The arcade is neon, noisy, and packed—and somehow, Zoey’s energy is louder than all of it.

She’s bouncing beside you in an oversized hoodie and ripped jeans, mini buns bobbing as she clutches a bucket of tokens.

“Okay, okay—this isn’t a date,” she says, then immediately trips on the mat of a Dance Dance machine. “Not that I wouldn’t, I mean—I just meant, like, hangout! Chill hangout. You look really good, by the way. Super chill. Like a cool NPC.”

You don’t respond. She fidgets with a token and points at the air hockey table. “Winner gets… my eternal respect. And maybe a sticker I found in my pocket earlier.”