Chapter 221
**Sara**
I followed Tom to his sleek car, still shaking my head at the absurdity of a billionaire getting excited about arcade games.
I settled into the butter-soft leather seat of Tom's car, still amused by his childlike enthusiasm. The car purred to life, and I couldn't resist teasing him more.
"You know, for someone who drives this beast, you're awfully excited about cheap plastic prizes."
"Hey, that penguin is premium quality polyester, thank you very much." He navigated through evening traffic with one hand on the wheel, the other finding mine.
"Well, Professor Blackwood, what happens when you fail miserably at winning it for me?"
His eyebrows shot up. "When I fail? Don't you mean if?"
"Nope." I popped the 'p' sound, enjoying his competitive jaw tightening. "And since you're so confident, let's make it interesting."
"Interesting how?" Tom's eyes flickered between me and the road, his curiosity clearly piqued. The street lights cast moving shadows across his face, highlighting his annoyingly handsome profile.
"Oh, you know..." I traced patterns on the leather armrest, drawing out the moment. "A little wager to make things more exciting."
"Are you trying to bet with a finance professor?" He chuckled, turning onto the main street. "That's like challenging Gordon Ramsay to a cook-off."
"Please, this isn't about financial derivatives or whatever boring stuff you teach. This is pure skill, or lack thereof in your case."
"Alright, you've got my attention. What are the stakes?"
"If you lose, you must buy me any dress I want. And I mean any dress, no budget limits."
"That's it?" He snorted. "I can buy you a dress anyway. What do I get when I win?"
"If you win, you get..." I paused for dramatic effect, "a kiss."
Tom nearly missed a stop sign. "A kiss? That's hardly fair. I get those all the time anyway."
"Do you, though?" I smirked, knowing exactly how to push his buttons. "When was the last time I kissed you?"
"About twenty minutes ago in your kitchen."
"Technically, you kissed me. There's a difference."
He shook his head, clearly amused. "So let me get this straight. I risk buying you what could be a ridiculously expensive dress, and all I get is one kiss?"
"Take it or leave it." I stretched in my seat, ensuring he caught a glimpse of skin as my shirt rode up. "Unless you're not feeling confident anymore?"
"Oh, I'm confident." He pulled into the game zone parking lot. "But that's a weak prize offering. I expected better negotiation skills from an MBA graduate."
"Fine then, what would you suggest?"
"How about-"
"Just the kiss," I cut him off, already knowing where his mind was heading. "Final offer."
He parked the car, turning to face me with that infuriating smirk. "Deal."
My pulse quickened with anticipation as we stepped into the game zone's cacophony of flashing lights and blaring arcade sounds. It was a nostalgia trip, with sticky candy residue on the floor and the faint scent of popcorn lingering in the air.
Tom looked around like a kid in a candy store, his eyes wide with delight. It was ridiculous and a little charming.
"You ready to lose horribly?" I teased, bumping him with my shoulder.
"Confident, aren't you?" He played it cool, leading me to the skeeball, which, if you asked me, had definitely seen better days. The once-glorious red plastic was weathered from all the happy abuse kids, and overzealous adults alike had given it over the years.
"Oh, we're starting with the heavy hitters, huh?" I gestured to the machine, feeling more like a skeptical observer than a willing participant.
Tom examined the machine as if it had come straight from the pages of a strategy guide. "Go big or go home, Sara."
He fed quarters into the machine, rolling the first ball with a flick of his wrist. The ball rolled up the lane, soaring into one of the lower-scoring holes. He frowned but quickly recovered, adopting a more focused stance.
"I see you came prepared," I said, watching him concentrate with the determination of a man planning a corporate takeover.
His next shot was better, landing squarely in a higher point zone. "Told you. All just math and physics." He played another round, just missing a jackpot. "Come on, Sara. Show me what you got."
With exaggerated confidence, I approached the machine and grabbed a ball. I pulled back my arm, trying to mimic whatever professional tactic Tom seemed to be using. The ball arched high into the air, hit the backboard with an unsatisfying clunk, and dropped pathetically into the lowest score ring. I could feel the embarrassment flood up to my cheeks.
Tom laughed. "I think it's safe to say you owe me that kiss."
I rolled my eyes, feigning disinterest, and took another ball. This time, I rolled it more carefully, focusing less on winning and more on simply enjoying the experience. The ball landed a little better, bouncing into a decent score hole. I did a little victory wiggle, making Tom snort. "Alright, alright, not bad. Beginner's luck?"
"Definitely not," I replied, sidestepping the truth. "I'm just saving my energy for the big finale here."
He turned to the last ball with mock seriousness on his face, sending it soaring toward the jackpot. It wobbled and instead sank disappointingly low. Tom sighed, shrugging off his loss with an endearingly sheepish grin. "Well, not everyone can be as good as me."
"Sure, keep telling yourself that," I teased. I turned my attention to the prize counter with its dizzying array of plastic toys, trinkets, and candies. "What'll it be, hot shot? After all that bragging, you've got... what? Two tickets?"
"More than enough for a set of vampire teeth," Tom quipped, proudly waving the sad amount of tickets in the air. "Or better yet, some slap bracelets? It's retro, just like us."
I shook my head, eyes rolling dramatically. "Fine, but if you can't win that penguin, you're definitely buying the dress."
"Speaking of penguins..." Tom scanned the chaos of games, his eyes landing on the infamously rigged claw machine. From past experiences, attempts to control those twitchy metal fingers were less of a game and more foolish optimism.
"You can't be serious," I said, watching him head straight toward the claw machine.
"Dead serious. Have you seen my precision?" He strode confidently over, slipping a dollar in the slot. The claw jerked to life, suspended over a sea of plush toys, bright colors, and blinking eyes.
"Remind me, Professor Blackwood, what was that about physics and math?"
He shot me a smile that was part challenge, part thrill, and slowly moved the joystick, lowering the claw into position. The plush toys stared back defiantly.
"Watch carefully," he said, eyes fixed on the prize.
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