Come on, Conrad. Attack. I tried to order him into action with my eyes. But he didn’t, leaving himself wide open to whatever I wanted to do next.
“Guess I got a bad hand,” he said, stretching. He was lying. I might not be the best at reading people in general, but I knew him by now, knew how distant and deceptively casual his voice got when he lied, how he refused to make eye contact, and how he fiddled with his cards when he was nervous. I wasn’t sure what he had to be nervous about right then, but I was disgusted enough at the lie to finish him off with a single attack.
“Good game.” He reached across the table to shake my hand, a brief electric sizzle racing up my arm. “That was practically a mercy killing. I just didn’t have enough firepower.”
I didn’t believe that for even a second, but I wasn’t about to call him on throwing the game with the owner right there.
“I didn’t have all afternoon,” I snapped instead, my frustration getting the better of me. My irritation continued to mount as we had to suffer the analysis of the owner and a few rambling stories about meeting Professor Tuttle at another convention. Finally, though, we were free.
“You want tacos for lunch?” As we finished putting the stuff in the car, Conrad gestured toward the place at the other end of the parking lot. “At least it’s right here, no need to go find something else, and it doesn’t look like some sort of fusion cuisine, so maybe it won’t drive you too crazy.”
“Unlike you,” I muttered under my breath, but apparently not quietly enough because he grabbed my arm.
“Hey. What’s your problem? You won. I made sure—”
“I know. You think I wanted you to throw the game just to keep me happy?” I slammed the trunk harder than Black Jack deserved.
“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds bad.”
“Because it is.”
“I just didn’t want to ruin things,” he mumbled, studying his scuffed sneakers, kicking a stray pebble on the asphalt.
“Me either,” I admitted, leaning against the car. “I kept holding back my best stuff too. It was the most miserable game I’ve played.”
“Other couples manage it. I see them all the time at the game store, waxing each other and talking trash and then going off to do that thing you don’t want me talking about in public.”
“We’re a couple?” I squawked, both delighted and appalled. After our talk at the lake yesterday, I’d assumed I’d be lucky if Mr. Let’s-Not-Define-This was up for a series of repeats, let alone any sort of public acknowledgment. Couple sounded pretty close to definition to me.
“Unless you wanted to be a hookup or a one-night stand. Which I was under the impression that you did not.” Conrad, King of Swagger, actually managed to look unsure of himself, which made the truth that much easier to spill.
“I don’t want to be a hookup. Thought I was clear about that.” On that much at least I was clear. I might not get all of what I wanted, but I knew that I wanted as much as he was willing to give me. “But I’ve never…”
“I know.” His smile seemed to have recovered some of his ordinary easiness, and he headed in the direction of the taco place, leaving me scrambling to catch up, as usual. “Me either, really. And I’m sure that you’re going to tell me there are rules and expectations—”
“Aren’t there?”
“Oh, I’m sure.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “But maybe we can just keep winging it? Figure out the rules as we go.”
“I’m not good at spontaneity.”
“No kidding.” Pulling me behind a large cement pillar, he gave me a fast kiss on the cheek. “How about you try? And start with forgiving me for the crappy game.”
“I can’t stay mad at you,” I admitted, which earned me another quick kiss. “Just don’t do that again. You could have won. I’d still want to…you know.”
“I know. That-which-we-do-not-name. But that which we are damn good at. Better than gaming at least.” Laughing, he waggled his eyebrows at me. “Maybe eventually we’ll figure out how to play like normal.”
Eventually. Normal. Two loaded words that conjured up a vision of a future where we were a couple, a real one, not just as shorthand for not-a-hookup, but a real one with a future filled with games and an endless stream of nights. A couple that had a normal to fall back on. And, man, I wanted that future more than I’d ever wanted anything, and that scared me, making me shiver despite the desert heat, and wonder what the heck I’d gotten myself into.
* * *
I remained off-kilter through our taco lunch, alternating between freaked out and happy beyond belief. Happy won out temporarily when we shared some spicy kisses in the car parked behind the gas station where we’d filled Black Jack’s always-almost-empty tank. With that fill-up, we were over halfway through the gas money, but I didn’t want to point that out to Conrad and add to his monetary stress.