Page 63 of Haunt the Mall

Where was Victor?

I gasped and scrambled to sit partway up, looking to my right for my spider man.

He laid next to me, shock and awe painting his face. Beams of light from above caressed his splayed figure. He turned from the coffin trap door to me. His arm was out.

My heart rammed against my ribcage. Had he reached for me?

“I didn’t signal for them to stop,” he whispered.

“Neither did I,” I said.

Oh shit. Oh shit; what did this mean?

I strained to reach him, but the balls kept giving out from under me, making it impossible to progress.

We huffed and tried to swim towards one another. Instead, we rolled.

Wait. We were in a literal ball pit. A black and silver one. This was our long drop with a short stop?

Our gazes met, our fingers brushed, and inexplicably, we laughed.

A strange euphoria hit hard enough that tears streamed down our faces. I touched my chest, willing my lungs to open and let in this magnificence. I really thought I was done back there. This was such a relief.

The more he wheezed and cackled, the more I saw a future with him beyond our spongy grave.

I hadn’t just fallen with Victor, I was falling for him. And now, I had the strange feeling he was falling for me.

28

Midway

Victor had no problem holding my hand, going up to the food stall vendors, and saying things like, “One for my zombie wife, please.”

I laughed and knocked into his arm. This was ridiculous. And undoubtedly the best date I’d ever been on.

Even when he bit into a tamale and it oozed out its corn husk and onto a paper plate, I found the way he froze and glanced my way fucking adorable.

“Nice.” I grinned–and he did too, his cheeks full of food.

He was undone in such a different way than when we’d hooked up on our last date.

“Look at that.” He licked his lips and gestured to the demonstration of a pin-knocking midway game. “Magnets. I’d bet you anything.”

The ghoulish game attendant touched something right before a player threw the ball. Most of the pins went down, but not all of them. That center-left one was looking pretty sturdy.

“Even the dead are dishonest.” I tutted and gestured to other booths. “Do you think any of the games are fair? What about darts? Oh, unless they use dull ones.”

“Some places under inflate the balloons so the plastic’s harder to pierce. The big ones are stretched so they’re easier to pop.” He glanced at my chest and swallowed. “Did you want to play anything?”

“No.” Jinx couldn’t use any of the prizes as toys, and I certainly didn’t need them.

He leaned close, his voice rumbling down to my bones. “I have tricks, if you want to win.”

I rolled my lip between my teeth.

I did want to play. With him.

We should do one more date-thing first, though. “What about ax-throwing?”