Page 67 of Beni

She beamed. “That was the point.”

“There are other—”

“Listen, I have what is known as self-preservation. It means when something screams this looks like it might kill you, I make smart decisions and stay away.”

“Funny,” Beni murmured, “when something feels dangerous to me, I tend to like it more.”

“That sounds like something you should work on.”

“Thanks for that.”

Their laughter drifted through the line of food concessions. He pulled her closer to his side, an arm wrapping tight around her waist as the lights from the stands and rides lit up the sky. Young teens darted past them after grabbing their bags of popcorn from a concession stand, while the noise from the carnival kept the place awake and alive, despite the sky being inky with night.

“No rides, then,” he said, his words murmuring along her hairline, “so does that mean we can play a game?”

“Think you can win me something?”

“Is that a challenge?”

Her mind drifted back to that challenge in her friend’s doorway, and she spoke before she could think better of it. “Absolutely.”

Beni’s hand found hers before he was tugging her through a crowd, and on the other side, through a line of concession stands filled with games. She was sure most of them were probably rigged to the carnival’s benefit, but she was going to have fun watching Beni try to win something.

“That one,” he said, pointing at a specific game.

August arched a brow at him. “Darts?”

Well, specifically, he needed to hit very small balloons with darts.

“Darts,” he agreed.

They passed a game with pellet guns, and a similar task. And another shooting game, although that one was water, and one needed to get the stream of water into the mouth of a strange looking clown to blow their balloon head up to the max.

“Not a shooting game?” August half-teased. “I thought … you know—”

“What, that because I’m connected to the mob, I’d want to shoot something?”

Her cheeks pinked.

Beni laughed.

“Well, I wasn’t going to say it like that.”

Beni shrugged as the two of them came to stand at the dart game, the man behind the stand already holding a hand out to take money. A twenty-dollar bill was handed over—enough for five shots.

“Nope,” Beni said, flipping one dart between his fingertips, and surveying the back end of it. “See, the sights on those guns are shit, and the way I was taught to handle a weapon was with respect. They’re not toys, we don’t play with them, and actually, I rarely have one on me unless I know I’m going to need one.”

“Really?”

His stare jumped her way quickly, before he raised his hand back, glanced at the target across the stand, and let the dart fly from his fingertips.

Pop.

August didn’t even look to see which balloon he’d popped. She was too busy still staring at him. And now, his attention was back on her where she clearly liked it to be the very most.

“And who taught you to play darts?”

“My brother’s boyfriend—Alessio.”