Piper stares at me. I hate the expression on her face. She feels bad for me, like I’ve lived through some horrible thing by not having sex.
I didn’t stop dating only because of my mom being sick or whatever, not if I’m being truly honest. I could have chosen to make time for dating, but I retreated instead.
It was just easier to come up with excuses. Sharing my grief with someone else would make me so vulnerable, and I wasn’t ready for that. But sitting with my old friend there in a used bookstore in a city I don’t know, I want to be done retreating.
“Don’t feel bad for me,” I say, then take in a deep breath. “I’m here for a few more weeks until I get my tattoo finished. Find me a date.”
“Yes,” Piper laughs. “Love it. There’s actually a bar I know with, like, daddy types and bears. I can take you as soon as I’m off work.”
I laugh and hold my hands up. “Not quite yet. I’m actually about to spend the afternoon on buses just so I can check out this old arcade.”
Piper claps her hands together lightly. “I love the commitment.”
I shrug. “But yes, Piper. I will let you take me to,” I swallow, “a bear bar.”
Piper laughs loudly. “Splendid!”
It takes me an hour to actually leave the bookstore, Piper and I get so wrapped up in our conversation. As I ride the bus across town, I’m happy, content in a way that I haven’t been in a while. I lost touch with all my college friends after I moved back home, and my high school friends had all moved away, so having someone to laugh with is this amazing release.
My heart hurts for my mom. Things weren’t always easy between us, but I wish I could tell her about Piper. She was always sad that I didn’t have many friends.
But today is different. I’m even feeling excited about going to the bar, although I start squirming in the bus seat when I imagine myself there. Even worse, my annoying brain and even more annoying cock insist that I shouldn’t go looking for anyone else.
Caesar is the only person in the entire city of Chicago that I am interested in.
That can’t actually be true, but the thought of him and the vibration of the bus gives me a painful erection. I can’t stop thinking about his thick bulge, a full package in his denim as he worked me over with his hands and marked my skin.
I didn’t imagine what I saw. It was real, and so was the energy between me and my dad’s old friend. But after the tattoo, Caesar just pushed me away. He would barely even look at me, not even long enough for me to ask just one question about Mack.
He grunted something, turned away, and it was over.
When I get to the arcade an hour and a half later, I find it on a quiet corner, across from a diner and a post office. It’s an older style of arcade, and there aren’t a ton of those left, although like most of the others, this one has added a bar to keep up with the times. There’s a big black motorcycle parked out front alongside a couple of cars, but it looks pretty empty inside, the noise all coming from the whirring, whizzing, beeping machines.
A happy thrill warms me. There’s supposed to be a Speed Demons machine here, a racing game that I’ve wanted to play for years. All the geeky parts of my brain come alive as I glance around, searching for the tall red machine, but then I freeze.
There’s a big man in denim and a black tank, hunched over a pinball machine. He’s got startling silver hair and heavy tattoos, and he curses and grunts as he slams the buttons on the side of the machine.
Holy crap, it’s Caesar.
Caesar is here, and he’s playing a pinball machine.
He’s playing a great pinball machine, actually. Zombie Bikers is an underappreciated classic. He’s made a great choice.
I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, then blink a few times, trying to get ahold of myself. Caesar is right there, and it is ridiculously hot to me that he is leaning over the machine, lost in the game.
He curses and hits the side of the machine, rattling it. The disappointing bells sound out like when you lose, and before I can decide what I’m going to do, Caesar turns, and he looks straight at me.
“Drew,” he says, and all the bells ring around us.
CHAPTERSEVEN
CAESAR
Fucking hell,it’s the kid.
The old arcade is only a couple blocks from my house, and I stop here sometimes to blow some change at pinball. I like the rhythm of the machines and slamming the damn ball all over the place. But I never run into anyone I know here.
“Hi,” Drew says, then waves softly. He’s wearing a baby blue T-shirt and a pair of jeans, more casual than I’ve seen him before. “I’m not stalking you. I just came here to check out a game.”
