Page 48 of Fraternizing with the Enemy
There were no doors separating the arcade from the main walkway, but the flooring changed from the tile to black-and-white checkered carpet squares. Fluorescent lights illuminated row upon row of ancient-looking games, each one beckoning with their flickering neon signs and loud, almost carnival-like music.
And among all the nerdiness stood Logan.
He leaned against one of the racing games, lookingdown at his sneakers. He wore baggy jeans and a loose, half-buttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His white shirt underneath glowed in the arcade lighting, like a beacon in the empty space.
Casual, much like what he wore on our first date. Back then, I’d been annoyed by the wrinkles in his clothes. This time, my eyes traced them almost happily.This, I decided. This was my favorite look on him.
I watched as his face transformed when he lifted his head. His expression went from steady to lit up in an instant, and he threw his arms wide, just as he had done at Expresso’s last Monday. “There she is!” he called grandly, an easy smile spreading across his lips. It was still dorky, but less embarrassing without an audience. “Amazing, right?”
Logan’s excitement seemed genuine, which totally contradicted my urge to cringe. “That’s one word for it,” I said, slowly inching nearer to gawk at the space behind him. Up close, its flaws were clearer. Most of the games were dusty, and several of them were dark, as if broken. There were a few stretches of the rainbow LED lights that were burnt out, and the checkered carpet had stains here and there. “I had no idea this was up here.”
“Not many people do. It’s perfect, isn’t it?”
Do not scrunch your nose.“Perfect?”
“Old and forgotten. No pressure, no expectations.” Logan gave a little wiggle where he stood. I was becoming more and more convinced he was part Golden Retriever. “You had fun at mini golf, right? Let’s see if this is along the same lines.”
Okay, so even though the arcade was Dork Central, Logan was really cute about it. Thrilled. He swayed in place again, as if his nervousness about my approvalmade it impossible for him to stand still. I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I guess itisa perfect hideout for us.”
And—honestly? Maybe itwasthe perfect spot for our date. The whole point of going out with Logan was to prove to myself that I was above what high school deemed “cool.” Doing something dorky like going to an old arcade? It was like exposure therapy times two.
Logan’s gaze scanned my frame as he stood up from his lean. That was when it happened, hisstunnedlook. As he took me in, I could see his expression shift with it. The blue in his eyes seemed to glow along with the arcade lights, his voice low. “You look—nice.”
I arched an eyebrow. “All you’re saying is that I looknice?” Sure, I wasn’t wearing anything like the dress from our first date, but c’mon.
Now Logan’s smile turned sheepish. “We’ve—we’ve established I’m bad at flirting.”
“When you take a girl on a date, you tell her she looksbeautiful.” To punctuate that, I tilted my head, waiting.
Logan visibly swallowed, which caused the affection to unfurl even more in my chest. “Beautiful,” he echoed, looking down at me. This time, it was his eyes that smiled, not his lips. “You look beautiful.”
Despite the fact that I’d coached him into it, my heart still skipped a beat. “So, I’m assuming you want to play a few of these games, right?”
He cleared his throat, rubbing his hand quickly down the side of his face. “We’ve got options.” He turned and gestured at the sea of games that sat before us. “But I was thinking air hockey could be a good starter?”
I spotted it near the center of the room, with a golden spotlight shining down on the white surface. I was kindof glad that no one wandered up here, because even if I was with someone else and not Logan, I would’ve died if they saw me wielding the air hockey thingy. The Babble post would be mortifying.Cheer Co-Captain Trading Pom-Poms for Quarters?
“I hope you’re ready to lose,” I told Logan, leaning into it.Who’s peaking in high school? Not me.
“Hopeyou’reready to cheat,” Logan threw back, reaching into his pocket for the coins. “Because that’s the only way you’re winning.”
“Oh, no confidence when it comes to flirting, but all the confidence when it comes to games,” I exclaimed in a theatrical voice, finding my place at one end of the machine. “I see how it is.”
He put a few quarters into the machine. “I can let you win,” he said as the game came to life, air puffing out of the holes weakly at first, and then all at once. He picked up the black puck and flipped it between his fingers, eyes meeting mine over the table. “If you say please.”
A thrill raced through me, and it lifted the corners of my lips. “Dream on.”
And, fine. I sucked at air hockey. Logan hit the black puck hard, sending it racing past me far quicker than my eyes could keep up with. It clattered into the goal with an embarrassingly loud buzzer sound. Not even five seconds had passed.
The grin on Logan’s face was almost infectious. “What were you saying?” he asked, tipping his head to the side.
I gripped the air hockey striker tighter, retrieving the puck with my other hand. “You got lucky.”
And then he sank nine more goals. I was a disgrace toair hockey enthusiasts everywhere. My hand-eye coordination was abysmal for someone who had to be on the ball for cheers. I made a total of two goals while he creamed me with ten.
When the air died, and we were left staring at each other as the game pumped out tickets, I was indignant. “Double or nothing?”
When I lost the secondandthird rounds, we moved to the next game—Basketball Shootout.
