Page 56 of Taking It To Overtime

“You did.” He agrees, “See? Skill.”

He wins on the next round, not surprising given the perfect placement of the other four balls, and his eyes are shining and he’s grinning at her and she’s not sure she’s ever felt this floaty before. Like if he wasn’t right there, keeping her in place with his gravitational pull, she’d fly away like a helium balloon.

“Switch seats with me.” He whispers when the attendant isn’t looking. And then raises his voice to yell, “She’s got it!” As she slides onto his stool.

The attendant ambles over to check the balls, eyeing them with a look that says he knows this wasn’t her work, but he hands them a ticket anyway and gestures toward the back of the booth.

“Pick a prize from the bottom shelf or play again.”

Honey brown eyes hold hers and Robbie says, “We’ll play again.”

Three rounds, and two wins later, they’re standing in front of the prize counter and she’s eyeing the stuffed toys and inflatables with interest. With three tickets, she can pick anything from the third shelf or lower. It’s all generic fair prizes, but she’s never won anything before, or had anyone winforher, and she can’t decide between a solitary fluffy pink monkey andan inflatable guitar. Sleeping on the bottom shelf is a cream-colored golden retriever, snuffling softly as it dreams in the shade.

“A puppy,” she says, pushing out her bottom lip at the sweet sight. She wants a dog more than anything, but her mom’s allergic, so it’s not in the cards. “Do you think they’ll let me pet him?”

“Made your choice yet?” The attendant asks in a monotone voice, barely glancing at either of them.

“Anything below shelf three?” Robbie asks, and the attendant nods, looking at their nails. “Great. We’ll take the dog.”

The attendant rolls their eyes.

“Obviously Creamsicle isn’t an option.”

Robbie grins. “How was I supposed to know? You said anything below shelf three. Pink monkey please.”

He hands it to her as they wander away from the tent. The toy is soft in her hands and she hugs it close to her chest. The air smells like kettle corn and fall and children in costumes stumble all around them brandishing balloon swords. This moment, right here, might be the happiest she’s ever been.

A tiny girl in an oversized princess costume shrieks as a little boy smacks her with his sword. Out of her hands tumbles a purple monkey, directly into a mud puddle. Her shrieks turn to wails. A harried father picks up the stuffed prize and tries to wipe it clean, but the tears keep coming.

“It’s diiiiiiirty,” the little girl manages between sobs. “No, no, no, no, nooooo.”

It takes a quick glance around the farm to realize that there are no more monkeys available, even as the little girl’s tears get louder.

“Hang on,” she says to Robbie, making her way toward the distraught child. She crouches down, smiling to put the little girlat ease, and holds out her own prize. “I know it’s not purple, but would pink be okay?”

A few hiccups, a sniffle, and the little girl reaches for the toy, a hint of a smile on her trembling mouth. Then she pulls the stuffy in tight, hugging it to her sequined dress.

“Thank you,” the tiny child wipes away a tear. “You won’t miss her?”

Vera shrugs, looking back at the boy whose gift she just gave away. “Don’t worry,” she tells the girl. “I think she’d much rather go home with you. Can you take good care of her for me?”

The child nods. “Does she have a name?”

“What do you think we should name her?”

They both study the hot pink monkey. “Rosie?”

“That’s a perfect name.” She gets to her feet as the girl’s dad mouths his thanks. “Have a good rest of your day,” she says, stepping back up to the teenage hockey star watching the exchange.

“Sorry I gave your present away,” she says as he reaches down to wrap their hands together again.

“Vera,” his voice is low, serious, “you have the biggest heart of anyone I know. I owe you another prize, though. Tell me what you want.”

She looks up into his adorable face, feeling warm straight through to her core.

“You don’t have to,” she tries to protest, and he shakes his head.

“I do, though.” He pulls their joined hands together, kissing the back of hers while she tries to keep breathing. “What kind of first date would this be if I sent you home empty-handed?”

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