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It says something really sad about their town that they spend so much of their time in a dirty old arcade, or something really sad about their dedication to school work, Jonny can’t decide. He doesn’t stay nearly as late as the rest of them do, preferring to get home in time for dinner and do his homework after, but he knows everyone else sticks around until curfew, sometimes even on Sundays.
He’s tried to get them to do something different - a movie maybe, or bowling. But they’re fond of the cheap sodas and soft pretzels, and as Kaner puts it, “The bowling alley doesn’t have DDR, man.”
Fucking Dance Dance Revolution.
The whole group is assembling early one Saturday, because Kaner has to be home for his sister’s birthday party or something, and he’s apparently their social director so everyone does what he asks. Jonny’s grumpy about it, but then he’s grumpy about a lot of stuff when it comes to Kaner, because the guy gets under his skin like no one else he’s ever known, and he’s a teenage boy, okay, he’s had a lot of irritating friends.
Not even Shawzy drives Jonny as crazy as Kaner does, which is saying a lot.
Jonny rides with Crow and his girl - the only significant other that has survived an arcade day, because she’s awesome, and apparently when you’re dating Crow your tolerance for weird is pretty high - and Saader, and they’re running late because Crow is basically always running late. His car is a piece of shit, but it’s his and not his parents’, so even though it’s a two-door and has the tiniest backseat in existence they still make him drive everyone around all the time. Jonny angles in behind the driver’s seat, and tries to make as much room for Saader as he can when they pick him up, but they still end up squeezed together for the short duration of the ride.
Bicks and Kaner are playing Big Buck Hunter when they arrive, Shawzy bouncing around behind them.
“Kaner, Kaner, Kaner,” he’s chanting, and Kaner is resolutely ignoring him. Bollig is standing behind him with his arms crossed over his chest, looking irritated and fond all at the same time. It would be a perplexing look except that Jonny’s pretty sure it’s the same one he wears whenever Kaner is being particularly obnoxious. Which is basically always.
“Jesus, Shawzer,” Kaner says, blocking one of Shawzy’s errant elbows. “You’re fucking up my game.”
“Kaner, everyone’s here,” Shawzy says, and Kaner glances up over his shoulder, over the butt of the bright orange plastic rifle he’s got pressed there, and lifts an eyebrow. He’s clearly unimpressed at their tardiness. Jonny doesn’t love being late but he does love when Kaner gets all salty about it.
“‘Bout time,” Kaner says, and reloads the rifle before pulling the trigger, catching the deer in the game on the ass and making it bolt from the screen. “Fuck.”
Bicks fells all three of his bucks on his turn, and holds his gun in the air in celebration.
“Yeah, I’m through,” Kaner says, and slots his rifle back in the plastic holster. “Come on, Shawzy, let’s dance.”
The saddest part about spending all their time at an arcade is definitely how much of it is wasted clustered around the DDR machine watching Kaner and Shawzy dance. And yet Jonny follows everyone over, noticing the obvious space that’s left for him on Kaner’s side of the machine, right up close to the railing so he can see. He could go play pinball, or Skeeball, or something respectable like air hockey. But no. He stands between Bicks and Crow and watches Kaner slot quarters into DDR and go through the settings until everything is just right.
It is entertaining, watching Kaner and Shawzy play. They’re both ridiculously good at it, Jonny can admit. He likes to think it’s because they’re short, so their legs are shorter and thereby easier to control. Bicks had scoffed at that theory the first time Jonny’d shared it, though, so he hasn’t voiced it to anyone else. Instead he chirps Kaner nonstop about practicing at home with his sisters, because the Kane family dance-offs may sound too ridiculous to be true, but Jonny has actually witnessed a few, and they’re pretty hilarious.
“What song first?” Shawzy asks.
“Healing Vision,” Bollig says, and Kaner groans. Jonny can’t remember which song that is, because apparently he doesn’t pay as close attention as Bollig does, but it makes that weird light in Shawzy’s eyes gleam, and Jonny has a feeling it’s probably not their favorite.
It starts out slow, the arrows on the screen crawling upwards, and both Kaner and Shawzy are shaking their legs out like they’re about to run a marathon. Then the beat comes in, and the arrows speed up, and both of them are fucking flying. Their feet are blurs on the pads, their hands gripped tight on the railing behind their backs, and Jonny can’t help but gape a little.
He’s seen them do this one before, he remembers now, and it’s always brutal, the way they pant and sweat after. But it’s fun to watch, not only for the way they’re both pounding away, but for the way they look so wrecked after, Kaner’s chest heaving as he grins at his high score, Shawzy scowling with a dripping face. Bollig laughs, and Bicks wanders off with Crow and his girl, probably back to shoot deer, and Jonny almost wants to applaud. It was a good show, and Kaner looks so pleased.
Instead he sneers when Kaner turns to him, grin bright, and says, “Like I’m supposed to be impressed. That song was slow as hell.”
“Slow? Oh fuck you, I’d like to see you try.”
No fucking way is he doing that, or at least not on the most difficult setting. He’s tried to keep up with Kaner on DDR before and ended up with a bruise on his tailbone from going down hard on the edge of the platform. Fuck that.
“Please. Like I want to play your little dancing game. How about a game that requires skill?”
Kaner’s eyes are slits when he turns back to the machine, and he picks something pulsing and quick, that makes him twist his legs around like corkscrews, and Jonny can’t take his eyes off him.
At least Bollig seems the same way with Shawzy, on the other side of the machine, color riding high on his cheekbones. Makes Jonny feel less weird about it, slightly.
“How’s that for skill,” Kaner pants, dragging the hem of his tee shirt up to wipe his face like the truly disgusting cretin that he is. Jonny only glances at the cut of his abs for a moment, gleaming with sweat, a trail of pale hair dipping under the waistband of his ugly plaid boxers.
“Pull up your pants,” Jonny says, because Kaner thinks wearing his jeans nearly under his ass is a good look or something. Then again he thinks using three pounds of gel to hold his curls to his head is a good look, too. Kaner smirks at him, letting his damp shirt fall back into place.
“Buy me a Coke,” Kaner shoots back, and Jonny rolls his eyes but turns on his heel to make for the concession stand.
Jonny buys Kaner a Coke, and a bottle of water for himself, and grimaces when Kaner’s sweaty forearm brushes against his. “God, you’re gross.”
“You love it,” Kaner says, grinning around his straw, and Jonny can’t bring himself to argue.
When they get back to the machine Shawzy is trying to coerce Bollig into playing, and Bollig is laughing, shoving him away only to have him get back up in his space again.
“This should be good,” Kaner mutters, and Jonny can’t help but agree.
It’s pretty spectacular, how awful Bollig is, especially when compared to Shawzy. Bollig’s pretty good natured about it, at ease enough with his many other good qualities to admit he’s totally crap at some things. Jonny wonders what that’s like.
“I’m not really worried about my DDR skills,” Bollig says, when he’s been trounced for the second time in a row. “I’ve got real dance skills.” He’s smirking, and everyone knows he’s a liar. They’ve all been to school dances together, and Bollig’s version of dancing involves rubbing himself on everyone on the floor, arms in the air and grin on his face. It’s hilarious, Jonny won’t lie, but it’s not skillful in any way, shape, or form.
“Wow,” Shawzy says, not buying it, and Bollig huffs.
“This isn’t exactly a fair match-up,” Kaner says, and everyone turns to look at him. He’s got his straw pressed to his bottom lip, making a little white indent in the pink fullness of it. No one else seems as floored by this as Jonny is, instead just glaring at him impatiently, waiting for him to finish what he’s obviously planning on saying. “Maybe Saader should help Bollig out. A little Brandon and Brandon action.”
Shawzy’s jaw clenches so tightly Jonny’s worried his teeth are going to crack and fall out. If looks could kill, Kaner would be dead where he stands. Bollig, on the other hand, looks supremely pleased, and reaches out to haul Saader up onto the platform. Saader just goes with it, mild-mannered and malleable as ever.
“How is this going to work?” Jonny asks, and Kaner starts directing. Saader gets the right and back arrows, Bollig gets left and front. It’s awkward for sure; both Bollig and Saader are big guys, broader in the chest than Jonny, and they don’t fit easily in the space meant for one person. Saader’s got his arms out like he’s surfacing, clearly trying to balance without getting too close to Bollig, but Bollig doesn’t seem to care, tossing pleased glances in Shawzy’s direction as he tests out jumping on both arrows, jostling Saader a little, ass in his groin.
“Someone’s going to get killed,” Shawzy says, and it sounds more like a threat than a concern. Kaner grins, and takes quarters off the machine to pay for the next round, and then they’re off.
The Brandons almost fall off the platform several times, knocking into each other constantly even though they’re playing on the easiest setting, and Kaner stands next to them to act as a bumper, shoving them back upright when they start to tip. Everyone on that side of the machine is laughing, breathless, having a good old time. Meanwhile Shawzy looks like he’s going to bite through his tongue, mouth pursed and face bright red as he stomps away at his pads.
The first song ends in a flurry of arrows, and Saader pitches off the platform hard enough to knock Kaner off his feet. They land in a pile on the grody carpet, giggling like children, and Bollig hops down to help them. He gets his arm around Saader’s chest and hauls him upright, and Saad’s hair is flopping out of it’s perfect sweep, damp on his forehead. They’re flush together for a brief moment, laughing, and Shawzy spits out, “This is ridiculous,” and then flounces off the machine and towards the bathroom.
“Yes,” Kaner says, still on his back on the floor, and pumps his fist in the air. Bollig lets go of Saader, who is still grinning and shoving his hair back, and reaches out to yank Kaner to his feet.
“You’re such a douche,” he says, and Kaner grins.
“It worked though, didn’t it?” he asks, and Bollig rolls his eyes, but then he goes off towards the bathrooms and Jonny thinks he gets it.
“Did you seriously just do that to make Shawzy jealous?” he asks, eyes narrowed at Kaner. Kaner looks pleased, if a little rumpled from having Saader land on top of him.
“Obviously. Neither one of them was going to make a move, fucking shitshows.”
Saader laughs, and brushes some dirt from Kaner’s shoulder. “Like you can talk,” he says, and then dances back and away from Kaner’s swinging fist. “I’ll go get more quarters.”
Jonny doesn’t know what that exchange was about at all, but he doesn’t like the sour look it left on Kaner’s face. The menu music for DDR is still playing, waiting for someone to pick the song for the second round, so Jonny steps up onto the platform, hanging over the railing.
“Come on,” he says, and feels warm inside when Kaner sees him standing up there and grins. “Don’t want to waste a game.”
Kaner beats him by like a million points, and it’s fucking irritating as hell when he can’t get his feet to cooperate and gets six misses in a row, but it’s still somehow worth it when Kaner does a lap of the arcade with his arms raised, whooping over his victory.
*****
Jonny’s birthday is coming up, and he makes a list of the things he wants before he crumples it up and goes to his mom and asks for the XBox version of Dance Dance Revolution. His face burns as he says it, even though he’s asked for video games before and it’s not like his mom knows why he wants that particular one. David gives him a look, but he still plays Rock Band by himself, the tool, so he can’t judge.
The guys buy him a soft pretzel and a giant soda at the arcade the following Saturday, and Kaner even offers to play him at Cruisin’ World because Jonny is way better at it than Kaner. It’s a nice gesture, and Jonny hooks his elbow around Kaner’s neck to give him a shake by way of thanks.
They get a bit of a shock when they troop over and find Bollig and Shawzy jammed between the machines, making out like they’re not in a public place. It’s nice that they’ve finally gotten their shit together but it doesn’t mean Jonny wants to see Shawzy sucking on Bollig’s neck.
Especially since it makes him acutely aware of Kaner whistling and cat-calling next to him, fingers in his mouth so he can make the shrillest noise possible. It makes Jonny uncomfortable, the thought that everyone’s so okay with two of their buddies hooking up, and not because Jonny’s a homophobe or anything like that. He’s spent a lot of evenings in his room coming to terms with his own attraction towards guys. It’s just … he’s pretty sure the guy he’s most attracted to is Kaner, because he’s just that unlucky, and it’s easier to deal with when it seems highly improbable that anything will ever happen between them.
The guys’ acceptance was always one of the reasons Jonny thought he and Kaner would never happen. Seeing them chirping Bollig and Shawzy, pushing them around while their faces flame, defiant smirks on their faces, it demolishes one of the roadblocks Jonny had put in his and Kaner’s way.
He knows the biggest one would be Kaner’s obvious, loudly trumpeted love of girls, but still. It makes Jonny uncomfortable anyway, logical or not.
Kaner seems to notice, drawing his eyebrows down and digging his knuckles into Jonny’s arm. “What’s your deal, man?”
“Nothing,” he says, and drops into the seat of the machine. “Just gearing up to kick your ass.”
“Eat my dust,” Kaner says, making Jonny groan, but he still looks suspicious as he folds himself up behind his own wheel.
Kaner barely makes it into seventh place, while Jonny places first by a wide margin, and Jonny makes him go again, just to rub it in.
“It’s my birthday,” he says, when Kaner protests, and Kaner rolls his eyes.
“Your birthday was three days ago, dickwad.” But he puts in more quarters anyway, leaning over to pay for Jonny’s game as well.
*****
Jonny turns down a DDR rematch three weeks in a row. He’s progressing during his home practice sessions, but he still can’t get an A on the hardest song on the hardest setting, and he’s bound and determined to see every jaw in the arcade drop when he finally deigns to perform. He knows it’s a long shot, actually beating Kaner, when Kaner’s DOC takes up seven of ten of the high score slots on the machine, but it’s miles ahead of the way he normally fails out to the booing of the crowd in the game and he’s proud of it. He might even bump Shawzy’s MUT out of the tenth spot.
He’s always worked better with lofty goals.
The opportunity presents itself on their first Saturday of summer vacation. They get to the arcade a little later, knowing they can stay a little later, and they’re all in the kind of light, easy mood that the end of the school year always brings. Jonny aced all of his final exams, but he’d had to study like a madman to do it, and he’d been feeling the wear and tear of several all nighters in a row. Now he feels loose and happy, having slept in for a couple of days in a row, his desk cleared of every textbook and notebook he’d spent so much time with in the last few weeks.
Kaner and Shawzy are going at it, as usual, the strains of the horrible DDR music filling the arcade. It’s more familiar to Jonny now, having played in every spare bit of time he had since his birthday, and he almost wants to hum along to the shitty techno. Bollig is leaning one hip against the railing at Shawzy’s side, Crow behind him demolishing a soft pretzel. His girlfriend is playing Big Buck Hunter with Bicks. Saader’s playing pinball all by his lonesome, so Jonny heads over there first.
“Hey, kid,” Jonny says, even though Saader’s only a couple of years behind him. A sophomore now, to Jonny’s senior. The thought makes him smile: two months until he gets to start his last year of high school. It’s a beautiful thing.
“Tazer,” Saader acknowledges, jabbing the buttons for the flippers and making a bunch of lights flash. Jonny’s not that familiar with pinball - for all the hours he whiles away in an arcade he doesn’t actually play much of anything.
“Thinking about asking for a DDR rematch today.” Jonny settles against the pinball machine next to Saader’s and watches his eyebrows lift. He doesn’t take his eyes off the game, but he’s clearly interested.
“Oh yeah? Think you can beat him?”
Jonny lifts a shoulder, even though Saader can’t see. “Nah, probably not,” he admits, easier than it used to be, now that he knows it’s actually possible. But he’s got to manage the expectations here, so his victory will be even more mind blowing.
He gets a little shiver of anticipation up his spine, and grins to himself.
“Let me finish this game,” Saader says, and darts a quick glance at Jonny. “I don’t want to miss it.”
No, Jonny thinks. He definitely doesn’t want to miss it.
Jonny waits until everyone else is done with their game, corralling them into a cluster around the DDR machine, and then gets as close to Kaner’s side as he can without catching an elbow in the face.
“I got winner,” he says, and is totally gratified when Kaner falters just enough to get a great instead of a perfect on his next few steps.
When the song is over, Kaner reaches out and jabs at the button for the next song, not even scrolling through to pick a particular one. Shawzy glares over at him, but doesn’t have time to protest before he has to move, and they fly through the end of the round. Kaner beats Shawzy pretty soundly, and then shoves him off the platform and into Bollig’s chest.
“Jonny’s got winner,” Kaner says, and even Shawzy stops bitchy.
Jonny circles the machine and steps up, and Kaner’s got his shirt jacked up again, rubbing at his face. The air conditioner hasn’t quite caught up to the humidity outside, so it’s warmer in the arcade than usual, and Jonny can just see the flush that’s spreading down Kaner’s chest before Kaner drops his shirt. He smirks, and Jonny smiles back, easy.
“Feeling up for some punishment?” Kaner asks, and his normal smirk looks suddenly filthy, Jonny’s brain taking the words and twisting their meaning without his permission. He keeps his expression light, eyes steady, and shrugs.
“Do your worst,” he says. Kaner’s eyelids droop a little, but his smirk stays in place.
Jonny feeds in the quarters, and he can hear Shawzy go “whaaaaa?” behind him as he sets the highest level of difficulty. Kaner glances over and then double takes, eyes wide.
“You sure about that?” he asks, and Jonny shrugs.
“You can pick the music,” he says, dodging the question, leaning back on the railing and crossing his arms nonchalantly. There’s a tension in the little group around the machine, Bollig holding his hand over Shawzy’s mouth to keep him quiet, Crow so distracted the cheese from his third soft pretzel of the day is dripping down his fingers. Kaner is watching Jonny thoughtfully, eyes narrowed, and finally he nods, scrolling through the songs twice before finally landing one, sending Jonny a challenging glance before getting into position.
Since Jonny’s been playing on a pad at home he figures there will be a little adjusting that needs to happen, but he gets into the swing of things pretty quickly. He’d made David sit on a chair so Jonny could use the back as a railing substitute, and it seems to have worked, because he’s able to lean back on his hands and let his legs move without fear of tripping himself up and falling over onto Saader.
He doesn’t beat Kaner on the first song, but he gets closer than Shawzy has all day, and the wide-eyed look of surprise he’s getting from nearly everyone is almost sweeter than victory.
Kaner’s face is a picture, stuck somewhere between disbelief and anger, scowling so hard he’s going to give himself wrinkles at seventeen. Jonny works up his douchiest smirk, lets it spread across his face as slow as possible, and wipes the tiny trickle of sweat from his temple. Kaner cocks an eyebrow and reaches for the button on the machine, jabbing at it until it lands on a song Jonny knows is an ass kicker, and then starting it up.
Jonny beats Kaner pretty soundly on that one, Shawzy yelping as Jonny’s score climbs, Kaner’s movements getting frantic next to him.
“Huh,” Jonny says, when the song ends and they’re both gasping for breath, Kaner leaned over with his hands on his knees. “I won.”
Kaner looks up, curls dripping in his eyes, and looks so eerily calm even while gulping air that Jonny worries he’s going to snap and throttle Jonny or something equally violent. Instead he tilts his head, pushes himself upright and goes for the button to choose a song.
Of course he picks Healing Vision. Too bad he doesn’t know that Jonny’s practiced that song the most, that he could probably do the half-steps and freezes in his freaking sleep. Jonny shakes out his legs, rolls his shoulders, and gets ready.
And then trounces Kaner by a margin so wide even he has trouble believing. The grades pop up on screen and the machine announces Jonny the winner, and there’s a moment of dead, stunned silence before their little gathered audience erupts into cheers.
“Holy shit, Kaner’s gonna kill him,” Shawzy says, voice awed, while Bollig and Saader clap Jonny on the back. Kaner has his head tilted again, watching Jonny, and his face is totally unreadable. Jonny wants to rub in his victory so badly, but instead he watches Kaner warily, accepting his praise mutely.
After a minute of that, Kaner’s face morphs into nonchalance, and he shrugs his shoulders. “Congrats,” he says, and sticks his hand out for Jonny to shake. Jonny does, hesitating a little before sliding his sweaty palm against Kaner’s, wondering if Kaner is going to hold on and use his other hand to sucker punch Jonny. He doesn’t, just shakes Jonny’s hand and then lifts his shirt to wipe his face.
He’s smiling when he drops the shirt, and peers around Jonny at Shawzy. “Wanna play pinball?” he asks, and Shawzy looks around, unsure.
“Uh, yeah. I guess,” Shawzy says, and follows Kaner to the bank of pinball machines.
Where Kaner proceeds to get the high score on the first machine he lays his hands on, grinning over his shoulder at Jonny.
Fucker.
*****
Since pinball machines are a little harder to come by than copies of DDR - even the cheapest used ones on craigslist are way more than he could ever afford - he’s relegated to getting to the arcade early to practice.
He also goes in on weekdays. It’s weird being in the arcade when it’s not a weekend, even though it’s summer and every day is basically the same. It just feels different. The light shining in through the skylights looks different, it seems quieter. Maybe it’s just the lack of his loudass, obnoxious friends running wild, but it’s more peaceful being at the arcade on a weekday.
Until the day he gets caught.
He’s rocking the Pirates of the Caribbean machine, concentrating on controlling his first multiball, when he hears the snort behind him. It’s distinctly, obviously Kaner, and Jonny drains all three of the little metal balls in succession, his fingers freezing on the flipper buttons.
“You hyper-competitive freak,” Kaner says, clearly relishing the moment. Jonny decides to ignore him for the moment, pulling the plunger back to release his next ball.
“What do you want, Kaner,” Jonny asks, keeping his tone as flat as possible. He’s bound and determined to get to six million points, which he’s never done before. It’s hard to concentrate with Kaner pressing against his side, shimmying between two machines to stare at Jonny. He holds the ball on one flipper, finger depressing the button, and arches his eyebrow.
“Are you seriously practicing pinball before lunch on a weekday just so you can beat me?” Kaner looks delighted at the prospect.
“You ever think maybe I just love pinball?” Jonny asks, and Kaner’s grin gets wider.
“You are such a loser,” Kaner says, but it doesn’t sound like an insult coming out of his mouth. It almost sounds like a term of endearment.
“Fuck off,” Jonny says, but there’s no heat behind it, and he goes back to his game. Kaner hangs out quietly, jammed between two machines and watching Jonny play.
“Not bad,” Kaner says, when Jonny’s drained his last ball and his score isn’t far off from the tenth spot on the high scores list. Kaner’s DOC is only up there once, but it’s third. Shawzy hasn’t made it at all. “Not good enough yet, though. It’s a shame not everyone can be as naturally talented as I am.”
His mouth is curled up as cockily as Jonny’s ever seen it, and Jonny just - he’s had enough. He reaches out and gets a fistful of Kaner’s shirt, hauling him forward until he’s bent almost in half over the pinball machine.
“Shut up,” Jonny says, looking for signs of protest. Kaner doesn’t look surprised, or disgusted, or anything Jonny was expecting. He looks nervous, maybe, but his eyes flick down to Jonny’s mouth right before his tongue darts out to lick his lips, and Jonny closes the space between them.
The arcade is still oddly quiet, the hum of the machines and the occasional ding or whistle from a game the only sounds, so the wet noises of their mouths moving together are loud in Jonny’s ears. He usually thinks those noises are kind of gross, but now, with Kaner breathing raggedly through his nose and his curls tickling Jonny’s forehead, he changes his mind about them.
They’re actually kind of hot.
Kaner pulls away eventually, groaning a little. Jonny realizes the machine must be digging kind of uncomfortable into Kaner’s legs, so he lets go of his shirt. It stays wrinkled where Jonny was clutching it, and Kaner straightens up, cheeks flushed and mouth red, and wiggles out from where he’d been standing.
“How long you been waiting to do that?” he asks, and his eyes are bright in the shitty arcade lighting. Jonny shrugs, wants to reach up to wipe the moistness from his lips but doesn’t, licking at it instead. Kaner goes redder still, and reaches out to tuck his fingers into the front pocket of Jonny’s shorts. “Never mind, don’t answer that,” he says, and tugs.
He drags him over to the Cruisin’ machines, the same ones they caught Bollig and Shawzy making out between countless times, and shoves him into the nook there, squeezing in after him. It’s a tight fit, but Kaner feels good pressed snugly against his front, one arm shoving between the game and Jonny’s back, his other hand sliding up Jonny’s chest.
“Now I can see the appeal,” Kaner says, looking around at the tiny space they’re crammed into, and then pushing up on his tiptoes to slide his lips against Jonny’s.
They could get caught at literally any moment. Another kid could find them, or one of the arcade workers. Also the arcade is kind of a gross place to make out, if Jonny thinks about it, kind of dirty and grimy. But he can’t really worry about that when Kaner is licking at his mouth, trying to get inside, and has a thigh flexed up against his hardening dick.
Kaner seems to be a natural talent at kissing, just like everything else. At least in this Jonny can be confident that they’re fairly equally matched, and the little noises Kaner’s making in his throat are proof enough. Jonny gets one hand in Kaner’s curls, pulling a little, and Kaner gasps against his mouth.
“Jesus, Jonny,” Kaner says, pulling back as much as their little nook will allow him. “We should go to my place. My parents are both at work, my sisters are all at camp.”
“Hm,” Jonny says, considering, working his tongue up under Kaner’s jaw. “Yeah, we could do that. Or,” he pauses to give Kaner’s skin a sharp nip, making Kaner gasp. “Or, you could play me at pinball.”
“Fuck you, I’ll kick your ass,” Kaner says, but his voice is thready and his hands are squeezing at Jonny’s sides.
“Put your money where your mouth is, Kaner,” Jonny says, and shoves Kaner out into the arcade.