by Grey, R. S.
“Oh, so you’re just assuming that because I prefer to sleep with men that I also happen to know a thing or two about fashion? That for the last three years I’ve been dying to strip you out of those hideous jeans and burn them on the spot? That I have several outfits saved to a secret Pinterest board entitled ‘Sexy Madison’ in the event that you ever wanted me to dress you? Well friend, you are in luck. Let’s go. The mall is still open for another few hours.”
* * *
At 7:55 PM, we pull up in front of the bowling alley. Eli and Kevin unbuckle their seatbelts and reach for their door handles, but I jump forward and grab their shoulders.
“Wait! Don’t get out yet!”
“Why?” Kevin asks, glancing at me over his shoulder.
“Because…”
Oh right, I haven’t exactly filled them in on the rest of my plan. Eli assumed I wanted this makeover for myself, just to feel good and update my look. I didn’t correct him, but now I have to.
“We have to wait a few minutes, just to be sure Ben and his friends are here already. They’ll be bowling with us.”
Eli jerks around. “Are you serious? Is that why we did all this?” He waves his hand over my getup. “For Ben?”
I puff out air like that’s a crazy idea. “No, it’s for me. I wanted some new clothes.” And sleek hair and killer makeup.
“Maddie…”
I dart my gaze out the window, trying to fend off his pity. I don’t want it. I don’t want Eli to think Ben is out of my league. Because he’s right.
He sighs. “I just think this is a bad idea—”
“No. Listen,” I say, turning to him with my chin raised and conviction in my words. “You think he’s going to break my heart and maybe he is, but you have to let me experience this on my own. I know what I’m doing, I swear.”
Kevin reaches out to touch Eli’s shoulder. “She’s right. I was way out of your league and look, we’re madly in love.”
Eli’s frown softens. “Oh, ha ha, very funny. I just don’t want her to get hurt.”
“Well ‘her’ knows what she’s doing,” I quip just as Ben’s black SUV pulls into a parking space in the row in front of us.
I duck for cover, of course.
“That’s him!” I hiss. “Is he looking over here?”
“No, you’re good. There’s a lamppost blocking his view. Plus, he’s talking to his friends.”
Oh good. I sit back up and fix my hair as I watch him, Andy, and Arianna walk toward the front entrance. They’re so beautiful, they look like a pack of vampires. Arianna is svelte and long-legged with short blonde hair. Her outfit is so damn cool! She’s wearing black jeans and an off-the-shoulder red sweater. The boxy fit would make me look shapeless, but she looks hip! Trendy!
Then I remember we aren’t so shabby either. Kevin’s really cute, blond and tall and tan. He’s the surfer boy to Eli’s handsome bookworm, and I look pretty dang good myself—fancy, even, though I’m not wearing anything more than jeans and a black shirt. The jeans are new, though, and they fit me like a glove. The long-sleeved black top is tight, like a second skin, and the U-neck dips down to reveal the perfect amount of cleavage. It doesn’t hurt that my bra is accentuating every curve I have. My hair is sleek and straight thanks to the salon Eli and Kevin took me to, and they did my makeup there, too. A woman chatted my ear off as she swiped on all sorts of fun things—bronzer, blush, eyeshadow. I let her do whatever she wanted and when that chair spun around, I was completely struck silent by my own appearance. Some people really are miracle workers.
We wait exactly ten minutes before we get out of the car and follow Ben inside the bowling alley. I’m not really trying to make an entrance, it just happens that way. I think it’s largely by accident. Kevin and Eli hold the doors open for me. I step inside right when the music changes from upbeat pop to something slow and sultry, a song that would fit perfectly in my dirty dreams. An employee passing in front of me accidentally drops a WET FLOOR sign and it clatters to the ground, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. The final touch comes from the fan overhead, placed there to keep the heat in and the cold air out. I look like I’m in the middle of a photo shoot. Hello, Gigi? You’re fired. There’s a new supermodel in town.
Ben is standing a few yards away, talking to Andy and Arianna. He stops midsentence when he sees me. If I were talking, I’d have paused too. Mussed brown hair. Sharp amber eyes. Cool jacket. Dark jeans. The guy knows how to dress, and it probably didn’t take him three hours to get ready like it took me. His gaze meets mine and his brows shoot up a smidge. It’s an acknowledgment of my new look, possibly the only one I’ll get.
“Sorry about that,” says the employee in front of me, the one who dropped the sign. He waves the thing in front of my face. “Guess we need a warning for the sign too.”
I frown. “What?”
He blanches, stumbling over his words. “Oh, j-just…the sign is supposed to caution people about a slippery floor, but the sign slipped out of my hand, so…”
I laugh because that’s actually pretty funny.
His face lights up. We’re having a moment. I mean, he’s like 17, but I can still tell from his appreciative gaze that he thinks I look hot, and that’s something.
Ben steps up behind him and the kid turns to look up at him, eyes widening in fear. Ben sends him a scathing glare.
“Madison, we already paid for the lane,” Ben says, all but dismissing the guy. Tell me he’s not really jealous of a 17-year-old?! Amazing. “You guys just need to grab shoes.”
Oh right. Boo. I hadn’t considered that my cool vibe would be thrown off by clunky clown shoes.
I guess Ben will look silly too, but oh, what’s that? He looks just as hot? Figures.
When he finishes lacing his up, he kneels down in front of me and holds out his hand.
I give him a high five and he glares at me as if he’s annoyed. He’s not. His eyes are crinkled in the corners.
“Shoe,” he says, and I slap one into his hand so he can lace it for me.
“I’m not an invalid. My head is all healed up, in case you didn’t notice.”
“I noticed,” he says, yanking hard on the laces.
I smile. “This is the second time you’ve laced me up today. You’re getting really good at it.”
He huffs out a short breath just as Andy and Arianna come sit down on the bench beside us.
Andy waves his shoes in the air. “Can you lace me up too while you’re down there, Benny boy?”
The glare Ben delivers should singe Andy’s ass to the bench. I take the opportunity to reach over and introduce myself to Arianna. “I don’t think we’ve formally met. I’m Madison.”
She smiles and accepts my handshake. “Hey, yeah, I saw you at Jake’s party the other week, right? You were there with your brother?”
Memories flash through my mind like a highlight reel: panties, book, dark corners, Ben’s hard body pressed against mine.
“Oh, um, yes.” Wow, is that my voice breaking? “I was there.”
When I look back at Ben, he’s smiling at the floor.
“So are you two dating?” she asks, pointing between Ben and me.
“Dating?” The word drops out of my mouth like a hefty stone.
“Nah, Madison’s looking for a nice guy,” Ben replies with an edge to his tone.
My eyes narrow teasingly. “Or at least someone who knows how to properly tie shoes. You did it so tight, I can’t feel my feet.”
Eli and Kevin join us and we continue introductions. Turns out, Arianna and Kevin already know each other. Their parents are friends, and just like that, the group seems to mesh a lot more organically than I thought it would. Andy’s talkative enough for everyone, and the bowling alley has placed us in the lane against the wall, which I’m grateful for because I’m not really that great at bowling and I worry about errant balls accidentally taking out small children.
Ben’s quiet as we all stand around the old-school computer, de
ciding on rules and teams. Arianna and Eli are arguing about the merits of putting up gutter guards. I glance at Ben out of the corner of my eye and catch him dragging his gaze down my legs. He turns away, quickly. It’s almost so fast I don’t catch it.
“What do you think, Maddie?”
I think this outfit is doing exactly what I wanted it to.
“Maddie,” Eli says impatiently, waving his hand in front of my face.
I blink. “What?”
“Gutter guards?”
“Sure. I’m not trying to kill anyone tonight.”
So, it’s decided, we’ll use the bumpers, and the teams form naturally. Of course, Eli and Kevin will pair up, Arianna and Andy, and me and Ben. I go to pick my ball and feel his presence behind me. I go for the lightest option, and he has to bend down to grab one of the heavier ones.
“Bright pink,” he teases, motioning toward my selection. “I think that’s for kids.”
I stick my fingers in the holes and hold it up to strike a pose. “Fits me perfectly, thank you very much.”
“There’s a sparkly butterfly on it.”
“That’s a hawk.”
“Mmm. Want me to give you a few pointers?”
I lift my chin proudly. “I have my own special method.”
Said method mainly involves having no method at all. Poor Ben’s really going to have to carry our team. For my first turn, I attempt to look like a pro. I stride smoothly to take my spot at the lane, wind up, aim, and then drop the ball so it lands with a heavy thunk two feet in front of me. It doesn’t even officially make it into the lane.
“Not bad, not bad,” Andy chants with some overzealous claps.
Eli whistles.
Everyone agrees I can try a do-over, and this time, instead of trying to look cool, I spread my legs wide, wind the bowling ball back between them, and let her fly. The bright pink ball clunks down the lane, successfully nudging two pins off balance.
“Two!” I shout, whirling around, hands in the air.
“Actually, only one fell. The other just wobbled,” Kevin says, pointing behind me.
I groan as I walk back to my seat.
“Just so you know, your goal is to knock them all down,” Eli teases, patting my shoulder as I brush past him.
Thankfully, Kevin is even worse than I am, but Arianna is shockingly good—like what the hell, did she spend her summers at bowling camp or what? Andy isn’t bad either. Together, they’ve formed a team that can’t be beat. They high-five each other and bump chests, really getting into the spirit. Eli and Kevin are too. They’re talking strategy and cracking up together, their heads bent close. They look as adorable as ever.
Meanwhile, Ben has chosen to sit as far away from me as possible. I’d have to yell if I wanted to say something to him.
I try not to read too much into it and when it’s his turn, I sigh, secretly happy to have an excuse to ogle him without it seeming strange. I have to watch my team member during his turn, right?
He’s taken off his jacket and his gray crewneck t-shirt isn’t tight, but I’m still very aware of his muscular build, as is the group of old women to our left. They’ve paused their game to watch him take his turn.
He winds up and releases the ball. It cuts right down the center of the lane and smashes into the pins with a loud whack. Every single pin gets knocked down and then he turns, just in time to see me staring at him with a tinge too much hero worship in my gaze.
This is getting a little pathetic.
I leap to my feet and wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Beer, anyone?”
There’s a chorus of resounding yeses, along with a few shouts for nachos.
My boyfriend—sign boy—is working the snack register. When I request two orders of nachos and six beers, he tells me the nachos are on the house and then winks before motioning down at the candy.
“Care for anything sweet? My treat.”
I’m about to take him up on his offer of some free Skittles when Ben cuts in and lays cash down on the counter.
“You can keep the change,” he says, starting to gather beers. I swear he nearly growls at the kid.
He won’t even look at me.
I take the last two bottles and the nachos, placing them on a tray.
“You really cramped my style back there,” I say as we walk back.
“Oh yeah? Is that the guy you have in mind for your first time? He weighs 75 pounds.”
I grin. “I could have sweet-talked him into giving me a chocolate bar if you hadn’t come along.”
“If you’re still hungry after all this, I’ll get you a chocolate bar,” he says, glancing down at my tray, which is loaded down with our stuff. “Can you carry that?”
“Yup,” I say before stuffing a whole nacho into my mouth and smiling proudly.
When we make it back to the group, I expect him to reclaim his old spot and go right on ignoring me. Instead, he tells me to scoot over and sits beside me, stealing a nacho. His hip is touching mine on the orange plastic bench. I take a long swig of beer, realizing I need it.
“You look different tonight,” he says as Andy hops up to take his second turn.
“Oh?” I ask, very cool, very confused. Me? Different? How so? “Good different or bad different?”
“Just…different.” He leans back to assess me then reaches for a strand of hair. “I’ve never seen your hair straight.”
I shrug. “Well, don’t get used to it. It took a woman at the mall like an hour to style it like this. I’d never have the patience to do it myself.”
His brows tug together. “You got your hair done for tonight?”
Shit. What? No! What kind of loser gets her hair done for bowling?
I shake my head. “Just needed a haircut,” I lie, and for once I’m grateful it’s biologically impossible for men to tell when a woman has cut her hair. I swear my dad and brother never notice.
“It looks good.”
Three words, not even all that flowery, but he might as well have declared his love with the way my heart is beating.
I smile as I bring my beer back to my lips. He watches me take a sip, and are we the only ones in this bowling alley or does it just feel that way now? I swear he’s about to lean in and tell me something, but then Eli nudges me in the shoulder, announcing it’s my turn.
“Clear the area,” Andy shouts, hands forming a megaphone around his mouth.
“Ha ha ha,” I say, playing along with his joke. “Just watch—I’ll get it this time.”
I do not get it this time. I somehow manage to miss every single pin even though the gutter guards ensure my ball makes it all the way down to the end.
When I retake my seat, Ben nudges me. “That’s impressive. I think it might be harder to not hit a single pin than it is to get a strike.”
His sly smirk all but seals my fate. I spend the precious minutes between my second and third turn sharing nachos with him and praying he’ll say more things that make my stomach dip. Suddenly, I’m up again.
“Ugh, do I have to go?”
It really is embarrassing.
Ben stands and hooks his hands under my arms, forcing me. “C’mon, I’ll help you.”
We all know what that means. We’ve seen the movies. Ben’s going to stand behind me a little too close, touch me a little inappropriately, all in the name of sport. And, of course, because our friends are all mature adults, they whistle and catcall us as Ben moves up behind me.
“Oh yeah, Ben, show her how it’s done,” Andy says.
Ben flips him off.
“Oh, I’m not sure, Ben—do I stand like this?” Arianna mocks and okay, she’s funny, and I like her. Also, how dare she?
“Don’t listen to them,” Ben says, shuffling us toward the lane.
“This is a little cliché, you have to admit.” I smile and glance at him over my shoulder. Whoa—I didn’t realize he was right behind me. His lips are in danger of touching mine. Sure, I’d kind of have to go up on my tiptoes and
crane my neck, but still. Someone crank the air in here ASAP.
“I know,” he says with a shrug. “But you really suck and I can’t allow things to continue like this or there’s no hope of us winning.”
He leans down to arrange my feet so one’s staggered in front of the other. Then he loops one arm tightly around my waist so I’m forced to stay right there, pressed against him. His other hand wraps around my forearm so he can guide my arm back, showing me how to take aim before I let go of the ball.
“Got it?” he asks, breath on my neck.
“Show me again.”
“Oh my god.” Kevin laughs. “Did she really just say that?!”
Joke’s on them. When I do eventually roll the ball down the lane, I manage to sink five pins. I turn around and Ben’s there, smiling. I walk toward him to accept his double high fives. His fingers lace through mine and we stay like that for a few seconds longer than necessary. Eyes locked. Hearts pounding.
“Nice job.”
“Thanks. It was all in my form.”
He smiles. “You have really good form.”
Suddenly, we’re not talking about bowling.
Eli whistles. “Okay, just to be clear, that one totally doesn’t count. Ben basically bowled that turn for you.”
One game turns into two, then three. I have a second beer and my technique really improves. In one turn, I manage to knock down six pins. It’s a personal record. Kevin and Eli buy us all another round of nachos and some pepperoni pizza that looks barely edible. Of course, we all attack it like vultures.
“Not fair,” I groan, trying to steal the last slice from Ben. “I barely got any. I had to share mine with Kevin.”
He arches a brow and takes a massive bite. Half the slice is gone.
When he chews, he wears a little smirk.
I narrow my eyes. “Evil.”
He holds it out to me and the gesture is clear: take a bite. It’s nothing, I tell myself. Don’t read into it. I lean forward, eyes locked with his, and take a bite, ensuring I steal the last pepperoni. There’s a little sauce on my bottom lip and I lick it off. He’s wearing an expression I don’t quite recognize, one that makes my spine tingle, so I reach out for our beers and force his into his hand. We both take hefty swigs.
