More Than Maybe - Erin Hahn Page 0,45

stack of quarters, and she’s determined to win the jackpot.

“How many do you have so far?” I ask Cullen, nodding at the stash of paper tickets dangling from his back pocket.

“Plenty,” he says. “And I’ve come prepared with a secret weapon.”

“Which is?”

“My winning smile.”

I roll my eyes with a groan. “We’re doomed. I’m just gonna cash in for some Dubble Bubble.”

“Stop!” he says, jumping in front of me and grabbing my hands in his. “We can’t give up! There are certain machines that give out more tickets. Meg’s on quarters. She’s bound to strike it rich. And Zack is a Skee-Ball prodigy. It’s his hands,” he offers with a sly smile, leaning close. “Magic hands.”

I remove my hands from his grip, smacking his shoulder with a grin and glancing around for something to spend my last four quarters on. “Are those Dance Dance Revolution?” Before Cullen can say anything else about Zack’s magic anything, I make a beeline for the vacant machines.

I squat down, looking for the amount needed, and it’s a dollar. Perfect.

“Dance off?” Luke suggests, holding his last dollar out. He must have gotten tired of losing to Zack.

“‘99 Luftballons’?”

“Done,” he says.

“Have you done this before?”

His lips quirk. “Maybe. Are you scared?”

I straighten. “Not a chance. If I win, I get all your tickets. There’s a mood ring with my name on it.”

He shakes my hand. “Your funeral.”

I bend down to retie my Chucks and remove my long-sleeved work T-shirt, passing it to Zack to hold. Luke pretends to stretch his lats, and when he does, I notice he’s removed his jean jacket and is wearing a solid white T-shirt. A fitted one that stretches taut across his chest.

So, that’s not fair.

I shake off my thoughts and spit on my palms, rubbing at the soles of my shoes.

“Ew, Vada.” Meg snickers. I ignore her. This is serious.

We hit Start and step onto the arrows. At first, it’s slow. Step forward, step back. Together, apart. Luke’s with me step-by-step, and I can’t help but mouth along with the singer. I love this song.

About a minute in, it starts to pick up, but I’m here for it. I don’t glance at Luke, but I can feel him keeping time beside me. I slip into the beat, and I’m in the zone. Getting a little cocky, I take my hands off the bars. I can hear voices behind us but won’t let myself concentrate on anything but the beat blaring around our heads. My calves are burning, and my face feels warm. I swipe at sweat on my upper lip, but I’m smiling so hard, my cheeks hurt. This is the most fun I’ve had probably ever.

“Getting tired yet, Carsewell?” Luke asks, not sounding at all tired.

I don’t respond. I just keep dancing on this ancient machine. Step touch. Step touch. Jump apart, jump together. Jump diagonal. The song is clearly winding down because it shifts into hyper speed, and I gulp. I can do this. I put my hands back on the bars, but that throws me. Damn it.

I get off beat, and my screen lights up with misses. I try to catch up, but I can’t. Before I can recuperate, the song clicks off, and Luke’s victorious. I can’t be mad, though. He looks so damn cute with his hair sticking up off his forehead, slicked with sweat, and his T-shirt clinging to his abs.

Nope. I’m not even a little mad.

I pass over my tickets. “Fair and square,” I say, giving a fake bow. “I’m not worthy.”

He shoves my tickets into his pocket. “It’s okay. How could you possibly know I was the seventh-grade DDR champion back in London?”

“No!” I say, choking on my laugh.

“Hell yes. I’m not too proud. I beat out Cullen for the title.”

“He did?” I confirm.

Cullen shrugs easily. “I’m heavy on my feet.”

I follow Meg back to her quarter shelf. “I’ve been thinking about this,” I say. “What if you put in more than one at a time?”

She holds out the three she has left. “Worth a shot.” One by one, they plop in, and the entire continent of change shoves off the shelf, the winning chime ringing out.

“Holy smokes!” she cheers, collecting the still-streaming tickets and winding them around her fist.

“Yikes,” I say with a grin a minute later as she feeds tickets into the redemption machine. “Your parents will never forgive me for starting your gambling habit.”

“It’s true,” she says happily, her wings bouncing. “There’s no coming back from this den of iniquities.”