Make Me Bad(42)

“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, deciding 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?”