You're to Blame(40)

I cover my throat at his honesty, in hopes to stifle the yelp dying to release. “I will admit to no such thing, and thank you. It’s my perfume.”

“Okay, fine, but let the record show, I already know you think about me when you’re lying in bed at night.” Duke smirks over at me. “When you first crawl in, the room is dark, so there’s no guilt about your thoughts. Maybe you take your small hand and run it down your stomach, teasing the waistband of your panties with the tips of your fingers until all five of them are hidden from sight, but you can feel them.” He releases a guttural moan. “Oh, you can feel them, and then one slips between, rubbing that spot you know is there, but no one’s ever found. Yet.”

I smack him across the chest, jostling him from his provocative day dream. “Knock it off.” Please don’t stop. “Now, where are we going?” It takes everything in my being to stop myself from thinking about the miserable ache dying to be rubbed out.

He glances at me, his eyes smoldering as they catch my knees rubbing together to ease some of the pain his words cause. “Where else do you go when you want to escape?”

“Who said I needed an escape?” In reality, I need exactly that. Something to clear my mind and ease my achy heart is on the menu with Duke.

“A girl has never called me in the middle of the day except for two things.” He laughs. “A quickie or an escape. Since you aren’t the quickie kind of girl, I’d say it’s safe to say you could use a good laugh.”

*****

“Just so we’re clear, I look ridiculous.” I model the plastic vest strapped across my body. Heat flames my cheeks.

“Okay!” The arcade attendant presses a button on my vest. “It’s you two versus them. Think you can handle that?”

Duke makes faces at the two kids beside us. They both grimace and stick their tongues out.

“Well, since they’re ten, I’d say we can handle it.” Duke sticks his tongue out, and I sputter out a laugh. This playful, child-like side of him is endearing and hard to come by.

For an hour, Duke dives dramatically from obstacle to obstacle, shooting wildly without any regard for a target. I do my best to keep up through all the hilarity. I haven’t had this much fun in, I don’t know how long, but I don’t want it to stop. I could live in moments like this forever.

“Cover my back,” I yell. We scurry across the course, darting behind one of the larger walls. The room is pitch black with occasional various colored laser beams, set on a timer to enhance the experience.

“You having fun?” Duke’s out of breath. His chest rises and falls, and he gasps for air between his words and laughter.

“A day to forget is what I needed.” I kneel in front of him.

“What are you trying to forget, Charlotte?”

What am I trying to forget? Everything.

“Have you ever had a weight sitting on your chest?” I sit and rest my head against the felt wall.

“All the time.” Duke leans forward, propping his forearms on his knees. “I have a pretty shitty situation with my parents. It’s the one consistent thing in my life. Disappointing them is my normal.”

“I’m almost positive I caused Jacob’s accident,” I unload. “We got into an argument that night, and he stormed out.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Duke consoles me.

“Sometimes you don’t need the details to shoulder the burden of blame.” I stand and finish our game. I catch Duke watching me. A worried expression taints his face until the lights brighten. He cares, but is it me he cares about?

“Times up,” Duke hollers over one of the barriers. “We won.”

“We’re ten, dude,” one of the kids says, passing by Duke.

I break out in a merciless laugh, biting down on my bottom lip to stifle my amusement. “Sorry, I can’t stop laughing.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Duke heads towards the exit, where a worker waits to take our vests.

“What now?” I ask, hoping to not let the day end quite yet. “Want to see if those boys want you to kick their ass in some bowling?”

“No, but we could bowl, though.” Duke walks to the double doors leading to the alley.

“You think you can out bowl me?” I raise an eyebrow and grin, waltzing by and adding an extra sway to my hips. He’s behind me. I’m certain his eyes are on my ass, and not an ounce of me feels guilty. Something about that both scares and thrills me.

Since Duke paid for laser tag, I scurry to the front desk to cover a game of bowling and two pairs of shoes.

“What size are you?” He reaches for his pocket, but I wave him off. “What size shoe are you?”

“Twelve, please.” Duke speaks directly to the attendant.

Our shoes are a strange comparison of his large to my small. Large feet, check. Large hands, check. Large... my eyes scan down to his pants. Jury still out.

We type our names on the screen, and of course, I demand mine be first. Duke doesn’t protest, only laughs as I attempt to find the perfect ball, set up my shot, and roll my ball down the lane.

Eight pins fall, but I split the others, leaving them as far away from each other as possible.

“Good luck with that,” Duke whispers in my ear. Over my shoulder, he smiles the sexiest smirk, and I’m immediately uncomfortable from the easy attraction, which hasn’t died down. A part of me, the hopeful part, assumed it would. In no world are Duke and I meant to be something, but along the way, we’ve shifted and tilted into the something we aren’t allowed to be.