You Deserve Each Other(92)

A man in the lane to our right is bowling alone. I know he can hear my family arguing, because even though I keep telling them to keep their voices down their hissing ends up being just as loud. Also, he’s glanced in our direction a few times.

“Can I pretend I’m here with you?” I ask him jokingly. I’m holding a glittering nine-pound ball I got from behind the counter. I use children’s bowling balls because my strengths lie in the mental arena rather than physical. I’m also not above requesting bumpers.

“Sure.” He smiles at me, and my stomach does a little flip. He’s got cute, wavy brown hair that curls slightly where it falls across his forehead, and an honest smile. Kind eyes.

“Thanks. My family never learned how to behave in public.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “My family could give them a run for their money, believe me.”

Kelly’s in tears. I hear her call Aaron an asshole for stealing five dollars from her purse to get a bag of weed from someone he just met in the bathroom, and I agree with her. He calls her an asshole right back because she once reported him to the IRS for not disclosing $125.00 he made staining our uncle’s porch, so I agree with him too.

“Can’t believe that, sorry,” I deadpan, and we both laugh. I jerk my thumb at my siblings. “They probably haven’t been great for your concentration.”

“I have been a little distracted,” he admits. Then he slides me a long look. “But it isn’t because of them.”

I think he’s flirting. Is he? I become a cliché and turn around to make sure he’s not actually addressing someone standing right behind me. Nobody’s there.

His lips curve into a smile. “So, family issues aside, you seem pretty nice.”

Do I? “I’m all right.”

“And I’m nice,” he says, hedging.

I’m cautious as I reply, “You might be.”

“I’ve also been told I’m pretty cute.” Yes, definitely flirting. My insides light up and play eight-bit music like I’ve won a game of pinball.

“You might be.”

He grins, because I’m flirting right back. “You should go out with me tonight,” he says casually, not breaking eye contact as he sends the ball skittering down his lane. I hear it break against a battalion of pin soldiers, but neither of us checks to see how he scored. We’re staring at each other.

“On a date?”

“Yes.”

There’s nothing for me to do but laugh. I don’t know this man. I don’t live anywhere near Eau Claire. Our paths are never going to cross again. “Sure, I’ll go out with you,” I tell him. “If you manage to knock down all your pins right now.”

He studies the pins he’s got left. He’s just bowled a split. His ball shot clean through the middle, knocking them all down except for the one on the far left and the one on the far right. Unless he’s secretly a professional bowler who can curve gravity, there’s no way he can bump off both foes. They’re too far apart for him to ping one off the other, so the odds of getting a spare are astronomical.

His eyes glint. “You promise?”

I pause before I reply. I’d have to be an idiot to root for him, so that’s what I do. “Sure, I promise.”

As soon as the word leaves my mouth he starts walking right down the center of the lane and knocks over both pins with his shoe. He turns on his heel with a flourish, his reflection spanning over a shining, waxed floor, and sends me a devilish grin. I have to admit he’s got me. The screen over our heads explodes with digital confetti and the letters for the word SPARE! tumble down with a cacophony like a bag of spilled coconuts.

He looks pleased with himself. There’s an undeniable chemistry between us that tempts me to lean a little closer. Explore it. I should walk away, but I won’t, because there’s something here. It sucks that I live so far away. He won’t bother once he hears I’m long-distance. But I have to let him know.

“I’m not local.”

“I know,” he replies, winking at a bowling alley worker who witnessed his stunt and is sending him a stern frown. “You’re from Morris.”

“When did I tell you that?”

“You didn’t. I saw you there myself about two weeks ago loading groceries into your trunk. I live in Morris, too.”

My mouth falls open.

He’s delighted by my shock. “I wanted to walk over and say hi, but figured a strange man approaching you in a dark, mostly empty parking lot while you were alone wasn’t the way to go.” He lifts a shoulder like, Hey what can you do. “But I thought about it after that, wishing I could have another shot at it. How great would it be, to get a second chance? I’ve even gone back to that store a couple times, in case I might see you again.”

I’m gaping at him, and I look over my shoulder to see if my family’s eavesdropping. They’re gone. They’ve left without saying good-bye, and it’s just the two of us—me and this strange, increasingly dazzling man whose name I don’t even know.

“Every year for my birthday, I go to my parents’ house and my mom puts candles on a cake,” he tells me. “Some Facebook friends from college write on my wall to say hey, and I wait until the day’s almost over to reply because I want it to seem like I had better things to do all day than count how many happy birthdays I got. I never go anywhere else or really do anything. Today I woke up and felt like going bowling. It’s the first birthday I’ve ever spent completely by myself. I didn’t want to go to a bowling alley close to where I live because I didn’t want to run into anyone I know, so I looked up other places online and found this one. Picked it at random. Eau Claire.”