Game On(34)

“Trust me,” he said when we walked in.

I just stared at him, my heart sinking. I had gotten two more emails from my editor-in-chief asking for an update, making that a total of three emails I had ignored from him. I felt guilty, but before walking into the arcade, I had felt confident that I would be able to get something tonight that I could send them tomorrow. Now I wasn’t so sure.

If this had been a date, or a night out with friends, I would have been in heaven. There was something so comforting about the atmosphere around us, of kids feeding quarters into machines, all hoping to win the piles of prizes behind the counter—stuffed animals, MP3 players, and other things that were probably cheaper if they were straight-up bought in a store, but way less satisfying than if they were won at the arcade.

There had been an arcade next to my mom’s favorite bar, so I knew the environment well. It felt familiar. Safe. Quarters were something she could give me, so every time she wanted to have a night out, she’d give me a bag of quarters and send me to the arcade until it was closing time. For months I had my eye on a big pink stuffed unicorn. I didn’t have many toys and that stuffed animal seemed like the most magical, beautiful thing I had ever seen. The idea of owning it seemed impossible, but also within my reach if I worked hard enough. And that’s what I did. Every single time I went there I played to win the unicorn. While the other kids cashed in their tickets for smaller, more quickly satisfying trinkets, I kept my tickets in a bag underneath my bed. 1,000 tickets. That’s what the unicorn cost. It took me six months, but I got it. And it was still in my bedroom back in my mom’s apartment in Houston. She was allowed to get rid of anything else I owned, but she knew that she couldn’t touch that unicorn.

“Let’s make a bet,” Nathan said to me, shaking me out of my memories.

“A bet?”

“Yeah, a bet.” There was that wicked smile again. “If you win, you get something you want, and if I win…”

“I just want this interview to go well,” I interrupted before he could tell me what he wanted. I knew what he wanted. Because I wanted it too. And that was a bad idea.

“I already promised I’d be honest with you,” he said.

I gave him a dubious look and he held up his hands.

“OK, OK, I also promised a place that was better than the bar. But trust me, let’s spend an hour or so here and then go somewhere quieter. I’ll be much more relaxed.” He lifted his pinky. “Pinky swear.”

I hooked my pinky with his, hoping this swear was worth something to him.

“One hour,” I told him.

“Two,” he countered.

“One,” I stood firm.

“Fine,” he said, looking around at the machines. “Pick something you want to wager.”

“I already told you what I want.”

“You’ll get your interview. Something else.”

“I don’t want anything else,” I told him. Which was sort of true. I didn’t want anything that was possible in our current situation.

“Liar,” Nathan said, looking over his shoulder at me. “I saw your suitcase.”

“My suitcase?” For a moment I was confused.

“In your hotel room,” he explained. Oh, my stupid broken suitcase. I felt my face heat at the memory of it. Bet that someone like Nathan never had to worry about his suitcase completely breaking apart in the lobby of a fancy hotel. Bet he never had to worry about his suitcases at all. Just another reminder of what everyone else had and I didn’t. “Looks like you could use a replacement,” he said.

“And you’ll get me one?” I asked.

He wagged his finger at me. “If you win.” When I hesitated, he gave me a smile. “I’ll even let you pick the game.”

Clearly he had plans for this bet. Too bad he didn’t know that when it came to arcade games, I was not one to admit defeat. Too many of my nights had been spent among these brightly colored, bell-ringing games.

“And what do you want, Mr. Ryder?” Even though I was confident in my abilities, I needed to know what kind of bet I was getting myself into. Skee-ball was my game of choice, but I hadn’t played in years. Still, I was sure I would make a pretty decent opponent. But I didn’t want to make any promises I couldn’t keep.

“Hmm.” He placed a finger against his cheek. “Perhaps I just want a favor.”

“A favor?” My eyebrows went up. “What kind of favor?”

“One to be determined at a later time,” he said. Clearly he was confident he was going to win. I wasn’t surprised. Nathan Ryder didn’t strike me as someone who was used to losing.

I shook my head. “That sounds awfully vague. Not a fair trade at all.”

“I promise it won’t be more complicated than a replacement suitcase,” he told me.

I wasn’t sure I believed him, but the way he smiled at me made it hard to resist. Everything about him made him hard to resist. And I never backed down from a challenge. Especially one set in an arcade. Nathan didn’t realize it, but he had just made a very foolish bet.

“Deal,” I said, holding out my hand.

He smiled and took it. His fingers were warm and soft, not really what I expected from a ballplayer. There were calluses there, of course, but they felt well worn, not sharp and rough against my skin. I did my best not to imagine them on other parts of my body. We exchanged a firm shake.