To a late-night arcade...

Carter takes an off-ramp from the highway to the surface street it connects to. Once I get my bearings after seeing some familiar buildings and street signs, I finally figure out where he is heading. It turns out he is going towards the same mall I work at. The time on the dashboard reads 12:05am, so most of the mall is closed at this time. When we do get to the parking lots surrounding the shopping center, he drives around until the lots slowly turn from starkly empty lots into ones that have hardly any open spots. Fortunately, Carter finds a space and wastes no time parking the car within the lines.

“Round 1? Why did you take us here?” I ask, breaking the silence in the car.

“I wanted to have some fun. Wanna join me? Unless you want to stay here handcuffed to the door,” he says.

“It'll get cold out here this time of night,” I state the obvious, wondering if he'd be concerned for my well-being.

“Is that a yes or no? It's not my choice whether you join me or not,” he says. I kind of detect a tone of jest.

“It's a yes,” I finally say. He nods in acknowledgment and exits the car. He rounds the front of it and opens my door, which causes me to bend forward and out, since I'm connected to it.

“Promise me you won't do a Houdini on me,” he adds.

“I would have done a Criss Angel by now. Besides, it's not like I have anywhere to go at this hour. I'm so not walking home like this. And plus, I'd rather stick with you since you probably have the antidote to this gender swap that you did,” I mention.

“That's not how it works,” he says as he unlocks the cuffs. Once they are removed, I rub my wrists, warming them up. I get out of the car and follow him inside. It's a relief to be out of the cold of the night and I'm wondering how could girls wear skirts in this type of temperature and not get freeze to ****. I rub my hands along my forearms, warming them up, as Carter leaves my side momentarily to go to a kiosk. He doesn't return to me once he has paid for a card reload, so I walk over to him and follow him closely, not wanting to be left behind. I stay near him knowing he is my ride, considering in this body, I do not have anything on me that has my identity.

I follow Carter all around the gaming floor and since he doesn't immediately start playing anything, I wonder if he is just browsing what this Round 1 property has to offer. He finally settles on an air hockey table. He slides his card on the reader, activating a new game.

“Wanna play?” he asks. I stand by his side, trying to decide if I should play or not. For some odd reason, I equate this choice with his earlier question if I wanted a beer or not. Like a big brother would to his sibling, Carter rubs my head in a similar manner to a noogie, causing my hair to become messy. “Hey, earth to Brian! Why don't you play and make use of your time. See, I try not to come to these places alone, so that I'm not calling out to the crowd for an air hockey opponent.”

I fix my hair as best I could and round the table. The version of this air hockey machine is the kind made for up to four players with four provided strikers on the corners of the table. Since there are just two of us playing, Carter has opted to use the two strikers on his side of the table. I do the same, evening the odds.

I'm lost in my own mind when Carter hits the puck towards the side of the table, banking off the wall and with little effort of defense from me, scores a goal. I put the puck back on the board and lightly hit it with one of my strikers towards Carter, who doesn't hold back when he strikes it back to me. The puck hits the wall, bouncing towards the opposite wall before floating straight into the goal. I try to defend, but in doing so, I accidentally hit the puck backwards into the goal, scoring a point for Carter. “Are you trying to let me win?” he asks.

“No,” I state and put the puck back on the table and hit it back to Carter with more strength behind it, causing us to go into a long rally, our strikers hitting the puck back and forth and every time it comes to our side, we eagerly defend our goals. With a swiping motion I hit the puck as it floats straight to my side, causing it to veer to the wall, banking off of it and into Carter's goal.

“Hey, it's just a game, dude,” he says, jokingly.

“Shut up,” I say in jest. The machine lights up and the next phase of the game activates, releasing multiple small pucks from chutes on the side of the board where it keeps our score. Carter and I scramble to score as many points as possible swiping frantically at any and all available pucks on the board. At the end, our point totals are almost tied, with him taking the win.

“Good game,” he says, putting the strikers back into their respective homes and leaving the machine. I follow him to another game of his choosing. He browses the multiple rows of crane games. He chooses one with a dog plushie, sliding his game card in the reader. He looks at the recommended method, a photo of the plushie mounted in the cage and an arrow indicating where to position the claw, in this case a single finger, that would usually push the toy into the bin below. Carter aims for the spot and once the side-to-side and back-and-forth motions have been chosen, the claw descends. On his first try the claw only lightly grazes the spot indicated in the picture. “Fuck me,” he says, much to my amusement. “I can never get these.”

He slides his card in the reader a second time for another attempt. He positions the claw and once it descends once more, it collides with the firm placement of the plushie, causing the claw to come to a halt, not even descending to its maximum depth. The claw rises without any movement made to the toy. He groans and again I'm enjoying his misery.

“What are you laughing at? Why don't you try it?” he says in annoyance. Carter slides his game card in the reader a third time and he steps aside, letting me try a turn.