Page 63 of The Confidentiality Clause
Brock Jones
I maneuver into a parking space in front of Throwback, the arcade bar I had the idea to take Ariel to. If I know Ariel–and I do–competing is going to make her forget about her dating life. She needs to have fun and get out of her head. After a few games and some trash talk, she’ll be good as new, and her night will end on a high note.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Again. I’m going to have to stay up until tomorrow to get work done, but seeing Ariel smile as she realizes where we are makes it worth it. I’ve not been the greatest friend the last few weeks. This is the least I can do.
“An arcade?” She smiles as we get out of my car.
“I figured your night couldn’t get any worse, so you might as well add losing to me to the agenda.”
She rolls her eyes. “You know I’m going to wipe the floor with you, right?”
I grin as I open the door for her. “I know you think that.”
As soon as we walk in, a blast of icy air hits us. Ariel visibly shivers and wraps her arms around herself.
“I did not dress for the arctic,” she says with a laugh.
No, no she did not. When I first saw her tonight in this tiny black dress…I had to grip the bar to keep from pushing her into a dark corner of the restaurant and kissing her senseless. Then when she came out of the restaurant with fire in her eyes, the same feeling hit me like I just got checked on the ice.
“Here, you can take this, I was getting too warm anyway.” I slide off my suit jacket and drape it over her shoulders.
She looks up at me with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
No snarky remark, no nickname, just pure sweetness radiating off of her.
A new, softer feeling sweeps over me as I say, “No problem,” and we head toward the machine to get tokens. It’s the kind of feeling that has me glaring at every guy whose head turns as she passes. The kind that makes me stand a little too close while I put in cash so that people think we’re together. The kind that makes me want to protect her. As if I have the right to want that.
But Ariel doesn’t seem to mind. She lets me crowd her at the machine, even going so far as to lean against me. “My heels are bothering me,” she murmurs, but I don’t know if I believe her.
“What do you want to play first?” I ask after getting our hundred dollars’ worth of coins. The bucket is heavy in my hand, but with how expensive these places have become, I’m sure it’ll lighten fast.
“How about air hockey?” she suggests.
“So you want to go ahead and get the losses out of the way first, totally understand. Right this way.” I dramatically sweep an arm in the direction of the table.
She shoves it away. “You’re obnoxious.”
“And yet, you’re here.”
“I was abducted, remember?” she says with a smile as we take our places on opposite ends of the table.
“Oh now you can change definitions. As long as when you lose you don’t change that to mean win.”
I slide a few coins in. The table whirs to life. Ariel drops the puck on the table and covers it with the mallet to keep it from sliding away. She’s slipped her arms into my jacket. The sight throws me off a little, making me slower to react when she hits the puck without warning.
“Were you going to say something about starting, or do you like cheating?” I ask as we begin hitting it back and forth.
She smirks. “Table is on. Puck is on. What more do you need? A buzzer?”
“Funny.”
We keep going until I finally slap one in.
“Boom! The first of many.”
Ariel slides the puck over to me with narrowed eyes. “More like the only one.”
The game is more neck-and-neck than it should be. I don’t think Ariel is better than me, but she’s also not the only one who was distracted tonight. Between her dress, my jacket, and the competitive look in her eye, I’m fumbling.
