“Okay, first of all, this bear radiates dignity and power. Look at his face. Second of all, if you don’t want him—”
“Whoa. Didn’t say I don’t want him,” says Dylan.
Ben leans closer to Mario. “Why is this the most exciting standoff I’ve ever witnessed?”
“The tension,” Mario murmurs back. “The stakes.”
Cool, glad I can provide such thrilling entertainment for Ben and his new boyfriend. Is that why I’m here—to feed them anecdotes to whip out for all the other couples at future dinner parties? Babe, remember that little guy you dated who thought he could win claw machines?
I turn back to the machine, staring down my target through the glass. Fifteen seconds on the clock. The bear’s just a few inches behind the prize chute, so that’s good—less ground to cover means the claw has less opportunity for a premature drop. Twelve seconds. His back leg is wedged under something, but his other limbs are loose. Even better, the satiny plush heart he’s holding doesn’t seem to be fused to his chest. Nine seconds. Eight. Seven. I’m going for it. Four seconds. If winning this tencent valentine bear is how I wipe the smug smile off Mario’s face, consider it won. Three seconds. Two seconds. One second.
“He’s too far back,” Mario says—but he’s wrong. The claw descends in the exact right spot, evenly framing its target.
I don’t blink. I don’t even breathe.
The claw closes, grazing the bear’s face and torso. Then it pauses for the barest split second before starting to rise again. Empty. Of course. Unless—
“Oh. My. God.” Dylan presses his palms to the glass.
The claw lifts the bear by its valentine heart and carries it safely to the prize chute before releasing it. For a moment, I’m frozen in place, like a dancer holding a jazz-hands pose after a big Broadway number.
“Holy shit. You fucking did it. Are you guys seeing this?” Mario slams his palm into mine in the most forceful high five of my life, and then—before I even realize it’s happening—he hugs me. “Incredible. I can’t believe I doubted you.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. One and done.” Dylan squats in front of the prize chute. “That’s right, come to papa.”
Ben shoots me the tiniest smile, and my stomach flips like a pancake.
“Just look at the little guy! He’s so cute,” Mario says, and I whirl around, blushing. Little guy? Okay, but he’s looking at Dylan. Not even Dylan. It’s the bear. Mario’s talking about the bear.
“You know what I’d love?” Dylan says. “For goddamn once, I’d like to see a valentine with a little creativity. I’m not buying what he’s selling. Haven’t we evolved past I love you beary much? Hello?” He flicks the bear’s heart. “Where’s that energy for I bearly love you?”
“That’s not a valentine; that’s a breakup gift,” says Ben.
Mario elbows him and laughs. “That’s your breakup move, Alejo? You win the guy an asshole bear, and it’s done?”
Nope. Absolutely not. No one, literally no one, asked for Mario’s hot take on Ben’s past breakups. And I can tell from a glance that Ben feels weird about it, too. It’s actually bizarre how much a year or two of FaceTime can teach you. I can read Ben better now than I could when we were dating.
Dylan jumps into the fray. “Are you calling my bear an asshole, Super Mario?”
“Your hypothetical asshole bear? Definitely,” says Mario. “This bear, on the other hand? Total fucking sweetheart. Dylan, you’re a lucky dad.”
And I guess I’ve been possessed by some kind of Pick-Me-Cool-Ex demon impulse, because suddenly I’m grabbing the bear from Dylan and thrusting it at Mario.
Dylan’s jaw drops. “WHAT?”
Which is when I realize, with dawning horror, that I just gave my ex-boyfriend’s new boyfriend a teddy bear. With a heart. That says I love you beary much.
Has my whole entire life been leading up to the complete and utter shame of this moment?
“I’m—God, I’m so sorry. You don’t have to . . .”
I reach for the bear, but Mario whisks it away. “Hey, now. I didn’t say you could have it back.”
Dylan looks stunned. “I have never been so offended in my entire life. You just kidnapped my child.”
“You just said you weren’t buying what he’s selling,” says Ben.
“Bennifer, why are you making this about capitalism?”