading for the front door. Fresh air hits us as we step out into the autumn night, a brisk breeze sending a chill down my spine as we reach my car.

“This feels like kidnapping,” Kason murmurs as he opens the passenger door and climbs inside.

I shoot him a glare after settling in the driver’s seat. “I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.”

After that, it’s a quick twenty-minute drive from campus to the area of town Pixel Palace—the last standing nickel arcade in Chicago—is located. Kason messes with his phone most of the way, and when I’m not fiddling with the radio to find a decent station, I discreetly check his screen to find him looking at the loser’s profile who never decided to show.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Kason to block the guy and try to salvage the night, but what’s the saying? Not my monkey, not my circus? Regardless, it’s not my place to tell him how to handle the situation. I’m too busy trying to make it better.

When I pull up outside the old school arcade and throw the car in park, Kason finally looks somewhere other than his lap. He stares out the window for a second, not saying anything, before he turns to me with eyes the size of saucers.

“Is that what I think it is?” he asks, the excitement in his tone like that of a child on Christmas morning.

Motioning out the window, I ask, “You mean how I’m saving the night from being a total bust? Yes, it absolutely is.”

We’re out of the vehicle and heading inside a few seconds later, Kason now vibrating with glee beside me. It’s a far cry from the emotions he was giving off a minute ago in the car, and I have the sneaking suspicion that Mr. No Show is nowhere on his mind now.

“Well, I’ll be fucking damned,” he murmurs once we’re inside, standing beneath a sign stating every game costs five cents, leading to a room filled with endless colorful machines all at our disposal.

“How did I not know this place existed?” Kason looks at me, now buzzing with anticipation as he heads to one of the exchange machines. “I thought nickel arcades went extinct before we were born.”

I bite my tongue on correcting him that businesses don’t goextinct,and I also keep quiet about this particular one being purchased by my father when I was in grade school.

As a birthday present.

Kason knowing the wealth of my family hasn’t been high on my priority list. Not because I don’t trust him with that information—after all, his best friend’s dad owns one of the biggest non-country record labels on this side of the Mississippi.

It’s just that the amount of wealth my family has also comes with drawbacks. People wanting a chunk of it being one, of course, which I’ve learned first hand. But it’s the way it seems to alienate me from the rest of the world, creating a deep-seeded sense of distrust, that I hate the most.

The only trouble is, keeping this close to the chest also means omitting details that can sometimes help shape the truth, and I’m getting fucking tired of doing that.

“Earth to Hayes? Did you stroke out from all the pretty lights and machines?”

Shit.

Shaking my head, I try to roll back to the question he asked. “Sorry, what’d you say?”

---