Page 9 of Marginally Yours
"Yeah, you got me there," I laugh.
"Okay, so we've got the trail," she says, holding up a finger. "The gazebo, the Mexican place, the bookstore, and the dog park." She holds up another finger for each. "Two more. What's next?"
"Six is honestly everyone’s favorite. After the tacos, of course. It's only a block from the bookstore, too. It's called-"
"Strikers!" she shouts, and then clamps a hand over her mouth. I laugh and confirm her guess. "Sorry," she mumbles. "I've seen the sign, and I want to go but I didn't want to go alone. Ilovebowling."
"Well, I have excellent news for you. My cousin owns Strikers." Her face lights up and all I can think iswhat a great way to go blind, so I decide to push for a few more kilowatts. "I bet if I asked him nicely and promised to reset the machines when we're done, he'd let us come in after closing one night for a couple games." I glance at her again, and her eyes are wide.
"Yes, please," she practically begs, as if that wasn't my idea of the best night ever.
"Okay, I'll see if I can work my magic,” I promise. “Now, the last wonder is mostly a spring and fall thing, but they're open all year. There's this farm that used to just sell to the local grocery store, but they decided to open their own store on the property like 10 years ago. They have fresh fruit and baked goods and packaged meat in the store, all grown and butchered on the farm. In the spring, they do these 'pick your own' events, where you can come buy a basket and pick your own blueberries or strawberries or whatever is in season. Then, in the fall, they do pumpkins and sunflowers and apples. It got really popular in the last few years, so now they do tours through the fields, and this meet and greet with the cowsthing."
Oh,thatcaught her attention.
"Devon, are you shitting me? Can we pet the cows?" I can tell she's lived in cities for most of her life by the level of shock in her question. I think it's the first time I've heard her swear, too, and it gives me a twisted sense of satisfaction.
"We can, in fact, pet the cows," I laugh, and I imagine this is what she looks like on Christmas morning. "You can take pictures with them, too. They've got an old Polaroid camera, and they'll take your picture for a dollar."
"That's it," she says with finality. "We're going."
"Anything you want," I murmur as we pull into the parking lot.
Chapter Six
"So, I guess this place is like the eighth wonder, huh?" Callie walks in front of me, staring up at the neon sign in front of the arcade.
"Yeah, I guess so," I chuckle. When we get to the building, I reach over her head to push the door open, and we step into the lobby. I point a finger back and forth between the two glass doors in front of us. "What do you want to do first? Food or games?"
She hums, tapping a finger to her chin. "I think we should work up an appetite first. Unless you're hungry now?" I'm starving, but I could probably subsist on her company alone at this point, so I gesture to the door with ARCADE on it.
As soon as I push the door open, we're blasted with a barrage of sounds, from people to music to electronic game beeps. Callie is practically vibrating with excitement already, her eyes darting from game to game, and I realize she probably has no clue just how loud it is. I touch her elbow, and she draws her attention back to me.
"Hey, it's really loud in here, so I might not be able to hear youvery well," I tell her. "If you can't get my attention or can't find me, just text me." She nods and follows me to the quarter machine. I pluck a plastic cup from the top of the machine and hand it to her, pouring some quarters into it as they come out of the machine. She's absolutely beaming, eyes darting around at all the different games. I fill my cup with the remaining quarters and she's still watching me, unmoving, so I wave my free hand in a wide sweep.
"After you," I mouth, and she wraps her hand around my wrist with much more strength than I anticipated before bouncing off to one of the games she had been eyeing. There are a lot of newer games here, but this one is a classic, all 8-bit pixels and high-pitched beeps. It's a one player game, so I hold her cup for her and watch. I'm not sure which of us is having a better time, honestly.
She finishes her first game and manages to make it on the high score list. At the very bottom, but still pretty impressive. She types in CAL as I hold out my hand, another quarter in my palm. "Do you want a turn?" she asks, taking a step back.
"Oh no, don't mind me," I tell her, my mouth twisting into a sly look. "Just enjoying the view."
Her cheeks flush and she turns back to the game to hide it, but the illuminated game screen just makes it more obvious. She must realize that, because she shoots me a quick look of indignation before swiping the coin from my hand without meeting my eyes and plays another round.
Two hours later, we've played almost every game in the arcade. I’m honestly impressed by her arcade skills. We both got a few high scores on different games and definitely worked up an appetite. I'm about to suggest that we go grab some food when a voice from behind us calls out my name. I spin and find the voice is attached to Brendan, a friend from high school who I barely talk to anymore.
Actually, “friend” is probably a little generous. He's always been that cocky, good ol' boy type, but he was much more tolerable when we were teenagers. He's a whole adult these days, with a blue-collar job and a wife and kids. No time for fun shit like this anymore. At least, that’s what he tells anyone who will listen to him bitch. Yet here he is.
"Hey, man," I greet him, plastering a polite smile on my face and waving. "How have you been?" He takes a swig from a bottle of what I assume is the cheapest beer they sell here. I glance at the sign on the wall behind him stating "No Alcohol Outside of Dining Area" and back, but his unobservant ass doesn't notice. Not that I expect him to.
"Oh, I'm great," he shouts over the noise. "Had a night off from the family so I hit up Jay and we came out here. He's around here somewhere."
I nod knowingly, as if I have any fucking clue what it's like to need a "night off from the family". He claps me on the shoulder like he's a wise older man and not someone I once paid a nickel to eat a rock. His eyes dart behind me to Callie and I can already see his wheels turning so I grab her hand and tug her to my side.
"This is my," I start, and realize I don't want to call her my 'friend' because that's not generous enough, but I don't want to call her something more and freak her out. His lecherous gaze drifts down her body and back up, not quite making it to her face before he stalls. "Uh, this is Callie."
He's still staring at her chest and I'm thirty seconds from punching him in the throat.
"She just moved here. I'm showing her around town. Callie, this is Brendan. We went to school together." His eyes finally make their way back up to her face.
