Page 143 of Shut Up and Score
He catches my eye, smirks, and tosses me my sneakers. “Come on, Taylor. We’ve got Mario Kart to dominate.”
“You mean I’ve got Mario Kart to dominate,” I shoot back, slipping them on.
He stands close enough that his shoulder brushes mine, leaning in to murmur, “We’ll see about that,” before stealing one more kiss—quick, but enough to leave me smiling all the way to the door.
Luke’s dorm door is propped open, the sounds ofMario Kartchaos spilling into the hall. He glances up when we step inside, his grin turning smug.
“Hey, lovebirds,” he says, as if it’s the most normal thing in theworld. “You’re just in time—Ty’s losing and blaming the controller.”
“I’m not losing,” Ty calls from a beanbag without looking away from the screen. “I’m strategizing. And it would be easier if the joy stick wasn’t drifting without my help.”
Will’s on the carpet beside him, smirking. “Strategizing to lose faster?”
Luke gestures toward the bed where two controllers wait. “You in?”
Micah heads for the bed, still wearing my hoodie, and tosses me a controller. “Yeah, we’re in.”
Ty finally glances over, grinning when he sees us. “Good. I need someone else to humiliate besides Will.”
“Not gonna happen,” I say, dropping onto the bed beside Micah so our knees bump.
Luke shakes his head, settling back with his own controller. “This is gonna be fun.”
The countdown starts, and Micah leans in just enough for his voice to be for me alone. “Hope you’re ready to lose in front of your friends, Taylor.”
I smirk. “Hope you’re ready to eat my dust, Blackman.”
The race starts, and before I’ve even cleared the first turn, a red shell slams into my kart.
“Seriously?” I glare at him out of the corner of my eye.
Micah’s grin is pure trouble. “What? Gotta keep you humble, Taylor.”
Ty snorts from the armchair. “This is gonna be good.”
Luke leans forward, his arms on his knees with his own controller, grinning. “If you two start flirting mid-race, I’m docking points.”
“Dock all you want,” Micah says, not looking away from the screen. “Still gonna win.”
We spend the next three laps elbowing each other and trash-talking under our breath. By the time we cross the finish line, my sides hurt from laughing, and Micah’s looking smug enough to make me want to throw a pillow at him.
He stretches like he’s got all night. “One down. Plenty more where that came from.”
“Good,” I say, leaning against the wall, legs stretching out in front of me on the bed. “Gives me time to crush you next round.”
Micah smirks, already scrolling through the track list. “We’ll see about that.”
Apparently, I’m not as good atMario Kartas I thought I was, because I am not able to beat Micah or Luke, for that matter, for the next half hour.
We’re still propped against the wall on Luke’s bed, my legs stretched out in front of me, knees bent just enough that Micah’s thigh is pressed along mine. His back is warm against my shoulder, the hum of the game filling the room.
He’s got the controller in his hands, thumbs flying, but every so often his head tips just slightly toward me like he can’t help it. My own controller’s in my lap, my focus…questionable.
“Eyes on the track, Taylor,” he says without looking at me, that cocky little grin tugging at his mouth.
“I am,” I lie.
Ty groans from the beanbag across the room. “You’re watching him, not the game.”
