I was winning. Obviously. Flatline had spent the last ten minutes insisting she could beat me at darts. She couldn't. She missed the board entirely on her first throw. "...Impressive." "Oh, hush." "I've seen toddlers with better aim." She narrowed her eyes. "I was distracted." "By what?" "...You." I blinked. "...That's the worst excuse I've ever heard." She smiled. "It worked." "It didn't." "You blushed." "I did not." "You absolutely—" "I am literally standing six feet away." "Exactly. I can see your face." "...You're insufferable." "I've been called worse." She grabbed another dart. This time she actually hit the board. Unfortunately. She threw both hands in the air. "I am AMAZING!" "You scored a three." "A THREE!" "Out of fifty." "Don't ruin my moment." I folded my arms. "I'll ruin several." She pointed a finger at me dramatically. "Okay. New game." "I'm already concerned." "If I win..." "You won't." "...you owe me ice cream." "If I win?" She thought for a second. "...You get bragging rights." "I already have those." She laughed. "You are so full of yourself." "I've earned it." "Mhm." Five minutes later... She somehow won. I still maintain she cheated. "There is absolutely no way that counted." "It hit the bullseye." "It bounced." "It still landed." "Physics betrayed me." "No..." She leaned against my shoulder with the biggest grin imaginable. "...You lost." I sighed. "I despise you."