The Rule Book (Rule Breakers #1)(52)
“What’s in the bag?” He jutted his chin to the large sack on the table.
“Tonight’s festivities.” I grabbed the bag and set it on the couch next to him.
As he peered in the tote, his brows furrowed. “Is that a plastic gun?” He put his pinky through the trigger hole and picked it up, examining it.
“Is that a gun?” I scoffed. “It’s only the best gun known to man. The Zapper NES.”
He shook his head, but a smile played at his lips. “You lost me.”
“Have you never played Duck Hunt in your life?”
He just stared at me.
“Did you seriously live under a rock in the nineties?”
“Might as well have,” he muttered, and his smile fell momentarily. It quickly reappeared, though, and he said, “The gun’s part of the game, I assume? My parents believed that video games and television rotted brains, so the most I got was thirty minutes of PBS. Don’t worry, I’ve made up for it since then.” He nodded toward three different gaming consoles nestled in his entertainment system.
“Well, get ready to lose a few brain cells tonight, because we’re having an official Duck Hunt throw down.” I unearthed the Nintendo console from the bag and hooked up the cords to his TV.
“Can I at least pour us some wine?”
“Is that even a question? Wine goes with everything. Including…” I grabbed a bag of gummy worms from the bag and tossed them in Brogan’s lap.
He grimaced at the package and picked it up carefully, like it contained hazardous waste. “Wasn’t there something in our arrangement saying you’re not allowed to poison me?”
“It’s candy, not arsenic.”
He lifted a finger and said, “Ever hear that a clean system is a healthy system?”
Right of course. Mr. Organic wouldn’t eat a gummy worm. “Then mine must look like the inside of a garbage dump. You can’t knock ’em unless you try first.”
He rolled his eyes but opened the package. He squished the worm between his fingers and shuddered, looking like he was going to throw up right there on the spot. “This is just disgusting.”
I put my hands on my hips and gave an exaggerated sigh. “Just try it.”
“Wasn’t peer pressure supposed to end in high school?” he mused, his hand sliding up my thigh, momentarily making me forget what we were talking about. His lips kissed along my neck and goose bumps pebbled my flesh. Something told me I’d never get used to his touch.
He threw the bag of gummy worms to the side and continued working along my collarbone, then lower. “This is a much better alternative to candy,” he said, his hands slipping up my shirt.
If he thought he could get away with distracting me with his mouth and hands, well, he was right. But he wouldn’t win this time. I could muster up some self-restraint. “Did you hear that? I think there’s a chicken in your condo.”
He let out sigh and said, “I take back everything I said about admiring your determination.”
“It’s an endearing quality that you’ll learn to embrace with time.”
“Fine. But for the record, I’m only trying this so you stop giving me those puppy dog eyes. I can’t say no to anything when you give me looks like that.”
“I’ll keep that useful nugget of information tucked away.”
His hand caressed my cheek, and he gave me a smile that set my insides ablaze. “Use those powers for good, okay?” He looked at the candy in his hand and took a tentative bite. His expression went from disgust to revulsion in the span of a few seconds. “This tastes like shit.”
“It tastes like my childhood.” I picked up the bag and shoved a worm in my mouth.
His eyes widened as he watched me chew and swallow the candy. “Well, your childhood should have put you in a hyperglycemic coma by now.”
I couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up, because Brogan freaking out about a gummy worm was the funniest thing I’d seen in at least a week.
“Excuse me, I need to wash the taste of shit down with something.” He moved his laptop from the couch cushion to the end table and disappeared into the kitchen. A couple minutes later, he came back, brandishing two glasses of red wine. He handed me the long-stemmed crystal, and I took a deep sip. This was a far cry from my three dollar beers. My taste buds would be weeping next time I went to a bar.
I placed my glass on a coaster on the coffee table and strode over to the console and turned it on. The good old hunter and dog flashed on the screen, accompanied by the pesky ducks. I hadn’t played this game in years. Ever since the newer gaming systems came out, this one had collected dust under my bed. But when Brogan said he hadn’t indulged in good ol’ nineties technology, I had to share something that was near and dear to my childhood.
After handing Brogan the controller, I instructed him on how the game worked. “Aim it at the ducks. The goal is to kill each one and you move to the next level.”
“Sounds simple enough.” He shrugged and pointed his controller at the television.
I smirked. “Mm-hmm.” Right. Only a novice would say that. Anyone well-versed in the Nintendo-sphere would know that getting each duck took a certain amount of skill and luck, and positioning the controller a quarter inch to the side of the duck because sometimes the screen was a little off with the laser.