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With his free hand, he presses against my lower back and walks beside me as I take five steps and stop at the line, just as he instructed.
“Okay, let’s do it again, but this time swing your arm back on step four, and forward on step five. Like this.”
He shows me again, going back to the dots and taking five steps, swinging his arm to mimic the motion of throwing the bowling ball.
I copy him, and he nods approvingly.
“Now, let’s do the same motion but with the ball.” He grabs my ball and gestures for me to come back to the dots. “Just do the five steps, throw your arm back at four and forward for five, but don’t let go of the ball.”
I do as he instructs, and when my arm swings forward, he yells, “Freeze!” It startles me, but I stand perfectly still.
He comes up behind me again. “Is it okay if I?—?”
“Yes,” I say. My arm starts to feel heavy from holding the bowling ball, and it sags a little.
He points down the lane, the inside of his shoulder against the outside of mine, his chest against my back, almost like—if we weren’t in a bowling alley—we’re spooning.
“See how my fingers line up with the arrows?”
I nod, knowing he can see the movement in his peripheral.
“That’s where you want the ball to go.” He lifts the bowling ball, still in my hand, and lines it up with the arrow. “You see?” he asks, and I hope he can’t feel the way my whole body is beating in time with the thump of my heart.
We both let the bowling ball drop back to my side.
“Ian,” I say before he moves away from me. “You know you don’t have to ask permission to touch me. I appreciate it, but it isn’t necessary.”
I’ve never been asked if I’m okay to be touched. Not in a sexual context, and not in a non-sexual context. All of my consensual experiences have been implied consent, and I’ve had more than a few encounters that were less than consensual—grazes, gropes, hands on places I didn’t want them. Nothing traumatizing or painful, but those touches stain like red wine on a white dress. Just because they weren’t damaging doesn’t mean I feel clean of them.
For Ian to ask permission to touch me, especially in a non-sexual way, might be one of the most intimate things I’ve experienced with another person.
And we’re in a fucking bowling alley.
He steps to the side to face me and makes eye contact so intense I have to force myself not to look away. The air between us tightens as if it’s holding its breath.
“It is necessary,” he says, and then he stands back and claps his hands a few times like a coach. Like that’s all he’s going to say about the matter and it’s not up for discussion.
“All right, you got this.” He points to me and then winks, and I do my best to attribute the butterflies in my stomach to gettingthis bowl, not because he just said one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me and then winked at me, and all of it is making me feel some kind of way about this green bean.
This time when I go through the motions, following Ian’s instructions to a tee and releasing the ball, it rolls with a crash down the lane and right into the sweet spot of the pins that gets me a strike. I scream-squeal and jump up and down. Ian comes at me and I jump into his arms. Mac and Jessie holler for me, dancing and swinging their arms around in celebration. Ian screams, “HELL YEAH!” and I fist pump while he twirls me in a circle.
When he puts me back down, his arms linger around me for a second, and our eyes lock. The air around us releases—an exhale—but the moment ends when Mac and Jessie crash into us with a hug, and then the four of us are in a group hug that takes me too long to extricate myself from.
As we each take our turns celebrating strikes, spares, and everything in between with progressively weirder dancing, group hugs, and so much yelling that Stuart from the counter gives us dirty looks, it’s impossible to ignore how seamlessly Ian fits in with me, Jessie, and Mac. The green bean I met on day one in the theater was so quiet, reserved, and awkward that I would have never dropped him in with me and my friends and expected him to fit in this well. I didn’t expect much from him at all.
And maybe it’s because I had no expectations that he’s been able to surprise me like this. Maybe because I thought he was nothing special he’s been able to prove me wrong. Most people in my life have disappointed me, even when my expectations for them were on the floor. But watching Ian memorize all his lines, work his ass off to be off book, and seeing him come alive tonight?
It makes me glad I met him after all.
9
IAN
“So is mine eye enthrallèd to thy shape.”Act III, Scene I
I may not be experienced, but I am a quick learner. So this time when I show up at Jade’s apartment, I don’t bring flowers.
“You brought baked goods,” Jade says as she opens the door.
