I close my laptop, stats forgotten. Hockey problems I can fix with better positioning and smarter plays.This? This needs a different kind of strategy.
The thing about pressure is, it builds until something cracks. And Sloane’s under more pressure than most people could survive.
Vivian breathing down her neck. The Northstar account riding on her shoulders. An entire corporate ecosystem judging her for doing her job too well.
And all the while, we’re pretending like we don’t matter to each other. Like she’s not the first thing I think about every morning.
Last week, when Davies made a crack about me being “too focused on the marketing department,” I wanted to shove him into the glass and explain exactlywhySloane McKenzie matters.
Instead, I laughed it off.
The secrecy is supposed to protect us. But watching her shrink herself to protect me? That’s killing me.
I grab my phone and open Google Maps.
“Arcades near Minneapolis.” Too close. Too risky.
I expand the radius.
The Pixel Palace. Forty minutes out. Family-owned. Looks like it hasn’t been updated since 1985.
Perfect.
I open her contact, thumb hovering.
She’ll want details. She’ll want to plan, to know every variable. That’s exactly what she needs a break from.
Be ready at 7. Wear jeans. No questions.
The dots appear immediately. Disappear. Reappear.
I can picture her staring at her screen, analyzing every angle.
Sloane
Where are we going? I have that Northstar brief to review.
The brief can wait. Trust me.
That’sthe real ask. Not the destination. Not the dress code. I’m asking her tolet go—just for one night.
Sloane
Fine. But if I get murdered, I’m telling my brother it was your fault.
Deal.
I’m smiling for the first time all day.
She said yes.
She’s going to let me take the lead—even if she’s probably already googling “mysterious date locations Minneapolis area” and cross-referencing them with crime statistics.
“An arcade? Seriously, Sullivan?”
Sloane stares at the buzzing neon sign ofThe Pixel Palacethroughmy windshield.
The parking lot’s mostly empty—beat-up sedans, a minivan with faded stick-figure decals.
