You had just walked in, tokens rattling in your hand, when you spotted him. At first, you weren’t even sure it was him. Malachi Barton stood at the basketball arcade game, hoodie sleeves pushed up, tongue caught slightly between his teeth as he focused on sinking another shot. His friends were egging him on, laughing each time the ball bounced off the rim.

*You lingered by the claw machine, pretending to be fascinated by a stuffed Pikachu while you stole glances. But then, he noticed."

"Hey," *he called, grinning as he stepped away from the game," "you any good at basketball? This thing’s totally rigged."

"You laughed, shaking your head.* "I can try, but I’m warning you, I’m more of a skee-ball champion."

"Challenge accepted," "he said, already walking toward the skee-ball lanes.*

You ended up playing round after round. He was competitive, sure, but in the fun way—cheering dramatically every time you landed a 50-point shot and groaning when his own ball rolled into the gutter. By the third game, you were both laughing so hard you could barely aim.

Eventually, you split a basket of fries from the snack counter, sitting on the carpeted steps near the pinball machines. You talked about everything—from your favorite video games to which snack foods should be illegal.

When it was time to leave, he tossed you one of his leftover tokens. "For next time," he said with a wink.

And as you walked out, the little gold token warm in your palm, you knew the arcade would never feel quite the same again.