Page 99 of Heart Over Heels

The balloon inflated even further—round and trembling.

The machine spat out three tickets.

“Absolutelynot.”I threw my hands up. “This game is rigged. I know sabotage when I see it.”

I swiped my card again, only for the reader to flash INSUFFICIENT BALANCE in bright red.

I glared at it. Betrayal of the highest order.

I spun on my heel toward the bowling alley, scanning for Zephyr and his entourage.

“Where’s Becky? I need a refill.” I took one step before Mercer caught my wrist and lifted his own unused game card into view.

“You can have mine,” he offered.

I stopped, and the noise of the arcade faded.

It wasn’t gone, just distant, like I’d stepped underwater.

My gaze drifted past Mercer to the prize room and the neon-pink lava lamp bubbling away. The sense of want—needy,greedy—gnawed at me. Then I looked down at the maxed-out card in my hand. My fingers tightened around the plastic, and I shook my head.

“No. Use it for a game you want to play.” Stooping, I ripped off my string of tickets and folded them neatly before stashing them. I wasn’t sure my outfit was quite right for baby’s first casino, but at least it had pockets.

When I faced Mercer again, he was wearing a gentle look that reminded me of how he kissed. My gaze dropped to his mouth, and I caught myself desiring something far better than an arcade prize.

“What gamesdoyou like to play?” I asked him, desperate to keep the conversation on track. The kinds of things I wanted to do to him were not fit for the eyes of minors.

“Um…” He looked around. “I don’t recognize a lot of these, but I used to do some of the racing ones.”

Pocketing my game card, I took his hand. “Show me.”

We drifted through the room, past the basketball hoops, the joystick games, and the coin pushers stacked with rolls of quarters and gold dollars. I kept pace beside Mercer, my shoulder brushing his arm every few steps like we were tethered.

We rounded a corner and practically stumbled onto side-by-side motorcycle racing machines, each bike molded in gleaming plastic. They weren’t big sturdy cruisers like Mercer’s Victory. These were sleek, sharp-nosed little beasts with low seats and an aggressive forward lean.

Mercer tapped the nearest one. “Hop on.”

Grateful to have shorts rather than a skirt to manage, I swung a leg over and settled in. Mercer swiped his card on bothmachines before taking his place beside me. Together, we faced the massive screen as it flickered to life with the game logo—massive chrome letters over flapping black-and-white checkered flags.

“Have you ever driven a motorcycle?” he asked.

I threw him a wink. “No, but I’m an expert at riding.”

He blushed, and I was winning before we even started the race.

While the game loaded, Mercer tested his grip on the handlebars and got his feet set. His right leg was nearest me, and I paid more attention to it now, noticing the way he moved and balanced his weight.

The menu populated, and Mercer navigated it while reading the options aloud.

“We’ve got Desert Sprint, Alpine Dash, Downtown Rush, and uh, Neon Overdrive.”

“Neon Overdrive,” I said immediately.

Next menu: bike customization.

I dressed mine in magenta with an iridescent finish and white flames while Mercer picked hunter green with black pinstriping.

Once everything was set, the countdown clock appeared.