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“Well, get ready, cause you’re about to get clobbered,” I tease.
“Aren’t you supposed to play it cool on the first date? Let me win and all that?” She climbs out the truck, placing her hands on her curvy waist, jutting her right hip out.
I shrug, stepping in close to wrap my arms around her waist. She giggles as I nuzzle my head into her neck, tickling her soft skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”
“I know how to bowl,” she says, exasperatedly, though she’s putty in my arms, her body melting into mine. “Though perhaps I need a few pointers.”
12
JOSIE
Andrew leads me into the bowling alley, taking my hand in his. The carpet is exactly what you’d imagine a bowling alley to have. Dark with spots of neon swirls and patterns. We Can’t Stop, by Miley Cyrus booms through the speakers, and the song throws me back in time to a smelly high school dance in the gym.
There’s one other group here, a bunch of teens that seem more interested in the pizza on their table than bowling. Of course, they hoot and holler when one of their friends gets a strike, then they go right back to their food. Though I can’t say I blame them, the pizza smells incredible.
Hand in hand, we head toward the counter, where an older gentleman who looks asleep sits. His head is resting in his open palm, elbow bent and resting on the counter to hold him up. His jaw is covered with a prickly, unkempt beard, his entire being just… dirty. Andrew gently clears his throat, and the man wakes with a jolt. He grunts, shifting so he’s sitting up straight.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” he grumbles, rubbing his hand over his face to wipe away the exhaustion. “Two?” he asks, looking back and forth between us. His gaze lingers on me, dragging his eyes up and down my body, landing on my chest.
“Two,” Andrew confirms. Seemingly without thought, Andrew drops my hand, shifting himself so he’s slightly in front of me. The worker, who’s name tag reads Orlando, makes me slightly uncomfortable, so I’m grateful for the small gesture. “What’s your shoe size?” Andrew asks me, still keeping me shielded.
I tell him, and he passes along the information, handing me the shoes before grabbing his own. I step back, and Andrew leads me by the small of my back to the farthest lane, opposite of the group of teens. “Sorry,” Andrew murmurs. He sets down his shoes on one of the benches, then pulls me into his chest. My chin rests against him as I look up into his eyes. “That dude just gave me weird vibes. He probably didn’t mean anything by it, but I didn’t want him looking at you like that.”
I nod against his chest. “It’s okay. I appreciate you looking out for me. I didn’t really like him either. He was… off. I can’t think of a better way to describe it. Let’s forget about it, and have some fun, yeah?”
Andrew seems slightly wary still, but when I look around my shoulder to where Orlando sits, he’s already passed out again. “You’re right,” Andrew agrees. He looks down at me, tucking a hair behind my ear, kissing me gently on the cheek. “I don’t think you’re ready for the greatness you’re about to witness, petals.”
“You’re on,” I tease. With that, I pull myself out of his arms, and sit down on the creaky bench, kicking off my shoes. Thank goodness I didn’t put on a pair of sandals, so I have socks on. I slide the clunky bowling shoes on my feet, tightening the laces, then stand, and walk over to the rack of balls. Andrew is finishing up lacing his own shoes, so I grab myself a purple shimmering ball. My internal thoughts war with each other as I hold back a dirty joke about balls.
Andrew rises, meeting me in two steps. I stand still, holding the ball in my open palms. Andrew reaches behind me, grabbing a red ball. His fingers slide into the holes, and he gets a devilish grin on his face, waggling his eyebrows. He’s practically daring me to make the joke, but I hold back. I will not show this man how much of a weirdo I am on the first date. Nope. No siree. Not me.
Before I realize it, Andrew is reaching around me, grabbing another ball. With a bowling ball resting in each palm, he eyes me straight on and deadpans, “Like my balls?”
It’s all so absurd and childish that I burst out laughing, clutching my stomach. We laugh hard enough that the teens on the opposite side of the alley stop looking at their phones to glare at us. Apparently, our laughter is too much for them.
When our laughter dies down, Andrew puts the other ball back onto the rack. “Ah, that’s a classic. I couldn’t help it.”
“I think we have the same type of humor, because I was holding back no less than three different ball jokes.”
“See, this is why I know we’re a good fit.” Andrew’s eyes burn as he looks at me, and suddenly, I want to jump him like the horn dog I am.
Andrew gets the console set up, typing both our names so they appear on the screen. “Ladies first,” he says, winking with his right eye. He holds out his arm, gesturing for me to go ahead.
I smile, and step up onto the sleek wooden platform. I wasn’t lying when I told him it had been a long time since I bowled. My sister, Jess, had a bowling party for her fifteenth birthday. I would have been twelve, so, yeah, that was the most recent time. But it can’t be that hard, right? It’s gotta be like riding a bike.
I step forward, taking a deep breath, hoping that I don’t make too much of a fool of myself. With that, I aim down the middle, and drop my arm back before swinging forward to release the shimmery ball down the aisle. Instead of the strike that I was manifesting, the ball slides right into the gutter about ten feet after it hits the ground with a loud thud. I cringe, watching as the ball disappears.
I turn around, and try to play it cool. Andrew is standing by the ball thingy, hands in the pocket of his jeans. He rocks back and forth on his heels, his eyes alight with humor as he tries not to laugh at me.
“In my defense, it’s been a long time,” I argue preemptively.
He holds his hands up, palms facing me. “Hey, I think you did great.” He gestures at the board. “And you’ve even got one more shot. Shake out the cobwebs.”
The purple ball shoots out of the machine. With a scowl, I grab it, heading back onto the platform. I get myself into position, taking another deep breath. When I send the ball down the aisle this time, it doesn’t immediately hit the gutter. Though it does slow to nearly a crawl as it heads toward the pins. With giddy anticipation, I watch as it rolls toward the far left edge pins.
It hits two pins, knocking them down. Throwing my hands in the air, I let out a little whoop of victory. “Ha, I did it!” I jeer, heading toward Andrew. He’s standing in the same spot as before, his smile no longer humorous, but… proud? “Your turn.” I poke my finger into his chest.
Andrew steps back, and grabs his ball from the machine. He pulls me in for a quick side hug, and presses a gentle kiss to the top of my head. “Petals, I hope you don’t hate me, but I physically cannot be bad at bowling, so this is not intentional.”
