I smack the puck back, a wild ricochet that bounces off the walls three times and somehow shoots straight into his goal.
Luca blinks and I whoop loudly.
“Beginner’s luck.” Luca cracks his neck.
I shrug innocently. “It’s calledskill, sweetheart.”
That earns me a low laugh, the kind that warms my chest. He resets the puck and we’re off again.
We fall into this ridiculous rhythm. Him launching sniper-precision shots that I block with pure panic, me sending chaotic gremlin shots that luck their way into his goal. Both of us shouting “No! No! No!” whenever the puck rockets a little too close to our goal.
Luca slams a victory shot into my goal, throwing his arms up, and yells, “I AM THE MASTER COMMANDER!”
I laugh as families around us shoot him weird looks.
We fallinto a spiral of noise, neon lights, and laughter, going from one game to the next.
Luca drags me to the first open machine he sees, snatching two mallets like a man preparing for war.
“Watch and learn,” he declares.
He whacks exactly zero moles. I smack three in a row.
Luca pauses mid-swing. “You’re cheating.”
“How do you cheat at Whack-A-Mole?”
He misses another by an inch. “This is slander. Defamation. Character assassination.”
He throws the mallet at the machine in defeat.
We stop at the claw machine next, packed with plushes.
“Aren’t these usually rigged?” I glance at an eager Luca shoving tokens in, then handing me the bucket.
“Only if you’re not a master.” He cracks his knuckles, rolling his neck and shoulders. “I’ve trained for this.”
He immediately fails. The claw slips. The plush drops.
He tries again.
And again.
And… again.
Luca’s muttering under his breath, forehead pressed to the glass like he’s praying to the claw machine gods.
“You know,” I say gently, “we don’t have to?—”
The claw closes, lifts, and drops the fluffy white bunny plush straight into the chute.
Luca whips around with the biggest grin I’ve ever seen. “First try! Never doubted myself for a second.”
He presents the bunny with a dramatic bow.
I take and hug it to my chest. “You’re ridiculous. Thank you, I’m not sure this bunny was worth all those tokens.”
“And yet,” he says, tapping my nose, “you’re smiling. That is worthallthe tokens.”
