Page 16 of The Riley Effect

“You know, my mom would be mad at me if she ever found out I didn’t reach your door in time to open it.”

Her eyes roll as she asks, “When did we time-travel back to the 1950s? It’s a nice gesture, but I can open the door myself.”

“I know you can,” I tell her, “but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to have someone do it for you. You deserve to have all the little things, Ivy.”

I decide to test my luck and lace my fingers through the hand that is already in mine.

As innocent as the gesture may seem, it feels like it’s a defining moment in whatever is going on between us. To my surprise her hand relaxes in mine. My skin heats at her touch. My clammy hands don’t seem to bother her because she takes the first step toward the bar, practically dragging me with her. The view of her swaying hips has me in no rush to make it to the restaurant’s door.

“What should we play first?” I ask after giving my name to the hostess.

Her eyes run over the room full of machines and neon glowing screens. There’s a kid banging against the side of the claw machine because the stuffed bunny she won is suspended by one foot but not falling into the space where she can grab it. Ivy’s eyes glide by her and light up when she notices the dartboard is free. I’ve never played a game of darts where we actually kept score, so Ivy gives me a quick rundown of how the scoring works before she hands me a set of darts.

“That doesn’t seem too hard,” I say confidently.

Have you ever said something you thought you could back up, and then you just ended up embarrassing yourself… Well, that’s what is currently happening. I can’t hit the dart board to save my life, and when I do, it is for points that I already have.

“I have never seen someone so bad at darts in my life,” Ivy says through a

throaty laugh.

She ends the game with a bull’s eye. I grind my teeth because I hate losing. I know some guys would go on these kinds of dates and let the girl win, but I’m too competitive for that shit. And Ivyseems like the type of girl who would be upset if I handed her an easy victory.

“All right, Angel,” I say, brushing off her comment. “We’ve only played one game. We have a long way to go.”

By the time we sit for dinner, I’ve redeemed myself from that horrendous darts game. I’m up two to one, with wins in Pac-Man and Skee-Ball. We decided to save each of our favorite arcade games for after dinner. It shouldn’t surprise me that her favorite game is Pop-A-Shot because mine is Air Hockey.

Ivy is unlike any girl I’ve been on a date with. I shouldn’t be shocked when she orders a burger and fries and then asks if I thought the Rangers, my favorite hockey team, has a shot at winning the Stanley Cup this season. Now we’re debating who’s the best basketball player of all time. We’ve also talked about what it was like for her growing up in a small town compared to my childhood in the city. She gushed about her niece and nephew while I shared Byron’s most embarrassing childhood stories. The conversation is so easy that I don’t notice we are both done with our burgers.

“You understand that Micahel Jordan won every NBA Finals series he played in. That right there makes him the greatest of all time.”

“Jalen,” my name comes out in an annoyed tone. “You were barely walking when Jordan played professional basketball.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate his game. I mean, you’ve had to have seenThe Last Dance.”

“Of course,” she says with a nod.

“If that was the only footage I saw of his career, I’d still say he was the best. I’m not saying I hate LeBron, but his versionofSpace Jamsucked, and he should have known better than to touch a classic.”

I sip on my beer and watch her stew over my movie review. I discreetly pull my wallet out of my pocket not wanting to make a big show of it. When my eyes meet Ivy’s again, it looks like she wants to ask me something. She’s pulling the sleeves of her blue top into balls in her fist. It’s the first time since we sat down to eat that there’s any kind of awkward silence.

A little nervous, I push my leftover fries around my plate a little. “You clearly want to ask me something, Angel.”

Her eyes snap back to mine. “It’s not a question. I am just deciding if I can take your sports opinions seriously if you make them based on movies.” I get a quick look into her coffee-colored eyes before they retreat to her sleeves which are clenched deeper into her fists.

I know that’s not what she was deep in thought about. It wouldn’t have caused that sadness in her eyes. I normally would find this such a turn-off because I’m just here for a fun time. I don’t do emotions, but tonight I have this urge to push her for more. I don’t do that. Ivy seems like she is having fun tonight, and I don’t want her shutting down on me.

After a moment, she peeks up at me from under her lashes. I flash her a sincere smile and opt to change the subject and start a one-sided game of twenty questions to ease us back to the easy-flowing conversation that we’ve had all night. Ivy tries to grab the bill from the waitress before she can set it on the glossy high-top table. But I can hear my Dad now telling me that it doesn’t matter what your date says. You should always be the one to pay for a first date. I pull out my credit card and hand it to the waitress before she even sets the bill on the table.

She lets out a small breath as her shoulders drop.

“Thank you for dinner, Jalen.”

“Of course, Ivy,” I say as I lean back in my seat. I want to soak in her beautiful mocha-colored eyes.

Once I get my credit card back, we head to the arcade to finish our competition. The Pop-A-Shot machine is currently taken, so I head towards the air hockey table and enter a dollar’s worth of quarters into the slots. The puck drops out on my side of the table. I run my hand over the small holes that pepper the table, waiting for the pressure to build and the air to blow.

I place the puck down when I notice that Ivy is distracted, trying to find something in her purse. I push the puck toward the goal at the opposite end of the table and score. Ivy tosses her chapstick back into her purse completely unaware that we started the game. I watch her eyes flash to the scoreboard.

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