I bat it away and grab for a napkin, balling it up, just as he reaches for the soda dispenser. I’ve got my arm raised, primed to throw, while his finger’s on the trigger, aiming it right at my face. We’re at a stand-still, eyes narrowed on one another’s with matching smiles promising war. It’s like I’m suddenly eleven years old again, facing my best friend on the playground, snowballs beginning to melt in our hands as we wait for the other to fire the first shot. “You sure you wanna do this, City Boy?” I give him a sly smile. “Babe, do you even have to ask?”
