Page 50 of Daydream

I wrap my arm across her shoulders and tug her closer to my body, kissing the top of her head as we walk toward the first game. “I’ll help you win the biggest one.”

WHENIWAS GROWING UP,my parents taught me that it’s more valuable to be the person who helps someone achieve their goals than to be the person who achieves it for them.

I’ve always understood that mindset, and my moms reminded me of it often to help me fight my natural instinct to just do things myself because it was quicker and easier. However, as I watch Halle fail for the fifth time, it’s getting harder and harder to remember that I should be helping her achieve her goal of winning, and not winning for her.

“I see you weren’t exaggerating,” I say carefully.

Halle looks at me over her shoulder, scowling, before she proceeds to launch the ball at the target again. When the ball goes through the center of the two clown faces she’s supposed to be knocking down, she curses loudly. This is the fourth game where we’ve had this very specific problem: Halle’s athleticism.

“These games are rigged, y’know,” she mumbles, stomping in my direction and resting her forehead against the center of my chest. “Not even you can beat a rigged system.”

“I don’t think your ball is getting close enough to anything to claim you’re being conned. Do you want me to have a go?”

I cup the sides of her neck with my hands and she looks up at me. “I don’t want to give them any more money. They’re scamming us. Let’s go get scammed by someone else.”

When I let go of her neck, her hand slides into mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and I think back to what Anastasia said about never holding her hand. She’s right, but I think the main difference between Halle and Anastasia is that I’ve never been attracted to Anastasia. And now I know Halle likes it, too.

We stop in front of a ring toss game and I can immediately tell that this isn’t going to go well. I can’t watch this. “Let me help,” I say as I place myself behind her. “You need to throw it like this.”

I rearrange her positioning until she’s at least close to having a chance. “I really want that massive duck.”

I blink hard because I definitely thought she said something else.

On the wall is a stuffed duck the size of an average child and I can’t escape the thought of it sitting in the corner of Halle’s room while we sleep at night. Thankfully, Halle isn’t good at this game, either. When her turn is over, she looks disappointed. More than when she was bad at any of the other games. Why do I care so much?

“Can we go again, please?” I ask the guy.

“But I’m so bad,” Halle groans.

“You’re fucking terrible. You’re in carnival time-out—stand to the side.”

It isn’t even hard, and the more rings that land on the bottles, the more excited she gets, which results in her cheering me on.

“Please stop shouting.”

“Sorry, sorry. Go, Henry,” she whispers. “You can do it.”

She’s right and I do, leading me to say something I never thought I’d ever have to say. “We’ll have the massive duck, please.”

“My hero.” She accepts the duck and can only just fit her arm around it. “I’m going to call him Henry.”

“Please don’t.” She looks so happy it makes me ache. “What else do you want?”

We retrace our steps, going back to every counter we walked away from empty-handed. I shoot hoops, guns, balls, beanbags, and kick soccer balls until you can’t see Halle under the pile of stuffed animals. Halle’s staring at me like I personally made them for her.

There’s a massive cow tucked under my arm and two bears in my hands as we find a bench at the end of the pier. I take a seat and Halle unloads her haul beside me to find herself seatless. “Didn’t think this through,” she mutters, trying to stack them to make room.

I hand her the bears and pat my lap, indicating for her to sit. She looks at her pile of prizes then back at me and opts to sit on my knee. “This is my favorite day since I moved to LA. I can’t decide if that’s sweet or sad. I think I’m edging toward sweet. Thank you, Henry.”

“Thank you for not making me watch you continue to lose.”

Her arm rests across my shoulders and she looks straight at me. Her face is close to mine and I concentrate on her mouth as she talks. “Look, I know hockey is your thing or whatever, but… have you ever considered a professional career in carnival games? Because you’re really annoyingly good. And don’t tell me you’re good at everything, because not every guy can just walk up to a game and win it.”

My eyes meet hers. “If he wanted to, he would.”

“That’s what the word on the street is.”

I rest one of my hands on her thigh and she leans in to me as we listen to the ocean beneath the pier. The one thing about dates with Halle versus every other date I’ve been on is I don’t want them to end. With everyone else, I’ve looked forward to going home—alone or to hook up. With Halle, even though it’s not strictly a real date, I want it to keep going.

---