Gareth immediately releases me.
My brother hops out of the cage, grinning ear to ear as if that was the best experience of his entire life. He slides his hands through his hair and lets out a loud “Woooo! That was awesome!”
I’m the last to get out, and like the gentleman he is, Gareth holds his hand out for me to take, steadying me as I step down. I look up at him, his hand staying in mine longer than necessary, and something unspoken passes between us. “You okay?”
“I think my soul left my body, but it was oddly exhilarating,” I tell him, my heart still racing.
“You guys coming or what?” Dylan yells, and Gareth drops my hand like it burned him.
Gareth hurries behind my brother, catching up with him. Their strides match as they walk down the aisle with some games and a few food vendors.
Dylan veers to the hot dog stand. “No line!”
“Ew, seriously, Dyl? There’s no way they’d pass a health inspection.” I scrunch my nose. I’m not a vegetarian, but hot dogs seriously gross me out, and this booth looks like it hasn’t been cleaned since the early 2000s.
“Either of you want one?” he asks over his shoulder.
“No,” Gareth and I ring out in unison.
A few seconds later, we’re leisurely walking past the different game booths while my brother shovels the hot dog down faster than what should be humanly possible.
Everything is packed full of people—annoyed men trying to win prizes for their screaming kids, their wives looking annoyed while they wait by the stroller. People I recognize from school. We run into several guys from Gareth’s team, and he stops to bro-hug every single one.
Smacking his dirty hands against his jeans, Dylan comes to a stop in front of the Fish Bowl Toss booth, where the prizes are live goldfish. He lines up behind the family who’s on their last ball and turns to us.
“Oh, c’mon, this game is so inhumane,” I whine in protest, hating seeing the poor fish in containers that are entirely too small. They all look so sad.
“The sign says ‘play til you win’,” Dylan argues, whipping his wallet out as the family in front of us steps away. “It’ll be fun.” He gives the guy at the booth a five dollar bill.
“Up to ten tries,” Gareth adds, reading the rest of the sign my brother chose to ignore.
“Whatever, I got this.” Dylan scoffs, taking the ping-pong balls from the booth attendant’s outstretched hand.
“Dylan,” I protest. Resting my hands on my hips, I send him a pointed look.
He promptly ignores me.
“Here, why don’t you try to win one. Then at least you can take one home and know it’s being loved and cared for the way it deserves.” Gareth hands the booth attendant money.
“No, Gareth, it’s okay—” But he’s already passing me three ping-pong balls.
With a defeated sigh, I eyeball the fish bowls, deciding which to aim for first.
Gareth’s heart was in the right place, even if this game is a scam centered on animal cruelty.
The first ball I toss bounces off the rim, landing with a small bounce across the fake turf strip the attendants standing on.
“Dang it! Missed all three. Can I try again, bro?” Dylan’s voice rings out, calling to the attendant, but I don’t look at my idiot brother. Instead, I let another ball fly.
I miss completely, hitting the very last fishbowl in the back right corner.
“Want some help?” Gareth’s smooth voice embraces me like a hug, his warm breath skating across my cheek as he leans in close.
My gaze cuts to Dylan, who’s entirely too engrossed in his mission to win the game, and I nod my head yes.
Gareth adjusts his stance behind me, his fingers sliding down my wrist until his hand rests on top of mine. Lifting our arms, he positions them, angling my arm back just slightly before giving it the softest press forward, letting the ball fly.
The ball lands directly in the middle fishbowl with a soft splash.
