“No date, no dick.” I’m showing all my cards, stepping through brave and going right to stupid. It could very easily push this woman the wrong way, but something deep in the center of my chest tells me I need more from her than just a good romp between the sheets.
From the way her brow and nose wrinkles, she doesn’t seem as convinced as I am. Not by a long shot.
She hisses air through her teeth, her assessing gaze weighing heavily on my face. “Twenty questions. Then I’ll decide about the date…and the dick.”
I do a gleeful dance that ends in a mid-air heel click. The resulting eye roll is a thing of beauty. She looks around, presumably to see if anyone’s watching my dorky, semi-public outburst.
“Person, place, or thing?”
She rolls her pouty pink lips before tapping a finger on her chin. “Thing.”
I have about sixty minutes, and nineteen questions to make this woman agree to come on a date with me. Convincing her she loves me and we’re destined to be together is going to take a little longer.
That’s okay.
I’ll believe in it enough until she’s ready to accept that love at first sight is a thing and can happen in real life. In the meantime, I’ll write songs about her auburn curls and jade eyes and hope she doesn’t shank me with a filed-down toothbrush she has hidden under her bright orange jumpsuit.
CHAPTER 3
Victoria
I’ve never seen someone so skilled at playing Pac-Man.
Like, ever.
Wonder if he’s this good at Ms. Pac-Man. Guess we’ll see, she’s here too.
I can’t say I have much experience with video games at all to be honest, but this guy—this “Loki”—he’s kickin’ ass and taking names.
He’s also happy as hell about it. I can’t recall being around someone who radiates joy from every pore like this dude does.
He’s just so fucking happy, about everything. About food, about video games, about being temporarily incarcerated in a fake prison for charity, but most of all about me saying yes to one date with him.
Golden retriever energy. That’s him to a T.
It’s like I’ve just offered to throw a tennis ball for him for a whole hour.
If he started doing zoomies or chasing his tail in circles around the room I wouldn’t be surprised. His energy is boundless, his joy is contagious, and if someone’s smile could channel sunshine, I’d say that’s what happens when Lokismiles. Warmth prickles over my skin like I’ve stepped outside on a summer’s day.
We’ve been here at the Quarter Barrel Arcade for over an hour. It’s still early, but the more time I spend with Loki, the more his glow thaws the icicle dangling in my chest.
Ugh. I need to walk away.
I don’t want another relationship. I don't want to like anyone else, let alone date. Or god forbid, anything more. I don’t have time for another broken heart.
So I just shut it the fuck down instead.
Can’t hurt if you don’t feel.
But every time I’m determined to step toward the exit, Loki says or does something to draw me in even more. He’s adorably endearing. And the urge to scratch behind his ear makes my fingers tingle.
He’s beaten me at Karate Champ and Pole Position. Repeatedly. I thought for sure I had him on that last lap of our last race, or he’d take pity on my loser ass and let me win, just one time, but he only pushed harder and topped my score even worse.
The fact that he doesn’t back down, that he’s so competitive, so driven, so intent on coming first that he won’t relent even for a woman he’s trying to get into bed, appeals to me for some reason.
There’s nothing fake with him. There’s also no malice either. When it looked like I might win, he didn’t sabotage me. In fact, he even cheered like I was in the finals of the Olympics while he pushed himself harder.
I regret agreeing to this date already.
