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Eloise nodded, and Claude handed her a card. “Have at it, kiddo.” She hugged him again. “Does my record still exist?”
Kiel looked from Eloise to Claude, who let out a gruff chuckle and shook his head. “There isn’t a soul in this town who will ever beat your record.”
Eloise beamed and reached for Kiel’s hand.
“What’s your record?”
She said nothing as they came to the section of Skee-Ball machines. She stood in front of the game and pointed to the wall.
“On this day,” Kiel read. “Eloise Harris scored nine hun—” his mouth dropped open, and he looked at her. “You scored nine hundred points?”
She beamed, bit her lower lip and nodded.
“Wh—how?”
“I’m a pro.” She blew on her knuckles and whipped them on her shirt.
This feat blew Kiel’s mind. “How?” he asked again.
“Practice, I guess. I don’t know. One of my friends challenged me, saying I couldn’t hit one hundred, so I came in every day after school for a month and only aimed for the corners. Then, one day, I hit those corners nine times. I couldn’t believe it. Neither could Claude. He had that sign made the next day and a huge ceremony for the unveiling.”
“Wow! I had no idea I was dating a local celebrity.”
“Is that what we’re doing, Kiel?”
He nodded. “It’s what I’d like to do.”
“Me, too.” She rose and kissed him. While chaste, it held promise.
Eloise held up a card. “Unlimited plays.”
“Do we get tickets?”
She laughed. “Yep.”
“Thank God,” he said. “I really want some gum.”
For the next few hours, they played every game they could, and repeated on many of them. Each game turned into a competition between them, with Kiel winning most except at Skee-Ball. Eloise was a pro, and Kiel joked she should join a circuit—if one existed—and if one didn’t, he’d create one for her.
“I have plans for your prowess,” he told after she had beaten him, yet again. “We’re going on a world tour.”
“Are we now?”
“Yep. We’re going to hustle arcades like basketball players hustle Venice beach.”
Eloise laughed hard.
On their way back to her scooter, his phone chimed. He took it out of his pocket and sighed.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s my sister. My mom wants me home for dinner.”
“You should go,” she told him as she took her helmet from the console under her seat.
Keil’s heart dropped. “Really?” His voice was quiet, and he tried not to let the hurt he felt come through.
“Yes, of course. Family time is important.”
