The weekend finally arrived, and Oliver texted me to meet at the park near my house. I got all dressed up in a blue blouse with puffed sleeves, paired with a white denim skirt. My hair was loosely curled, and I wore a small silver bracelet. My heart was racing as I headed to the park.
When I arrived, Oliver was waiting in his usual black leather jacket and jeans—simple, but he looked amazing.
"Clara! Over here!"
He spotted me and waved, that trademark grin lighting up his face. The moment he saw me, his eyes crinkled with genuine warmth.
"Hi, Oliver..."
"Hey yourself." His eyes scanned me from head to toe, a slow, appreciative smile spreading across his lips. "Wow. You look amazing."
I tried not to laugh like an idiot, but I failed. "Umm… thank you. You look amazing too." I felt my cheeks heating up as I spoke.
"Thanks, gorgeous." He stepped closer, close enough that I caught a faint whiff of his cologne, mixed with something uniquely him. "So, I was thinking we could hit the arcade first?"
"Oh, yes. Should we walk?"
"Yeah, let's walk. It gives us more time to talk." He winked, then held out his hand, palm up. "Ready?"
I blushed and placed my hand softly on his palm. "Lead the way, then."
His fingers curled around mine, fitting perfectly. A faint smirk played on his lips. "My pleasure."
He gave my hand a gentle squeeze before starting to walk, his thumb idly stroking the back of my hand as we moved.
"The arcade's this way. Hope you're ready to lose. I'm a beast at pretty much every game there."
"Hey, I was born ready."
He chuckled, the sound low and pleasant, and glanced at me with a playful glint in his eyes. "Oh, really? I like that confidence. We'll see if you're still saying that after I crush you at air hockey. Loser buys the winner a drink?"
"Don't underestimate me. I'm Jake's sister!"
He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I know who you are. But this isn't about Jake. This is about you... and me."
"I'm all yours... if you can keep up," I retorted.
He brought my hand up to his lips, his gaze locked on mine as he pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles. I held my breath, nerves buzzing under my skin.
"Don't worry, gorgeous. I can keep up. In fact... I plan on leading the way." He released my hand with a final, lingering touch. "Now come on. The sooner we get there, the sooner I get my free drink."
While walking to the arcade, I couldn't bear the silence. My heart was racing, and my fingers fidgeted nervously.
"So... was it weird when I said I asked you out?"
He paused, turning to face me fully. His expression softened, losing its playful edge for a moment. "Weird? No. Surprising? Maybe a little." A slow, genuine smile spread across his face. "But definitely not weird. It was actually kinda cute. It made my day."
I looked at him, a playful but slightly embarrassed smile on my face. "Well, I kind of owed you a date after you saved my life a month ago."
"Saved your life?" Oliver raised an eyebrow, looking amused. "That sounds dramatic."
"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about. The day Jake dragged you home while I was sprawled on the sofa in those hideous pajamas. I wasn't even wearing a bra, Oliver! I was literally one second away from a total meltdown."
Oliver paused, his smirk widening as he scanned my face. A mischievous glint sparked in his eyes. "Trust me, I noticed," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "Why do you think I dragged Jake upstairs so fast? I was trying to be a gentleman, but I'm only human, Clara."
My heart did a literal somersault. I hadn't expected him to be that blunt.
"You... you noticed?"
"Hard not to. But you looked cute, even in those pajamas."
I bit my lips, my face burning with a mix of shock and thrill. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch my chin. "Hey. Don't do that." He gave my hand a light squeeze. "No need to be nervous around me."
"Oh... I just get a little flustered."
He chuckled softly, warm and low, his eyes lingering on me for a moment. "Is that so? Well, you're not so bad yourself. Makes it hard to focus on getting to the arcade."
"Not so bad...? And also not so good?" I tried to tease him, looking away shyly.
"No... 'not so bad' is an understatement. You're impossible... and I like it. Now stop distracting me before we get there."
"Alrighty... can we keep walking...?" I couldn't meet his eyes, my cheeks burning.
His smirk softened into a gentle smile, and he offered me his hand again. "Yeah, we can. C'mon. We're almost there."
His fingers laced through mine, warm and secure. The arcade lights flashed across his face as we stepped inside, the din of games and excited shouts immediately surrounding us.
"Ah, paradise. So, what's your first move, champ? The air hockey table's over there. Or do you need to warm up with something easier first?"
"Let's warm up a little. My hands are kinda sweaty," I admitted.
He grinned and gently pulled me toward a nearby claw machine. "Okay, then. How about this? If you win something, you get to keep it and I'll buy the drinks. If you lose... you're buying."
"Deal. Prepare your wallet, Oliver."
He smiled and turned to the machine, popping in a token. "Prove you're not all talk. Go on." He leaned against the machine, crossing his arms and watching me with an amused, expectant look. "The clock's ticking, gorgeous. That pink teddy bear isn't going to grab itself. Or is the pressure getting to you?"
He chuckled, a low, easy sound. His gaze was fixed on my face, watching my expression with playful intensity. I tried to pick a target carefully.
"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or are you just trying to pick the perfect prize?" He nudged my shoulder gently with his.
"Alright, just see what I've got."
"Don't worry, I won't judge if you go for the sparkly unicorn."
"Let me see... How about the little blue bunny?" My eyes were fixed on the plushes.
He leaned in closer, his chin resting lightly against my shoulder so he could see the machine from my angle. His breath tickled my ear as he spoke. "The little blue bunny? Good choice. A classic. It's in a tricky spot, though. Think you can handle it? Or do you need an expert to show you how it's done?"
"Not now, don't distract me." I was determined to grab the bunny, slightly annoyed by his teasing.
He waited a beat, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he watched my intense focus. "No pressure. Just our entire future relationship riding on this one grab," he murmured right by my ear. "You got this. I believe in you. Mostly. You can try three times."
The claw almost grabbed the bunny, but it didn't hold on.
"Ugh..."
I lost all three chances and pouted a little. He chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and giving me a comforting squeeze. "Oof, so close. The classic claw machine heartbreak. Don't worry about it. It happens to the best of us."
He pulled a token from his pocket. "My turn."
He stepped up to the machine, his focus absolute. With practiced ease, he maneuvered the joystick, his movements precise and confident.
"See, the trick is all in the timing. You gotta be patient." He pressed the button, and the claw descended, perfectly positioned. "And just... like... that."
The claw closed firmly around the blue bunny. It lifted the prize, swung it over the chute, and dropped it with a soft thud.
"See? An expert, like I said."
My eyes almost popped in surprise. He retrieved the bunny and held it out to me, a triumphant yet gentle smile on his face. "For you, ma'am."
"Wow... You're a pro! Thank you!" I jumped and embraced his neck without even realizing what I was doing.
He stumbled back a step, caught off guard by my sudden embrace, but his arms instinctively came up to wrap around my waist, holding me steady. A soft laugh escaped him, warm against my hair. "Whoa there. You're welcome, gorgeous. Anything for my number one fan."
"Oh, sorry. I just... I couldn't help it." I pulled back slightly, my face flushing.
His hands stayed on my waist, keeping me from pulling away completely. He smiled, a soft and genuine expression this time, his gaze holding mine. "Hey. Don't be sorry. I'm not complaining." His thumb gently stroked my side. "Not at all."
"Alright. You can pick where we go on our next date. And I just named him 'Ollie'." I chuckled and showed the blue bunny to him proudly.
He raised an eyebrow, a slow, charming smile spreading across his face. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he looked from the bunny to me. "Ollie, huh? I'm flattered. Does this mean I have to call you now if I want to talk to him? I think I can live with that."
"Yes, every single day," I grinned mischievously.
He leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial murmur that sent a shiver down my spine. "Is that an order, gorgeous? Because I've gotta say, I'm finding it very hard to want to disobey. Every single day, huh? I think I can handle that."
"Good. I like guys who listen well."
His smirk widened, and he brought a hand up to cup my cheek, his thumb gently stroking my skin. His voice was a low, husky whisper. "Is that right? Well, I'm a very good listener. Especially when the person talking looks as good as you do. So what's next? What other rules do I need to follow?"
"Then... rule number two: stay humble."
"Rule number two it is. But remember, you still owe me a drink."
"Alright. Now we're going to play air hockey." I pointed toward the air hockey table.
Oliver's smirk widened, a challenging glint in his eye. "Okay then, let's raise the stakes. If I win this one..." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I get to pick where we go on our next date."
"Our next date?" I tried to steady my breathing.
"Hey, don't look so shocked." He chuckled. "You didn't think I'd let you go after just one, did you?"
His provocation was exactly the kind of bait I loved to take. I leaned against the table, matching his smirk. "Fine," I challenged. "But what if I win?"
Oliver raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely intrigued. "What do you want?"
"If I win, you have to do whatever I say after we're done here."
A slow, dangerous smile spread across his lips. "Deal."
"Ready to lose, then?"
He just laughed, that low, breathy sound that made my stomach flip, and took his position on the opposite side of the table.
"In your dreams, gorgeous. But I'm loving the confidence." A slow, predatory smile spread across his lips. He grabbed one of the plastic mallets from the table and tossed the other one to me with a flick of his wrist. "Let's see if your skills can back up that talk. First to seven points wins. And don't forget our deal."
He lifted his shoulders, teasing me. He took his position on the opposite side of the table, leaning forward slightly with the mallet held ready. His eyes were locked on mine, intense and playful at the same time. "Your serve. Show me what you've got."
"Hope you brought your A-game, handsome."
He just smirked, that slow, infuriatingly attractive grin that made my stomach flip. He didn't break eye contact as he rapped his mallet on the table's edge. "Always. The question is, did you? Don't hold back. I want to see Jake's sister at her best."
I served, sending the puck flying straight toward him, my heart racing. His reaction was instantaneous. With a sharp crack, his mallet met the puck, sending it rocketing back toward my goal. It barreled past my defense before I could even properly react.
"GOAL!" He rapped his mallet on the table, grinning triumphantly. "One to zero. That's my A-game, gorgeous. What was that you were saying about not holding back?"
"Just you wait." I gazed at him deeply.
He leaned on the table, his smirk widening as he met my intense gaze. "Ooh, I love that look. Go on then. Prove me wrong." He gestured for me to serve again, his eyes not leaving mine for a second. "I'm waiting."
I grinned, letting my fire show as I lined up the puck. With a swift flick of my wrist, I sent it sliding across the table, hitting just the right angle. The puck rocketed past him and...
"GOAL! One to one."
The game intensified. Oliver, true to his word, stopped holding back. The puck became a blur, ricocheting off the walls with loud cracks. He scored twice in quick succession, his movements fluid and precise. But I wasn't down for long. Remembering lessons from countless hours playing against Jake, I narrowed my focus, blocking his next shot and sending a lightning-fast return that slipped right past him. The score was 3-2.
He just laughed, the sound filled with genuine excitement. "Now we're talking! This is what I came for! Your turn!"
"Wow... You're really good at putting it in."
He froze mid-motion, his eyes flashing for just a moment before he threw his head back and roared with laughter. When he looked back at me, there was something different in his expression — more charged.
"Damn, Clara. Is that really what you meant by 'putting it in'?" His voice dropped to a playful rumble. "Because if that's your angle, we could have way more fun than just table hockey."
I bit my lips again, a mischievous spark in my eyes as I leaned closer, whispering just loud enough for him to hear. "Depends... are we talking about the puck, or something else?"
My heart raced, and I couldn't help but grin at the look on his face. His grin widened into something predatory. He leaned forward, his voice a low, husky drawl that sent a shiver down my spine.
"Oh, I think we both know we're not talking about the puck anymore." His eyes darkened, dropping to my lips for a heartbeat. "And trust me, gorgeous... I'm an expert at putting it a lot of places."
I blushed, heat rising to my cheeks as I stepped just a fraction closer, letting my fingers brush against his arm. "Oh really…? Well, I guess I'll just have to see for myself, won't I?"
His gaze followed the trail of my fingers on his arm, and then flickered back up to meet my eyes. He leaned in until his lips were just inches from mine, his voice a low, intimate murmur over the arcade's noise.
"I'd love to give you a private demonstration. But you still owe me a game. Win or lose... how about we get out of here after this?" He smirked, the look in his eyes promising things that had nothing to do with air hockey.
"Wouldn't dream of it. Your serve, gorgeous. Let's finish this."
The playful tension between us was electric. The game resumed with a new intensity. We both scored and blocked in a blur of motion, the puck a frantic black streak on the brightly lit table. The score drew even at 6-6. It was the final point.
Oliver served, sending the puck flying. I hit it back, a perfect defense. The rally was fierce, a rapid-fire 'clack-clack-clack' echoing between us. He feinted left, then slammed the puck hard right. I lunged, but it was too fast. The puck slid cleanly into my goal.
I threw my hands up in mock frustration, cheeks burning as I glared at him.
"Ugh, seriously?! You're impossible!"
I stepped closer, letting my voice drop into a playful murmur. "Alright, alright... maybe you do deserve that drink."
He threw his arms up in victory, a loud, triumphant whoop echoing over the arcade's noise. He circled the table and stopped right in front of me, a victorious, smug grin plastered on his face.
"That's what I'm talking about! Told you." He leaned in, his face inches from mine, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "And I'm gonna hold you to that, gorgeous. But I'm not thirsty for just a drink anymore."