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She's radiant, her green eyes sparkling with curiosity and anticipation.
I flash her a grin. “Ready to show off your bowling skills?”
“A bowling alley for our first date, huh?” Finley asks with a playful grin as we head inside. “I haven't been bowling in ages.”
“Trust me, it'll be fun,” I assure her, holding the door open. The familiar scent of polished lanes and concession stand popcorn greets us.
“Jake! Good to see you, man!” the guy behind the counter greets me with a fist bump. “The usual lane?”
“You got it, Mike. But make it two pairs of shoes this time,” I say, putting an arm around Finley.
She looks at me with a bemused expression. “Come here often?”
“Guilty as charged,” I admit with a chuckle. “It's kind of a tradition for Amelia and me. We come almost every weekend.”
Finley's face softens. “That's sweet.”
Armed with bowling shoes, we head over to our lane. Finley wrinkles her nose at the clunky, colorful shoes.
I help her select a ball and she tests the weight uncertainly.
“Here, let me show you the technique I taught Amelia,” I say, selecting a ball for her. I guide her to the lane and stand behind her. “Bend your knees slightly, and line up the ball with the center arrow.”
As we move through the motions slowly, I'm suddenly conscious of how close we are. I put my hand on the small of her back and adjust the position of her elbow.
She leans back against me a little. The scent of vanilla and flour still clings to her hair.
“Like this?” she asks.
“Perfect.”
“I feel like I'm back in middle school gym class,” she jokes.
“Now take a deep breath, and release on the exhale.”
Finley takes her first shot, using the form I showed her. She throws the ball, and it rolls down the lane, knocking down a solid nine pins.
Finley jumps up and down, spinning to face me with a huge smile. “I did it! The Amber method works!”
“All right, Finley, let's see what you've got!” I challenge playfully as she steps up for her next turn.
She gives me a sharp look, a competitive glint sparking in her eyes. She grabs her ball and lines up her shot with exaggerated focus.
The ball rolls down the lane, knocking over a respectable seven pins.
“Not too shabby,” I comment, nodding approvingly.
“I'm just getting warmed up,” she says.
Finley lines up the next ball and releases it, but it veers off course and rolls into the gutter.
“Ooh, tough break,” I say as her shoulders slump.
“Yeah, well, you have an unfair advantage,” Finley counters, pointing an accusing finger at me. “You're here all the time! It's a conspiracy.”
“It's more like a family perk,” I joke, stepping up to take my turn. I make a show of lining up my shot, glancing back at Finley with a grin. “Watch and learn from the sensei, grasshopper.”
She rolls her eyes, but I catch the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.
