by Tanith Morse
Trying to regain my composure, I stared down at my own fingernails. They looked terrible because I had a bad habit of chewing them when I was nervous. I wanted to chew them now.
Hastily, I plunged my hands in my pockets, feeling self-conscious. I didn’t want the immaculate Lee to see how ratty my fingers were.
“So Sam, what are you studying at school?”
Lee had turned in my direction, and his question startled me. I answered flatly, “English, History, and Photography.”
“You’re into photography?” he asked eagerly. “What a coincidence. So am I. Who’s your favorite photographer?”
“Annie Leibovitz,” I murmured.
“My favorite’s Robert Capa. His pictures are amazing. Have you ever seen any of his stuff?”
“Yeah, he’s great,” I said, although I had no idea who Robert Capa was.
“I like that Mario Testicle guy,” Becky blurted.
“Mario who?” Frasier asked, frowning.
“You know, that man who does all the Vogue and Vanity Fair covers.”
“Oh, you mean Mario Testino,” Lee corrected her.
Frasier laughed so hard I thought he was going to choke. “What did you call him, Becky? Mario Testicle? Was that a Freudian slip or what?”
“I never said that!” Becky’s face went beet red. “Sam, did you hear me use the word ‘testicle’?”
I bit my lip, trying not to laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Lee flashed a dynamite smile at me. His teeth were so white, they looked artificial. I could see his eyes properly now, and they were beautifully dark and intense. I balled my hands into fists, trying to play it cool.
“What are you doing this Friday, Lee?” Becky asked, changing the subject.
“I’m not sure. Why?”
“A gang of us are going to the bowling alley. We’re looking to meet around six o’clock, if you’re interested.”
“Sounds good,” Lee replied with a nod. “Count me in.”
Becky looked elated.
This was the first I’d heard of any bowling trip. Becky’s a fast mover, I’ll give her that.
As if sensing my uneasiness, Lee turned to me and asked, “Are you guys coming bowling, too?”
“Yes, they are,” Becky said before either Frasier or I could respond.
Frasier looked surprised. “Since when? I didn’t know anything about a bowling trip.”
Becky shot me a pleading glance, and I decided to play along. “Yeah, I’m going, too,” I said.
Becky sighed, then mouthed the words “Thank you” at me.
Lee glanced at his watch. “Wow, look at the time. Sorry, guys, I have to go. I’ve got a life drawing class this evening.” He stood. “It was nice meeting you all. Sam, Frasier. I’ll see you on Friday.”
Becky smoothed her skirt as she stood. “You will definitely come? You aren’t just saying that?” There was a distinct air of desperation in her voice.
“I never break a promise,” Lee said. “You’ll definitely be seeing me.” With that, he tucked his sketch pad under his arm and made for the exit doors.
For a good two minutes after he’d gone, Becky stared at his empty seat, a faraway look in her eyes.
Frasier snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Earth to Becky. That … was one of the most sickening displays of sycophantic behavior I’ve ever seen!”
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
“Come on, you were practically drooling all over his sweater,” Frasier said, fluttering his eyelashes seductively. “Oh, Lee, you’re so talented. Oh, Lee, you’ve got such a cute accent. It was embarrassing. You should never throw yourself at a guy like that.”
Becky waved her hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, as if I’d take advice from you. And for your information, Frasier, I was not throwing myself at him. I was just being friendly.”
“Right.” Frasier looked at me for support, but I just smiled. Friday was going to be very interesting.
We stayed at the library another half hour or so and then said our goodbyes at the bus stop. By the time I got home, it was past seven. Mum was working late again, and the house seemed eerily quiet—maybe too quiet. I quickly assembled a tuna and cucumber sandwich before I started my daily workout.
As I peddled the cross-trainer, working up a sweat, I examined myself critically in the mirrored wardrobe. I had mixed feelings about my body. I liked that I was toned, but I hated being so flat-chested. My waist was tiny, but no matter how much I exercised, my thighs stayed chunky. I hated them. I’d never have dared to wear a skirt as short as Becky’s. In fact, I didn’t wear skirts at all, because of my thighs. Feminine clothes just didn’t hang right on my body.
When I’d finished my session, I took a long, hot bath. Every part of my body had been pushed to the limit, and the muscle soak really helped to soothe my aching joints. As the steamy water engulfed me, the unease I’d felt since my afternoon at the library evaporated. I started to feel a little more like myself again.
After my bath, I threw on an old dressing gown and went to the kitchen to make some coffee. The refrigerator purred softly as I felt around in the darkness for the light switch. When I found it, I went over to the sideboard and selected my favorite mug from the rack. For long moments I stood by the sink, staring into space, twirling the mug around and around under the cold tap. I fell into a trance as images from the library flashed before me: The alluring fullness of Lee’s lips. The way his sweater clung to his body. The inviting scent of his cologne.
Finally, I shook my head, mentally telling myself to get a grip. I turned off the tap, opened the cupboard, took out the coffee jar, and stirred a scoop into my cup. Then I leaned against the wall, sipping my coffee and again thinking about Lee. His beauty spot was an imperfection that somehow made him seem even more perfect. I wondered what his hair looked like under that baseball cap.
The sound of a loud crash startled me from my daydream. I glanced down and realized that the mug had slipped from my fingers and smashed to the floor. Scalding coffee was seeping through my slippers. With trembling hands, I took out the dustpan and swept up the pieces, and then mopped up the coffee.
When the clean-up was over, I stood in the middle of the floor, listening to the sound of my own breathing and the rapid beating of my heart. This isn’t like me. Why should someone I spoke to for five minutes have such an effect on me? Plus, I knew Becky had already laid claim to Lee. I had no business thinking about him at all.
Shaking my head, I switched off the lights and went back to my bedroom. But I didn’t get much sleep.
THREE
The Game
All Star Bowling Alley was located on Elmfield High Street at the end of a long line of family-owned businesses. It was sort of a converted warehouse and, except for the neon sign out front, it wasn’t anything special to look at. Inside, however, was a whole different story.
When you walked through the door, the place was decked out like a ‘50s American diner. Very swanky. On one side there was the bowling alley and a reception area where people checked in. On the other side was a bar with a half dozen tables where they served real American food all night: ribs, burgers, fried chicken, and corn on the cob.
I got there about six. Instead of my baggies I’d opted for a Fred Perry shirt and chinos—nothing too flashy, but a step up from the usual. Tonight, for some reason, I felt like making more of an effort. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I no longer felt self-conscious about people recognizing me. I decided that, tonight, I was going to be myself—and to hell with the consequences.
Becky and the others were waiting for me over by the reception area. I recognized a couple of people from St. Mary’s: Jermaine, Marie, and sour-faced Hannah. I assumed the others were friends of Becky’s from outside school. There were about fourteen of us—but Lee and Frasier hadn’t arrived yet.
Damn. I hope they’re still coming. I don’t like being stuck with a group of strangers.
“
Hey, Sam!” Becky shouted, rushing up to me. “So glad you could make it. I love the new look. That shirt is so cute on you! Come on, let me introduce you to everyone.”
She took my hand and led me toward the group of strangers. As she reeled off the names, I studied Becky closely. It looked as if I wasn’t the only who had decided to make an extra effort—but Becky’s was off the Richter scale. Her makeup was so heavy there were obvious lines of foundation between her face and neck. Her lips were shiny and her bleached blonde hair was swept up off her face in a French pleat. To top it off, her pink shorts were so tight they looked as if they were going to split any second.
“Come on,” she said after the introductions. “Let’s get you some shoes and a ball. And don’t worry about paying for the game—I’ve already settled that for you. But you’ll still need change for the cloakroom.”
“Oh, right,” I said, rummaging through my pockets.
I finally found some money, paid the girl at the desk, then handed her my coat.
“What shoe size are you?” Becky inquired.
“Four,” I replied.
“Wow, your feet are so tiny! I’m a clod-hopping size eight.” She scanned the rows of cubbyholes behind the desk, which contained dozens of pairs of red, blue, and white panelled shoes. “Can we have a pair of size fours, please?” As the girl went away to get them, Becky’s voice lowered to a whisper. “Do you think he’s coming?”
“Who?”
“Lee. It’s quarter to seven and there’s still no sign of him. I did tell him six o’clock, didn’t I?”
“Yes, I think so.”
Becky bit her lip as her eyes darted around the room. “Oh, I hope he doesn’t let me down. I really want to see him again.”
Before I could say anything, I felt a light tap on my shoulder. I turned around and saw Frasier standing behind me. His face was sweaty, as if he’d run a marathon, and there were damp patches under the arms of his camel trench coat. On his feet were what looked suspiciously like black-and-white tap shoes. Typical Frasier.
“Sorry, I’m late,” he panted. “The bus broke down and I had to run like a lunatic to get here.”
Becky shook her head. “Well, at least you got here.”
“Has Prince Charming arrived yet?” Frasier asked.
“Not yet,” I replied.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s on his way. He’s probably just stuck in traffic or something.” Becky sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than anyone else.
“Looks like you might have been stood up,” Frasier said, taking off his coat and handing it to the girl at the desk. He didn’t see the look Becky threw his way at that remark. When he turned around, he asked, “When does this game start? I’ve got to tell you, Becks, I haven’t a clue how to bowl, so you’re going to have to teach me.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “That makes two of us. We can support each other.”
“Hi, Sam, how are you?” I heard one of the group say.
I turned and saw it was Hannah. “I’m fine thanks,” I said, flashing my best fake smile.
Her small piggy eyes narrowed to slits. “Are you guys ready to start yet? Some of us have been here since six.”
“Well, if we’re taking up too much of your precious time, you can always go home, you know,” Frasier snapped.
The expression on Hannah’s face was priceless—like a stunned toad. Obviously, she wasn’t used to being spoken to that way, but I loved Frasier at that moment.
Just as Hannah opened her mouth to respond, her eyes focused on something beyond me. I followed her gaze and saw Lee walking through the front door. He spotted me, waved, and started toward us.
“Holy mother of god,” Hannah said, putting her hand over her mouth. “Who is that?”
I didn’t answer. I was too busy trying to control my own breathing. Every female eye was on Lee, and even a number of guys stopped what they were doing to watch him walk across the room. He looked hot as hell in all black and his body had the pumped up glow you get when you’ve just finished a workout at the gym.
“Lee, you made it!” Becky squealed as she raced over. She seemed to want to hug him, but caught herself just in time. “Let me introduce you to my friends. They’re absolutely dying to meet you. I’ve told them so much about you.”
Lee flashed his amazing smile and said, “All good, I hope.”
“Of course, silly,” Becky scolded. “I told them what a wonderful artist you are. Did you bring any of your sketches?”
“No. I didn’t know I was supposed to,” Lee replied. Then he looked at me. “Hi, Sam. Hi, Frasier. Good to see you guys again.”
I smiled weakly, hoping I didn’t pass out from forgetting how to breathe. I turned away to hide my embarrassment and walked over to the orange chairs in our lane to put on my bowling shoes. Frasier followed close behind, carrying his ball, a hefty sports bag, and a pair of shoes.
“Well, Becky certainly looks happy, doesn’t she?” he said quietly as he sat next to me.
“Yes, she does,” I replied as matter-of-factly as possible.
I slid on the bowling shoes. They were a bit tight at first, but I quickly got used to them. As I took a few steps, my gaze turned briefly back to what was happening across the room. I just couldn’t help myself. Becky was gesticulating wildly as she introduced Lee to everyone, touching his arm at every opportunity. Lee’s back was turned, so I couldn’t tell how he was taking it all, but I could picture the look of amusement on his face.
“Okay, let’s see how this works.” Frasier nodded toward the lanes on either side of us, where several of Becky’s friends had begun bowling.
For the next ten minutes we sat watching the game, trying to figure out the rules. It did look like they were having fun, but I wasn’t looking forward to making a spectacle of myself when my turn came. My sporting ability had always been a bit of a mixed bag. I was great at football, but I sucked at tennis and volleyball. Time would tell about my bowling skills.
“Hey, are you guys okay over there?” Lee said, prying himself away from Becky for a moment in the lane to our left.
Frasier smiled and gave him the thumbs up. “We’re good, thanks.”
“It’ll be your turn in a minute.”
“Can’t wait,” Frasier said, and I thought it sounded sincere.
We watched intently as Lee glided up to one of the lanes and rolled his ball with expert precision, his movements fluid and graceful. In one throw, he demolished all ten pins.
“Yes!” Lee punched the air triumphantly as everyone cheered. Then he turned to us and said, “Okay, it’s your turn now.”
I shrugged my shoulders and felt heat creeping up my neck like a snake. I hadn’t really been watching Lee’s approach. I’d been preoccupied with how well his jeans fit.
Lee handed me a ball. “Okay, Sam, give it your best shot.”
I got up and walked up to the lane, acutely aware that everyone was watching me. The ball was much heavier than I’d imagined and I was having trouble just holding on to it. Then, trying hard to focus, I took two steps, dipped, and rolled the ball. It landed with a dull thud on the wood and crashed into the gutter.
I squirmed and glanced sheepishly at Frasier. “Um, I guess that didn’t go too well.”
“You can say that again,” Frasier said, laughing heartily.
“Is this your first time?” Lee asked.
I nodded dumbly.
“I’m sorry,” Lee said sympathetically. “You should have told me. No problem. I’ll teach you.”
“No, I’m okay,” I lied. “I know how to bowl, really. I probably just had something in my eye.”
“Uh huh! A likely story,” Frasier laughed, shaking his head knowingly.
Lee walked over to the rack and found me a much lighter ball. He handed it to me, then turned me to face the lane, his hands on my shoulders. Looking at his hands, I noticed that he was wearing a gold medallion ring to cover his tattoo.
“Okay, to st
art with, your posture’s all wrong,” said Lee. “You’ve got to roll the ball. Don’t throw it. That’s a mistake all newbies make.”
As he leaned forward to position my arms, his cheek softly brushed against mine, which sent my mind racing in every direction except bowling.
“Do you work out?” he whispered.
“What?” I said, my body stiffening.
“Do you work out at the gym?”
I could feel his breath against my earlobe. “Yes, a little. Nothing major.”
“I can tell. Your arms feel pretty toned.”
I smiled as the smell of his cologne filled my senses, struggling to think straight.
“Okay, now close your eyes and try to imagine there’s no one else here but you. Not me, not Frasier, not anyone. Just focus on your target—those bowling pins at the end of the lane.”
Taking a deep breath, I glided forward and rolled the ball. This time it sped down the aisle and knocked down six.
It was my turn to punch the air. “Yes!”
“That was really good for your first try, Sam,” Lee said with a broad smile. “You see? That wasn’t so hard, was it? All it takes is a bit of practice. You’ll get the hang of it.”
“I might need some help, too,” Becky cooed, walking over and quickly placing herself between Lee and me.
She glared at me briefly then turned back to Lee and gushed, “You’re such a good teacher. I think I could use a few lessons myself.”
She linked her arm through his and led him to her lane.
Lee glanced over his shoulder as he walked away and called, “Just remember, Sam, stay focused on the target and you’ll be fine.”
“Now, do you think he can teach me, too?” Frasier joked as I sat next to him.
“Ha, ha, very funny.”
“But all joking aside, that was actually quite good, Sam.”
I smiled thinly, but I wasn’t really listening. I was busy watching what was going on in Becky’s lane. She was shrieking with laughter as Lee stood behind her, just as he’d done with me. I watched her flirting, giggling, and tucking her hair behind her ear. Then I saw his fingers drop to her waist—and my heart sank. There was nothing special about me. Lee would have done the same for anyone. I silently cursed myself for being so naïve.
