.:20:.
Faith’s P.O.V.I woke up and looked at my clock. 11:17 am. Oh joy. That explains why I’m so hungry. I jumped off my bed and walked out to the living room. Zach was lying, upside down, on the couch, looking at the TV, which was playing ‘Avengers.’ When I walked in, he looked up at me and smiled.
“Hey,” he said. I smiled. “No offense, but you look like death.” I chuckled.
“Let’s see,” I said. “I just got about seven hours of sleep more than I usually do, and I’m starving.” He nodded. I sighed. “I don’t wanna fix anything. Go get food?” He shrugged. “Good!” I skipped over to the couch, grabbed his arm, and pulled him up. “Come on. We’re going to go out.” He was confused.
“Out where?” he asked. I laughed.
“We haven’t been on a date yet,” I said, “so we are gonna spend the entire day alone. No interruptions.” He looked skeptical.
“Until we have to go to the theatre to warm up,” he said.
“Until we have to go to the theatre to warm up.”
⇔timeskip brought to you by our Jacob Marley going Scottish in A Christmas Carol⇔
“No, that’s not how you play Pinball!” I exclaimed.
“Shut up,” Zach said. “I’m focusing.” I sighed.
“Have you never played Pinball before?” He shook his head. “Never?” He shook his head again. The ball fell in the drain again, and he was done. “Okay, okay. Step aside, Rookie.” He laughed.
“Did you just call me ‘Rookie?’” he asked.
“Yup,” I said, popping the ‘p’. “Watch and learn.” Who knows how long I played, but I earned three replays, and overall destroyed him.
“How are you so good at this?” he asked. “Did you just own a Pinball machine as a kid or something?” I thought.
“Yeah.” He nodded.
“Okay,” he said. He doubled back. “Wait, you did own a pinball machine?” I nodded, smiling.
“I don’t know when our parents got it,” I said, “but our family already had it when me and Sky were born.” He nodded, and smiled.
“Look over there,” he said, pointing to the corner of the arcade. “Basketball.” A smirk grew on my face.
“Ooh, you’re gonna regret that.” We ran over and put two quarters into the machine. I won’t mention the amount of trash talk that went down, but the score ended up being Zach: 18, Faith: 36.
“I’ve played Basketball since 1st grade.” He nodded, and I looked around the room. “Hey, Zach! Come here!” I grabbed his arm and pulled him over to a photo booth.
“Oh, no,” he said. I nodded.
“Oh, yes!” I pushed him inside and we sat down on the bench. “Okay, so it’s $4, so you pay $2 and I’ll pay $2.” We each pulled out $2 and paid the machine.
“Which one should we do?” Zach asked. I looked at our format options.
“Let’s do . . . Under the Mistletoe,” I said. He smiled and nodded. We picked the format and leaned back. “What should we do?” He shrugged. “Okay, first we should just do smiling.” He nodded, and I leaned my head on his shoulder as he put his arm around my shoulders. The booth counted down, and the picture was taken.
“Now . . . let’s do funny,” Zach said. I nodded and placed my hands over his eyes. “Wait, what are you . . . oh.”
“Uh huh, now shut up.” Picture taken. I thought for a second. “Ooh! Ooh!”
“You’re excited,” he said. “It’s always interesting when you’re excited.”
“Okay, this is gonna be weird for a second,” I said. He nodded.
“When is it not weird with you?” he asked. I shrugged and sat on his lap. “How is that weird?” I shrugged.
“We’ve been dating for literally a day,” I said. “I don’t know what’s weird for you!” He nodded. I put my arm around his shoulders, and he put his around my waist as the picture was taken. “What else should we do?” He thought for a second.
“Okay,” he said, “I have an idea . . . but you can’t know until the picture is taken.” I was skeptical, but nodded. As the countdown reached 2, Zach put his hand on my cheek, and as it reached 1, he kissed me. Snap. Picture taken. He went to pull away, but I grabbed the back of his head and kissed him longer. When we pulled apart, we were both smiling.
“Let’s go see how they turned out,” I said. He nodded, and we got out of the photo booth. When the strips were printed, I picked one up and looked the pictures over. They were all amazing.
“Which one do you think turned out the best?” he asked. I looked at them again and pointed to the last one.
“That one,” I said. “I like that one the best.” He smiled, and I pecked him on the lips before we walked away.
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