A Promise Gone Wrong

Chapter Twenty: Heart Strings

Dylan's dark, mysterious aesthetic is already alluring enough especially under this dim lighting. It makes his black hair seem even darker, thick eyelashes longer, and pale skin glow like he's some kind of vampire. His muscle shirt gives away that he's toned but the fact that he didn't break a sweat during their match reveals how in shape he is. 

Grinning, Cameron rubs the back of his head. "Yeah, but she should still beat him. I mean you guys do this all the time. Dylan is just coordinated."

"It's a tie!" the game announces, flashing the phrase in giant, bold letters across their screens. 

No way.

"I call a rematch!" Brielle shoves her fists to her hips as she turns to her smirking opponent.

"Now that I've warmed up, I don't think that's a risk you should be willing to take," he warns. "If you accept the tie, we can call the whole bet off."

Bet.

An association between the man-whores and that word leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Every time I hear it all I can think about are the countless girls whose hearts they've broken. I can't deny my feelings for Cameron have grown deeper, but remembering who he was before me keeps caution tape around my heart. 

How could I love someone I don't yet fully trust? At the same time, he has been so thoughtful and compassionate over the past few weeks that it's possible he has changed for the better. 

"No, I want a rematch," Brielle insists. 

Somehow, they score a tie for their second round as well. 

"Looks like this is going to take a while," Cameron sighs, as they argue back and forth about whether to do another rematch or call it. 

"Let's go do something else to pass the time then," I shrug, and buy us enough tokens to play a handful of games.

We battle aliens, race on motorcycles, score a few tickets, and enjoy a few rounds on an air hockey machine that spits out about a hundred miniature pucks. After we're all out of tokens, we begin heading back to the DDR machine to retrieve our friends. 

"Wait, look," he says, pausing our stride and giving a gentle tug on my hand. 

He's stopped us beside a photo booth, checking behind the curtain and meeting my eyes with a twinkle in his gaze when he discovers it's available. A small head tilt is his way of asking, and it's such a cute gesture that I can't help but give in. 

Sitting beside him on the booth, I catch a flattering whiff of his cologne, which is none other than the over-priced but ever-alluring scent of an Abercrombie and Fitch store. It's not his usual choice, but I appreciate that I don't have to go into that horrid store in order to enjoy the fragrance. 

"You smell nice," I speak up, setting my shopping bag onto the floor between our legs while he leans over inserting the last of our tokens to set up the machine.

His blue eyes gaze up at me as though the comment catches him by surprise, and I laugh when he lifts his shirt to his nose like he forgot which cologne he wore. 

"Thank you, but--" he trails off, a blush darkening his cheeks as he sits up.

"But what?"