“Alright.” After we were in the casino, I took my responsibility seriously, studying the room filled with row after row of whirring, chirping, and blinking machines. “The problem is that these are rigged in seemingly random ways. If we were playing blackjack, say, I could better predict—”
“You want to use the last of the gas money on blackjack?” His eyes went wide, and I couldn’t tell whether the idea shocked or excited him.
“No! Pretty sure that’s the start of a terrible movie, not to mention a gross betrayal of Professor Tuttle’s trust.”
“Fine. Be reasonable.” He walked up to one of the machines, which proclaimed itself “Super Lucky.” Not surprisingly, it ate Conrad’s first quarter, but he was not dissuaded.
“And there are rules—we’re not playing beyond the quarters you brought in,” I warned him even as he pressed one into my hand.
“You try.”
I was similarly unlucky as him, although he did yield an extra spin on his next try. It didn’t take long for us to burn through most of his quarters, even with a few small wins of extra turns, and a thrilling five-buck win at one point.
“God. I’ve been here all day. Stupid machine.” An older woman with hair so blond it was white slapped at the machine she’d been playing since we came in before moving on.
“That one,” I said decisively to Conrad.
“Really? You’re not thinking it’s a dud?” His head tilted, but he fed it a quarter anyway. Nothing. He held up his one remaining quarter. “Last try?”
“Might as well.” I leaned in, so he could hear me better over the casino noise. “For what it’s worth, I’m okay with hot dogs and popcorn or something else supercheap. Hanging out with you…that’s the fun part.”
“Aww. Offering to eat junk food and a compliment.” He put a hand on his heart. “Tell me I’m the better game player, and this might rank right up there as the most romantic moment of my life.”
“Dork.”
“You love it.”
I did, but I wasn’t telling him that, because loving his antics was perilously close to loving him.
“Logic would say I better not hate it if I want…that.” My lips were close enough to graze his ear and still I couldn’t say the word aloud. “Later.”
“Hot dogs, popcorn, and a proposition? It’s a date.” He grinned at me as he dropped the last quarter in. Ching. Ching. Ching. Ching. The machine chimed like crazy, but no quarters spilled out like the machine had done when we won the five dollars. “Wait. Why is it printing something?”
I reached down for the ticket it spat out next to the coin hopper. “We won a hundred bucks!”
“Yes!” Conrad pumped his fist as he plucked the ticket from my hand. “Winner, winner, steak dinner. Or okay, maybe chicken dinner. But we won! Told you we could do it. And I’m a better date than popcorn, which must mean I’m getting l—”
“Yes. You are.” Cutting him off, I glanced around, but no one was paying us any attention.
“Now, decisions. We could use your blackjack skills to double this or—”
“Or.” I extracted the ticket from him and started heading to the cashier area. “We won. Let’s not press our luck.”
It seemed to be a good motto for the weekend—win, but conservatively. I had him, which was the greatest stroke of luck of all, and I didn’t want the universe thinking I was getting greedy. Him, some food, and hopefully winning my matches at the tournament qualifiers the next day. That was all I wanted.
“Okay.”
After we cashed out the ticket, he cast a last longing glance at the casino floor on the way out, but brightened when we used my phone to find restaurant possibilities nearby. A hundred didn’t get us the swankiest place in town or anything, nor was it enough to add good wine, but it did get us giant portions of meat and pasta at an Italian-themed place with a decent view of the strip, and I was plenty drunk on Conrad’s company.
After dinner, we took a lot of pictures along the strip to send to the professor before we finally headed for the hotel. I didn’t want to know what the per-night lodging fee was on a big convention weekend like this, but the complimentary MOC West tickets had included a room for us to share. Payton had opted to get their own room, while the rest of us had been planning to share the free room. Which meant two beds. Which meant me standing there, staring at them as Conrad set his bags down.
After the relative simplicity of the past two nights, I was stumped. Were we each supposed to claim one? What if he didn’t want to share, and I looked needy for assuming? What if—
“Oh, hey, a spare bed.” Conrad tumbled me onto the closest one, landing squarely on top of me. “When we ruin this set of sheets, we can move to that other one.”