Page 37 of Fair Catch

Thankfully Kason doesn’t seem perturbed when he asks me again how he didn’t know Pixel Palace existed, instead being too busy loading up his pockets with what must be twenty bucks worth of nickels.

“Because it’s one of Chicago’s best kept secrets, obviously,” I tell him, and it’s notexactlya lie. Just a small withholding of all the information.

Arching a brow, he asks, “Then how doyouknow about it?”

“Quinton and I would come here a lot as kids. The first time, our father’s had brought us. They’d come here a lot when they were younger, and it was something sort of passed down to the two of us.” Glancing around, I’m brought back to some of the moments I’ve spent here as a kid, and I can’t help reminiscing. “We grew up with plenty of money, so it’s not like we couldn’t go to the fancier arcades with the 3D rides and go-karts and whatever else, but this place had been shared through our families for a long time. Back when nickels held more value than they do now.”

A small smile pulls his lips up. “It’s cool that you kept coming back instead of going to the big mega arcades. Help keep a small business afloat, you know?”

Fuck. This is it. Now or never.

“My dad actually bought it when I was in elementary school. It was going out of business because of all the big, fancy places, and he couldn’t let it happen.” Dropping my gaze to the floor, I add, “And while it was technically my birthday present, I think it was just as much for him too.”

“Your dad bought you an entire arcade for your birthday?” Kason repeats, and when I finally grow a set to look him in the eyes, I find them widened in shock.

I hesitate for only a moment before murmuring, “He sure did.”

“And it’s still in your family even now that you’re an adult.”

Gnawing on my lower lip, I nod in confirmation.

Somehow, he keeps slicing off little pieces of me without even trying. Parts I usually do my best to keep hidden, I find myself freely giving him, and I don’t entirely know why.

But I still feel far more self-conscious than I have in a very long time as he gapes at me, and I don’t fucking like it. Maybe because I’m waiting for him to judge me or crack some kind of joke about me giving him his money back for all the nickels he just exchanged.

Instead, he shakes his head and lets out a little laugh.

“Wow. I didn’t take you for the sentimental type.” His eyes narrow on me in mock suspicion. “What other secrets are you keeping from me, Bruce Wayne?”

Relaxing, I let out a little laugh. “If I’m anyone, it’s Tony Stark. Minus the playboy status.”

He’s quiet for a minute before nodding in agreement. “That does fit better, yeah. I think the real question isn’t which rich super hero you are, but how many people have you brought here to cheer up after they’ve been stood up on a date?”

Snorting softly, I shake my head. “You’d be the first person I’ve brought since I was a kid, actually. Besides Quinton, I mean.” When I glance over at him, I find him staring at me in awe or something. It’s unsettling, and I try to brush it off. “Just don’t go telling other people about it, okay? It’s called a local’s only spot for a reason, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“As if I’d risk you banning me from the establishment if I were to spill the beans? Nuh, uh. My lips are sealed.” He even does the stupid thing where he pretends to lock his lips and throw away the key.

Unfortunately, the motion draws my attention to his mouth, where it remains for a few moments. Not long enough to be creepy, but long enough to take in the subtle bow of the upper and fullness of the lower.

Realizing how weird it is to notice that kinda thing, I lift my gaze back up, only to find his cheeks tinted pink.

Shit, he must’ve caught me staring.

I clear my throat and motion around the arcade. “So where do you wanna start?”

A hellish grin takes over his face. “You mean what game am I gonna be railing your ass in?”

“Poor choice of words there, Kase,” I tell him, holding out my arms to the nearly abandoned arcade. “We both know I’m the one who’ll be doing all the railing. Especially when it comes to any game here.”

Kason’s face becomes a deeper shade of pink than before, and it makes me smirk. Despite us making nice as of late, I really enjoy getting under his skin in other ways. As it turns out, getting Kason to blush is a lot more fun than throwing sarcastic digs ever was.

“Skeeball is my game,” he tells me, an air of confidence in his voice. “There’s no way in hell you’re beating me.”

It takes all my willpower to keep from laughing as I gesture in the direction of the machines in question. After all, I’m pretty sure I’m still the one with the reigning high score on every single skeeball machine here.

Leading the way, I call over my shoulder, “If you say so. Just know that I’m pretty good about getting it in the hole.”

He breaks out in a coughing fit that sounds like he’s been smoking eight packs a day since he was ten, and it goes on for so long, I’m starting to get concerned.

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