Wanna Bet?: An Interracial Romance

by Talia Hibbert

  Sometimes Rahul made her feel like perfect wasn’t just a performance. Like someone could be seen as something special without constantly trying, as long as the right person was doing the seeing.

  Which was gross and emotional, and irrelevant, since she didn’t care how people saw her. She looked out the window at the industrial estates and car showrooms speeding by, and sang louder.

  If she had to guess by their location, she’d say they were going to the cinema—except she didn’t see why that would be a surprise. Suddenly impatient, she turned down the music and narrowed her eyes at him. “Where are we going?”

  He didn’t look away from the road. Just sprawled in his seat, a hand on the wheel, sunlight picking out the gold in his hair. “We’ve been over this.” But a little smile curved his lips. It was the kind of smile he wore right before he dragged her into the shower with him or knelt down and lifted her skirt. And, like it was an ingrained response, she felt heat curl low in her belly.

  But he couldn’t be allowed to know that a certain smile from him was enough to get her hot, so she scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Stop being all mysterious. You realise I’ll be able to see once we get close?”

  “I don’t know if you’ll figure it out,” he said. The car slowed as they turned a corner. They were headed to the cinema, or maybe one of the few restaurants that shared its industrial estate. Or the bowling alley across the way? But she hated bowling, because she was terrible at it.

  “Why wouldn’t I figure it out?”

  “It’s not exactly obvious.”

  She pondered that for a moment. “Are we going to the strip club?”

  That got his attention. He coughed so hard she thought he might choke. She was not exactly qualified to take the wheel if he passed out, so she really hoped he didn’t.

  After a moment, he caught his breath. Half-laughing, he asked, “The strip club?!”

  “You know. There’s the casino down there—” she pointed “—and it has that strip club.”

  “Jas.” They swung into a huge carpark just after the turning for the cinema. “We’re here to get out of the house. I don’t think sitting in a darkened room watching other people dance is a cure for restlessness.”

  “So we’re going to dance?”

  “Stop asking.”

  “Hmph. Well, I suppose we’re not going to the casino, either, since we’re… here.” As he parked the car, she squinted up at the huge building standing at the front of the lot. It had an enormous, flashing neon sign in bubblegum shades that read, LUCKY’S WHACKY ADULT EMPORIUM.

  She arched a brow. “Is this a sex thing?”

  “Nope.” He un-clicked his seatbelt and flashed a grin at her. “Do you think about anything other than sex?”

  “Shut up,” she snorted. “That sign is giving me mixed signals.”

  They got out of the car and wandered across the tarmac, weaving through oddly parked cars—though there weren’t many. Not enough to fill the huge lots that dominated this part of town, anyway. A light breeze swirled through the skirt of her white dress, soothing the intensity of the low-hanging sun against her skin.

  She kept meaning to wear suncream this summer, and kept failing. The upside was that she had tan lines Rahul seemed to like. A lot. The downside was the fact that she’d be wrinkled like a prune by the time she hit fifty.

  As they walked, Rahul slid an arm over her shoulder. “How are you feeling about your surprise so far?”

  “I’m pre-surprised,” she murmured, trying to figure out why the familiar weight of his arm and the softness of his skin was making her feel slightly dizzy.

  “Pre-surprised?”

  “I’m not surprised yet because I don’t know where we are, but I’m ready to be surprised when I find out.”

  “Ah. I see.”

  “Has this always been here?”

  “Nah. It’s new. If it wasn’t, you’d already know about it.”

  She arched a brow and squinted up at him, the sun stealing half her vision. She was about to ask what he meant, but then she noticed the sunglasses tucked into the front of his T-shirt. “Uh… what are those?”

  He looked down. “Oh. They’re for you.”

  She watched in astonishment as he pulled them free and handed them to her, his movements casual. “You… you brought sunglasses for me?”

  He smirked. “Well they’re not for me, are they?” Rahul’s mother, Deepika, was always telling him to get prescription sunglasses, and he continued to refuse. Apparently, it was a waste of time and money.

  Jasmine slid the glasses on, and the world was sepia. She looked up at Rahul, his skin washed a deeper brown. “Um… I… I forgot mine.”

  “I thought you might.”

  “This… is… good.”

  He laughed. “Are you trying to say thank you?”

  “Oh. Yes. That.”

  They walked in silence for a moment longer before his said, humour dancing through his words, “Go on, then.”

  “Hm?”

  He grinned down at her. “Say thank you.”

  “Oh. Right. Yes.” Why was this entire conversation making her chest tight and her cheeks warm? Jasmine wasn’t sure, but it was annoying her. She took a deep breath and ground her teeth for a second before forcing herself to say, “Thanks.”

  Before she could register what he was doing, Rahul pulled her closer into his side and kissed her forehead. That was…

  Fine. That was absolutely fine. Just because they happened to be sleeping together, and she liked him possibly more than anyone else in the world, didn’t mean everything between them had to be so heavy.

  In fact, right now, she felt lighter than air.

  They came to stand before the outdated, metal doors at the front of the building. They looked like fire exits, minus the push bars and flashing green signs. Rahul paused for a moment, as if for effect—and Jasmine stared sceptically at the rust-edged hinges and the smeared glass windows, swiped with some translucent white substance that stopped her from seeing through.

  “What a palace,” she said grimly.

  “Yep.” He sounded unsettlingly cheerful. With one hand, he shoved the heavy door open and moved aside to let her walk in.

  She stepped into heaven.

  16

  Now

  “Holy fucking shit balls,” she murmured.

  Oh, that was perfect. That was exactly what he’d wanted.

  Jasmine was walking ahead of him, unselfconscious, moving deeper into the renovated warehouse that had recently become the city’s strangest arcade.

  In fact, she wasn’t walking so much as skipping, and swearing a blue streak while she did it. He couldn’t blame her. He’d heard a lot about Lucky’s, and the place didn’t disappoint.

  Across the sprawling, red-carpeted space, the flashing lights of old-school arcade machines and more modern games competed with the colourful graffiti art splashed across the walls; art that featured the adventures of an Alice-in-Wonderland-alike with a pink dress and brown skin. He saw Jasmine stare at the art, then the games, then rise up on her toes to see the huge, circular glass counter at the centre of the room. The counter that held a few chatting employees in baby-blue uniforms, plus the arcade’s myriad prizes.

  Should’ve known she’d zero in on that. He grinned.

  She turned back to him with the biggest fucking smile on her face, and Rahul’s heart stopped. Stopped as if it was simply done—purpose achieved, life goal met. “Jasmine Allen looks so happy she could die; mission accomplished. Over and out.”

  Then she ran over and threw her arms around him, and he guessed the jolt as she slammed into his chest restarted his heart again. Or maybe it happened when she looked up, the sunglasses he’d given her slightly askew, and said, “You’re kind of amazing.”

  He pulled the glasses off gently, which was usually something she did to him. But he didn’t mind the role reversal. “Yeah?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She looked so bright and alive and excited,
and all he wanted to do was kiss her. Maybe, if he’d done it quick enough, a light brush of the lips, he could’ve gotten away with it. But Rahul realised he was staring down at her, and had been for a while, probably displaying every inch of his adoration.

  Couldn’t kiss her now.

  Instead, he twined his fingers through hers and pulled her forward. “Come on. Let’s play.”

  The journey to the circular counter would’ve been a long one anyway, but it ended up longer because Jasmine stopped to stare—and point, and gasp—at every cool thing they passed. And almost everything was cool.

  “Is that Donkey Kong? Oh my God, that’s Kung Fu Fighter. Holy fuck, Rahul, is that a bar?”

  He glanced over at the American diner-style counter and chairs that quite clearly constituted a bar. “Yeah. You see the big sign that says—”

  “Alright, arsehole, I see the bloody sign.” She was grinning uncontrollably, swinging their joined hands. “Lucky’s Sugarshot,” she read. “Sweetest Bar in Town.”

  “Apparently, they make shots based on different sweets,” he said, already waiting with a smile for her response.

  She didn’t disappoint. “Oh my sweet baby Jesus. Are you serious? I’m going to get absolutely smashed—”

  “Not yet,” he said gently. “You have to give me a few decent games, first.”

  Jas snorted, spearing him with a look. It was her competitive look, half adorable bravado and half gleaming, star-bright confidence. “I’d beat you with a bottle of vodka put away.”

  “See if you can beat me sober, first.”

  She laughed, and then she was off again, dragging him along as she practically flew through the room. She kept pointing out games she wanted to play, but Rahul’s attention wandered.

  What would she do if he pointed out that this was essentially a date?

  He wouldn’t, of course. He wouldn’t risk wiping the carefree smile from her face, erasing her excitement or the casual comfort between them. He wouldn’t put pressure on her.

  Especially since he’d started to think that Jasmine might be reconsidering certain things. Things about the two of them. About relationships.

  Maybe it was just wishful thinking. But the way she looked at him sometimes…

  She stood ahead of him, running her fingers over the migraine-bright art of the nearest pinball machine. She was beautiful. And her fucking dress was killing him slowly.

  It was pure white, bright against her dark skin, the soft cotton fabric imprinted with tiny leaves. The skirt was long and loose, but the top part was tight. Very tight, with thin straps at her shoulders that he could push down easily, and a sort of bow thing over her chest. He had this idea that if he tugged at that bow, the front of the dress might come undone—but he wasn’t sure if it worked that way.

  He intended to find out.

  “Come on,” he said, pulling her gently away from the pinball machine. “We need tokens to play.”

  When they reached the counter, he bought a ton of blue and pink coins. Jas glared at him as he pushed the basket of tokens into her hands.

  “You told me not to bring any money,” she said accusingly.

  “Yep.”

  “So what are we going to do? Spend your money all night?”

  “Yep.”

  “Rahul—”

  “Jasmine.” He shot her a look. “Choose a game, would you? Unless you’re scared of losing.”

  She huffed out a sharp breath. “I’m not that easily distracted.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  She gave him the finger and stalked off towards a first-person shooter.

  He followed, smiling like a fool.

  “So… One week left.”

  He didn’t know why he’d said it. Everything was so fucking perfect. But then, maybe that was why.

  Jasmine looked up from the reams of tickets they’d won, her brows raised. “Until what?”

  Rahul cleared his throat. “Until your room’s ready. At Tilly’s.”

  “Oh. Right.” A shadow passed over her face, the glee that had been there as she trounced him at every game fading away. And even though he hated the loss, the implication sent a flash of hope through him. Why would she look unhappy about going home?

  Maybe because Tilly’s irritating and your flat is nicer.

  Or maybe because she was going to miss him the way he’d miss her.

  “I suppose,” she said, folding up the tickets and shoving them into the little basket they’d been given. The pink and blue tokens were fading fast now, replaced by a small mountain of paper strips. He should’ve known she’d be amazing at this. She had the luck of the gods, and she was good at pretty much everything.

  “Have you seen it recently?” He asked, leaning against a pinball machine.

  She gave him an odd look. “The room? When would I have seen it? I’m either at work or with you.”

  Ah. Right. It occurred to him that he had been monopolising her time recently. He’d never known Jasmine to spend weekends in rather than partying with her friends. Maybe this was the part where he gave her more space and encouraged her to go, but he didn’t want to do that because he was a greedy, selfish fuck, and they’d both have plenty of space soon enough, anyway.

  Instead, he said, “We should look together. Sometime this week. Check things are going okay.”

  “Maybe,” she murmured, wandering ahead of him, passing one of those capsule RPGs. Two people sat inside, sharing a fake motorbike, the screen’s flashing display cutting through the shadows. They were kissing.

  Jasmine stared for a moment, frozen mid-step. Her gaze darkened, her chest rising and falling with each breath.

  He curled his hands into fists. If he didn’t, he might touch her. If he touched her, he might drag her off somewhere dark and barely-hidden, just like the couple she watched.

  The moment lasted a second or two before she turned, shaking her head slightly. She flashed him a rueful smile, then walked away.

  Towards the bar.

  “I think I’ve beaten you enough sober,” she said, her voice light. “Time to make things interesting.”

  Even though he wanted to push, even though hope and worry warred in his chest, he couldn’t resist the mischievous smile she flashed him over her shoulder. He loved her shoulders. Was that an odd thing to love? Didn’t matter.

  She perched on one of the blue and cream leather stools, leaning against the glass surface of the bar. He came to join her and found that beneath the glass, what seemed to be a hundred flavour options were displayed in a bar-long sort of menu. There were different liqueurs, and then various sweets, chocolates and desserts, along with suggested combos. Jas stared at the bubble writing and illustrations like a kid in a sweet shop.

  “Bailey’s cheesecake,” she muttered, her finger tracing over the letters. Then, her eyes flying over the next few options: “Jelly bean vodka! Oh, God. I hope you’re ready to carry me to the car.”

  He laughed. “If necessary. But I need to talk to you first.”

  She arched a brow. “That sounds serious. You know I hate serious.”

  “It’s not serious. I just want to talk. Outside.”

  She gave him a suspicious look, then turned to catch a bartender’s eye. The guy had been waiting for her, that much was clear. He leapt forwards as if she’d called him by name, his smile blatantly flirtatious. Jasmine tended to have that effect.

  “Hey,” she said. “You do virgins?”

  For a second, Rahul thought she was making some kind of outrageous sexual reference. Then he realised she was talking about alcohol.

  The bartender shrugged slightly and said, “Tell me what you want and I’ll do my best.”

  “Something with Snickers. Also, a jelly bean vodka. Thanks.”

  While the bartender attempted to show off, throwing bottles around like an accident waiting to happen, Jasmine turned to look at Rahul. Her smile was hesitant and the kind of sweet he’d like to taste. But he had no idea what she’d do if he k
issed her in public.

  He’d find out, though. Soon.

  “I thought you might want a sugar… thing,” she said. “A sugar drink. Thingy. Not a shot.”

  “Technically,” he said, “as long as it’s in a shot glass, it’s still a shot.” Hopefully his teasing tone hid the fact that he was unreasonably touched by her thinking of him. It was ridiculous. She did things like that all the time. She was his friend.

  But if he’d thought he’d known infatuation before, he’d been sorely mistaken, because ever since the moment he’d gotten her naked, nothing had felt the same. Everything was brighter, louder, almost too much to handle, except shutting out his senses would mean shutting out her. Ignoring the fact that this might end in disaster would mean ignoring the fact that he knew how to make her scream his name. The danger and the perfection were entwined.

  Life was tough. What else was new?

  Their drinks were presented with a flourish, and he watched as Jasmine tossed hers back. He liked watching her do shots. It was one of the many weird obsessions he’d developed while they were at uni together; studying the line of her throat as she threw her head back, the way her muscles shifted as she swallowed, the look of bracing shock on her face as she slammed down the glass and her eyes lit up.

  Rahul swallowed his without tearing his gaze from her face. When she smiled and said, “Good?” he grunted in response. Then he stood, and caught her hand, and pulled her with him.

  She laughed as he tugged her out of the little bar area and onto the main floor. “Wait, where are we going? Slow down, sugar. Oh, crap, we left our tickets!” She didn’t sound too upset about that, despite the amount they’d earned. And she didn’t stop walking, or break his grip on her hand.

  No; she followed him all the way, right out into the thick, heavy heat of the night. Somehow, the sun had fallen and the moon taken its place while they’d been playing inside. He had no idea how long they’d been at it and didn’t care.

  Rahul turned sharply towards the side of the building, found an alleyway between Lucky’s and the side of the next abandoned warehouse, and pulled Jasmine into it with him.