Page 13 of How Not to Date a Griffin

He let the thought dissipate and lined up what he thought was a perfect shot into Reid’s goal box.

But Reid slid the pusher into the puck, blocking it just as it neared the goal and sent it reeling back toward him.

Concentration took focus as they went back and forth a few times.

“Can’t keep this up forever, Nolan,” Reid called out.

Nolan wasn’t thinking when he said, “I don’t know, my longevity might surprise you!”

Nolan’s puck clanged into the goal box, and he laughed with delight as the score changed to tie them. When he glanced across the table to his opponent, Reid seemed to shake himself, blushing as he retrieved the puck.

Gosh, it felt nice to be the cause of those pink cheeks, even if unintentionally.

When he replayed his words in his head, he realized it did sound rather suggestive, but chose to move on before he made the moment any more awkward.

“Oh, you’re in trouble now,” Reid promised, and before Nolan could move his pusher to block, he sunk the puck without pause.

When Nolan glanced over at Reid, he was met with a smug, sly curl of lips, and the promise of more to come.

“It appears so,” he murmured, and began their next round.

Reid sunk another, and then another, and Nolan laughed hopelessly. He didn’t even care that he was losing, because Reid positively glowed with delight whenever he scored a point.

So maybe it felt a little like he was winning anyway, even if the difference in their scores kept rising.

Nolan scored a point, and then Reid scored two more, securing the win with an excited fist pump. Grinning, Nolan picked up his drink as Reid joined him on his side of the table, and then they took the empty places left at the Frogger station.

The old school graphics were just the right touch of nostalgia he didn’t know he’d needed.

He didn’t get very far the first time, and Reid chuckled beside him.

“To be fair, I forgot you could move left and right,” Nolan admitted, laughing with him.

Reacquainting himself with the buttons and the movements of the console took a moment, but by the time his third game queued up, he was more confident.

“You’ve got this one,” Reid encouraged.

They drank and they laughed – god, Nolan hadn’t laughed this much in forever – and Nolan got his frog across the street, then across the pixelated river. They cheered, and they hogged the Frogger game, but they didn’t care.

At one point, Reid retrieved them more drinks, and they moved on to play some of the other games.

Nolan was shit at Skee-Ball, and Reid was the first to let him know. He laughed so hard his side hurt, and once they were done with their second drinks, they’d made it through their tokens. They traded their tickets for drink tokens and two Twizzlers, then redeemed their drinks at the bar and sat, watching the rest of the patrons groan and shout over the games.

Reid bit into his Twizzler and winced.

“Stale?” Nolan guessed.

“So stale,” he groaned, and sat the rest of it, wrapping still intact, beside his drink on the bar.

Nolan lifted his and watched the light reflect off the plastic. “I might keep mine. Frame it. That was an impressive game of Frogger. I think that’s where I won the most tickets.”

“You got to put your initials on the scoreboard, of course it was impressive,” Reid said, and clapped him on the shoulder.

“And to show for it… this Twizzler,” Nolan announced, and held it up balanced over both his palms.

“A twenty-dollar Twizzler, right there.”

Nolan’s lips twitched. “Well, when you put it that way…”