Page 7 of The Last Special Thing

“I’m going to sit this one out,” Madisson announced to no one in particular and curled up on the recliner.

“We’ll trade off the next time,” Amelia promised Madisson. Madisson waved her off, unbothered.

As Art lowered next to Amelia, her heart jumped.

“Ready to play?” he asked, handing her a controller.

She willed her voice to hold steady. “I’m ready.”

His top lip lifted to say more as their knuckles brushed.

“Art, you’re first player. You have to pick the course, man,” Max cut in, spoiling another moment. She could kill him.

As Art turned his attention to the courses, Amelia wiggled her fingers and then clenched the controller.

When all the characters had been populated onto the video game battlefield, she found her rhythm. As her fingers flicked between the face and shoulder buttons, Yoshi dominated the game.

“Wow,” Art said after Amelia landed a combo that sent him flying off the edge of the stage to his virtual death.

“Pretty good for a girl?” Her eyes were trained on the game, but as he shifted beside her, his shoe tapped into hers, and her chest warmed. Neither moved.

“Wasn’t going to say that,” he chuckled.

The group rotated, taking turns sitting out for the next hour. They laughed and trash-talked until the sun set.

“We should go,” Weston said after another loss.

Amelia bit her lip but nodded. She opened the space between her shoe and Art’s and pushed herself up from the floor.

She looked down at him and smiled. He returned it, but remained glued to the carpet.

It wasn’t until Weston and Amelia had reached the front door that he found his voice. “Wait.”

As he stood, hope swelled in her chest.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Art asked her.

Weston raised an eyebrow.

“Meet you at the car,” she dismissed him with a soft smile.

Once they were outside, Art pushed his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts. “Are you with that guy?” He nodded toward where Weston had disappeared around the corner.

“No.” It was true, and for the first time, it felt good to say.

He stood straighter at her response. “I’d like to see you again.”

“I’m Madisson’s best friend. You’ll see me again.” While the words were nonchalant, her heart beat quickened.

“Can I get your number? You know, in case of an emergency.”

She held out her hand. He handed her a phone with a crack running down the middle.

She input her number and her name as “Amelia ICE.”

He squinted. “ICE?”

“In Case of Emergency,” she explained, then caveated. “Although, hopefully, no one finds you passed out somewhere and thinks I’d be the one to help.”