I add a smiling emoji and send it to him.
Devlin and I go to the car to put away my bow and trophy, then return to the fair. A booth to our left is playing a loud, cheery tune, and has a game where you throw three beanbags. If you hit the right targets, you get a prize based on the number of points. The grand prize is a giant purple unicorn with a yellow horn, which looks super cool. But to get it, you need to hit the smallest target three times, and I’ve never been good enough with beanbags to win it. And unlike archery, it isn’t something I want to set up in the backyard and practice.
“Want it?” Devlin asks.
“Want what?”
“You know what. You’re staring at that unicorn. I can win it for you.” He sounds casually confident.
“No, it’s okay.” The last time a guy said he’d win me a prize, things didn’t end well. He didn’t win anything and got frustrated. And the rest of the day was ruined because he would not get over it. He later blamed me for not winning because I told him we should forget the game and get going. But spending over thirty bucks at a booth is too much, if you ask me. The prizes are never worth that much.
“Ah, let’s give it a shot.”
Oh boy. Devlin has a rock-star ego, so if he doesn’t win, he might not react well. Maybe I should look around for an easier game for him to try later. There’s a “catch an apple with a basket” game on the other side of the fair. Nobody loses that one.
He hands the booth operator some money and gets the bags. He misses the first shot, then the second…then the third.
Oh, no. It would’ve been better if he’d hit at least one. I try not to cringe. Be supportive, Becca!
“Okay, so much for the warmup.” Devlin swings his arms back and forth a few times.
I exhale, bracing myself. He obviously isn’t going to just laugh off the result and move on. He won’t think anything of dropping thirty bucks on a game like this. Probably wouldn’t think anything of dropping thirty grand!
He tries again. Hits the first, then second and misses the last one. But he wins a small starfish in a pretty pink that reminds me of the inside of a conch shell.
I hug it. “It’s perfect. I always wanted a starfish.” I smile broadly so he’ll know how satisfied I am.
“Yeah, but it’ll get lonely without that unicorn…”
We could just order one from Amazon. Quicker and less stressful that way. Probably end up cheaper that way, too. And with Prime delivery, it’d be here in two days. I can wait two days, no problem.
But I know better than to say any of that out loud, especially when people are gathering around now, and Devlin has an audience.
“The third time’s the charm, Becca pie,” he says with a grin.
So are you going to give up if you don’t win this time? No, of course not. Vegas would go bankrupt if every gambler gave up after the third try.
He throws the first bag. Hits the right target. He throws again. Hits the second one. And the third time…
Oh my God!
The bag smacks the tiny moon, which has the most point value of all the targets, knocking it backward.
Excitement surges as I jump up and down. “I can’t believe it! You did it!” I throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck.
The crowd starts clapping and whooping. Devlin laughs, hugging me tightly. “Of course. Told you I was going to win it!”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t sure. It isn’t easy to win these games. I’ve never won anything!”
“So what? You’re the archery champ!” He flicks the tip of my nose affectionately.
The booth operator smiles. “Congratulations! So the unicorn, huh?”
“You know it,” Devlin says. “Hand that bad boy over.”
The operator gives the stuffed animal to Devlin, and he gives it to me with a kiss on the forehead. I hug the unicorn with one arm and loop the other around Devlin’s waist as we walk away from the booth. Then he says we need to celebrate, and we grab a couple of light homebrews from a vendor to toast our victory. And I decide this is the best date. Ever.