Page 11 of Bad Boy
Remi pulls up to a partially dilapidated, free-standing building. The red and blue neon sign reading ‘The Co-Op Arcade’ looks straight out of the eighties. I haven’t been here in a long time, so I hope the inside is better.
Remi puts his bright green Camaro into park, or I should probably sayMr. Keller’s bright green Camaro. Although, I’m sure he’ll offer to buy his grandson whatever he wants if he hasn’t already. Like I said, it’s his thing. It makes him happy, and it’s hard to say no to the kind old man.
“So this is the arcade, huh? Kinda looks like I’m still in my old neighborhood.”
“You had an arcade like this one?” I ask. I’m not sure where he’s from, only that he called it acrappyplace earlier.
“No. I just mean it looks kind of old and. . . possibly vacant. Which reminds me of home. Of Detroit.”
“I didn’t know where you were from. That’s really neat.”
“Neat?”
“Yeah? Cool?”
“No, Preppy. My old neighborhood was an absolute shithole, crawling with scumbags and lowlifes. Nothing neat about that, trust me.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Is he mad at me?
I gaze down at my hands in my lap. I don’t really understand what I said wrong. I was just being polite. This is one of the reasons why I have no friends. I never know what to say or say the wrong thing. Another reason is that my parents don’t let me go to any parties or hang out with anyone from school, and they never have. Not that I even want to anymore.
I was homeschooled by a tutor for elementary, but I went to middle and now high school with these kids, yet I’ve never seen them outside of class. They stopped asking long ago. Now they just like to harass me constantly. Some more than others.
Cool, rough skin grazes the back of my neck and squeezes gently. I slowly turn my head to peer at the boy who’s once again touching me tenderly, like he actually cares.
“There’s nothing to apologize for, Linc. Just explaining that I didn’t come from a good place. We didn’t live on the nice side of town. But don’t worry about it. Hunter Springs is my home now.” He smiles with all his teeth, and it’s so entrancing that I swallow thickly and look away, staring at the run-down arcade I once loved. His hand is still on the nape of my neck, and it feels too good.
“Remi,” I whisper breathlessly. How can I control my reaction when his hands are so strong and skilled? Even if this is so, so embarrassing.
He’s not gay. He just wants to be friends.
I can’t let the fact that I’m awkwardly starved for attention and touch ruin my chance at this friendship just because I’m reading more into his charismatic personality than I should.
I lean forward, pulling away from his commanding grasp. “Ready?” I ask, peeking over at him from the corner of my eye. “Sorry it’s so crappy lookin’, but we should at least check out the inside since we’re here. Right?”
“Linc. Dude, stop apologizing for shit. I bet it’s awesome inside. Let’s go.” And then he’s climbing out of the driver's side, and I’m scrambling after him.
When Remi pushes the heavy metal door in, he holds it open with one arm, allowing me to slip through first. I brush against his hard body and once again have to tell myself we’re just two new friends hanging out. Getting to know each other. This is definitelynota date. And he is definitelynotgay.
The entire arcade is exactly as I remembered it. The dark interior is highlighted by colorful neon strip lights lining the perimeter of the floor and ceiling and an old black carpet with glow-in-the-dark planets and stars dotting it. Two bowling lanes are tucked into the left corner, and the rest of the space is filled with every arcade game imaginable, from Pac-Man to Skee-Ball. There’s a small seating area in front of a counter where you can order basic food like pizza and hot dogs. All in all, it’s pretty nice compared to how the run-down outside looks.
“Oh. Nice, Preppy. No one’s even here. We have the place to ourselves.”
I can’t help the smile pulling at my lips. “We do.” My eyes scan the room, searching for what I want to play first. “Air hockey?”
“Fuck, yeah. I bet you twenty bucks I’ll whoop your ass.”
“Um. Pass. You’re probably right.”
Remi tilts his head back, belting out a loud laugh, causing the little old lady behind the counter to glance our way. I give her a small wave and a hesitant smile. Hopefully, she’s happy to have some customers. I’m surprised they’ve stayed in business so long.
“Let’s get some coins,” Remi declares, striding confidently over to the booth.
“Good afternoon, ma’am. Can I get forty dollars in tokens, please?” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a leather wallet attached to a shiny silver chain hooked to his front belt loop. He slips two twenties from it, sees me watching, and winks.
“I can buy my own tokens,” I mutter shyly, peering down at my feet. This whole situation keeps feeling more and more like a date, though I have nothing for comparison. Again, no one likes me.
