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Twenty-Two
Graham
The last thingI wanted was to give up on Luna. I’d take another three years of probation, or even jail time, if it meant seeing her again.
I was that hooked on her.
But if she wasn’t interested in hearing it, I didn’t see a lot of options.
For the fourth night in a row, Cole and I were sitting in my living room, making idle chatter, and pretending there wasn’t a Luna-sized crater in the room.
“I’m curious about something,” Cole said.
I didn’t know what to make of his tone. “What’s that?”
He nodded to the shelves under my TV. “Is that an original PS2?”
“It is.” All of my systems were originals, but that was the one I’d played most recently so the others were tucked away.
“Favorite game?”
That was like asking a parent who their favorite child was. “There are too many to list. Last thing I played was a cart racer, and I played the fuck out of it.” Which was why it was the last thing I’d played.
“A racing guy, huh?” Competition sneaked into Cole’s reply. “Wanna load up a game.”
I’d love to. “We can’t play anything on it.”
Cole’s expression barely shifted, but something told me that was disbelief staring at me. “You’re not going to tell me it’s because that’s an antique and you don’t touch it?” He asked.
“Saving that answer for next time.” I laughed. “But now, it’s the opposite. I killed the controllers. Turns out pressing the thumb stick to the wall only makes so much of a difference, but try telling me that when I’m pushing hard for that last hidden letter, and need the perfect angle to make a jump.”
“So you broke your joystick playing with it too much.”
Innuendo. Nice. “Pretty much.”
“I can fix it.”
I smirked. Something told me I’d very much enjoy Cole playing with my joystick. “You can fix my joystick? Are you going to show me how to wiggle it the right way?”
“If a man doesn’t know that by the time he’s your age, there’s a problem. But I can finesse it from a different angle.”
I’d seen his tender side, but I’d also seen hints of roughness in the bedroom. Not that I minded either, despite my protests. “You don’t strike me as a joystick finessing kind of guy.”
“No? How do I strike you?”
“Let’s just say I suspect it would’ve broken a lot sooner if you were playing with it.”
“I wouldn’t snap it off or anything.”
My hands flew to cover my crotch. “God, I hope not. Especially if you want me to believe you’re not a sadist.”
Cole’s laugh was a deep, throaty sound that climbed up my spine and raced down again in a delicious shudder. “Being serious for a moment,” he said. “If that’s the only thing keeping you from using the system, I have the tools in my truck. I can fix it.”
“You know how to fix a broken game controller.”
“You and Luna aren’t the only geniuses around here. I’ll be right back.”
Cole returned a moment later with a small toolbox. He set up on the kitchen table, where the lighting was best.
