I laughed so hard I had to lean against her shoulder. She tried not to laugh, failed, and let me remain there. No one knew us. No one scored compatibility. We were simply two women losingfive dollars beneath bad lighting. On the way out, the teenager handed Amy a tiny plastic ring from the prize bowl because the machine had eaten our last token. It was bright blue and shaped like a star. She examined it.
“The retail value is probably less than four cents.”
“Put it on.”
“This creates misleading visual implications.”
“On your index finger, Price.”
She put it on. The ring was too large and immediately slipped sideways. Amy kept it there anyway. Before we left, she divided the remaining prize tickets into two equal stacks, discovered we had an odd number, and handed me the extra without comment. I gave it back. She returned it. We repeated the exchange until the teenager behind the counter said, “You know those have no cash value, right?”
Amy put the final ticket in my shirt pocket. “Then the dispute is closed.”
Outside the arcade, the rain had stopped. We stood beneath a streetlight, the city warm and wet around us. Amy faced me.
“This was inefficient.”
“Did you hate it?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“The dessert choice lacked sufficient comparison.”
She said it while looking at the wet pavement, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her.
“You ate half of mine.”
“Your selection was better.”
“Evidence for spontaneity.”
“One successful result does not establish a pattern.”
I moved closer. Amy did not step away.
“Can I kiss you?”
Permission still mattered.
“Yes.”
I touched her face. The kiss was slow. Nothing like the launch event. Nothing like the finish chute. No adrenaline. No audience. Just Amy’s mouth beneath mine and her hand settling at my waist. I kissed her until the city softened around us. When we separated, she stayed close.
“That was better than the first one,” I said.
“The sample conditions were different.”
“Romantic.”
She kissed me again. Shorter. Decisive.
“Stop analyzing.”
I smiled against her mouth.
“Bossy.”
