Grayson…

I follow her into the arcade, and other than a couple of younger kids playing a basketball game, the place is empty. I pull a twenty out of my wallet and feed it into the token machine; then I divide the tokens equally between us.
    “So, what game do you want to lose first?” I ask.
    “Well, considering you’re going to be the loser, you pick.”
    She’s smart, funny, beautiful, and she’s competitive, too? Is there anything about this girl that isn’t perfect for me?
    “All right. That one.” I point to a motorcycle racing game.
    “That’s not fair. I’ve never driven a motorcycle. You have.”
    “I’ll give you a lesson before we start. Deal?”
    Isabelle narrows her eyes as if trying to figure out if I’m lying or trying to trick her.
    “Okay. Deal.”
    The game is set up so there are two bikes contained within a dome structure. She climbs on one and drops two tokens into the slots to get the game started.
    “Scoot forward.” I motion with my hands for her to move. When she does, I swing my leg over the seat and settle in behind her. These bikes are intended for only one person, so there’s not much room.
    She chooses one player, and the game starts. I place my hands over hers on the handlebars. Her hands are softer than I expected.
    “This button makes you go, and this one makes you stop,” I explain.
    Nodding, she pushes the button to go, and on the screen, the bike lurches. She yelps and slams on the brake button.
    I laugh. “It’s just a game, Belle. Relax.”
    She twists her head to look at me. “I guess just Belle is better than Belle the Bible Thumper.”
    “Then, from now on, you’re just Belle.” I grin.
    Her gaze drops to my mouth, but then she quickly turns her attention back to the game. “All right, so what am I supposed to do on this stupid game?”
    I blow out a breath, but my heart is still racing so hard and fast, I’m convinced she can feel it. “The trick is to find your center of gravity and use it. Sitting upright puts you off balance. Lean forward.” I gently push her forward until she’s in the right position.
    “Good.” I once again cover her hands with mine. “Now, press the go button.”
    She does, and the bike on the screen takes off quickly down the straight road. Ahead, a curve looms. I don’t say anything because I want to see what she’ll do. She cranks the handlebars to the right, and the bike wipes out. I laugh, and she playfully elbows me.
    “What did I do wrong?” she asks.
    “You’re driving like it’s a car. It’s not. You need to use your body.”
    She continues the game, and this time, when she approaches the curve, I move my hands to her waist. I have no business touching her at all, let alone like this, but I can’t deny how nice it feels.
    “Lean into the turn,” I say, guiding her body to the right. “And then straighten.”
    She does exactly as I say, and she maneuvers the turn like a pro. I watch over her shoulder while she continues the race. This close, the scent of her floral perfume wraps around me, and I inhale deeply.
    The race ends, and she comes in sixth place. She straightens, bringing her back flush to my chest. “Good job, just Belle.”
    She gathers her hair and drapes it over her right shoulder then twists her head to the left so we’re face to face. “Thanks for the lesson.”
    “You’re welcome.” My voice cracks, and I momentarily freeze at our proximity. My gaze lingers on her mouth, my thoughts consumed with kissing her. “You’re a fast learner.”
    “Well, you’re a good teacher.” She smiles.
    I feign shock. “Is that a compliment?”
    “Nope.” She laughs.
    “Of course not. Want another practice run?”
    “No, I think I got it.”
    “You sure?” I raise a brow.
    She hesitates and rubs her palms on her jeans, grazing her hand over mine, and I instinctively tighten my grip on her. Her sharp intake of breath sets my heart racing.
    “I got this,” she says.
    “All right. Your loss.” Reluctantly, I get off her bike and climb onto the other one.
    Isabelle scoots back and wiggles on the seat like she’s trying to get comfortable. She’s got a boyfriend. She’s got a boyfriend. She’s got a boyfriend… I focus on getting the game started. She beats me off the starting line, but I quickly and easily pass her. I’m in the zone, hyper focused and determined to win. But then there’s a tap on my rear wheel, and I spin out of control. Isabelle zooms past me.
    I glance over, and she’s giggling like crazy.
    “You’re such a cheater,” I say.
    She laughs harder. A moment later, she crosses the finish line—in first place. She pumps her fists and lets out a victorious whoop. I shake my head, but I can’t stop smiling.
    Even if she did cheat to win, I don’t care. Seeing her like this—face flushed, eyes sparkling, hair a mess, and happy—is so much better than winning any game.