Chapter 10
Bryce
The neon lights of the bowling alley cast a vibrant glow across the lanes. I need a break after this week, and celebrating Chris's birthday here seems like the perfect way to unwind.
"Bryce, my man! Glad you could make it," Chris calls out, his voice carrying over the sound of pins crashing.
I grin, joining him at our designated lane. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, man. Happy birthday, buddy."
He picks up a bowling ball, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Cheers, mate. Another year older, another year wiser, right?"
I chuckle. "Or in our case, another year closer to retirement."
Chris laughs, the sound mingling with the upbeat music playing in the background. "Speak for yourself, Bryce. I plan on acting until they have to wheel me onto the set."
"I thought you were considering a career change? Something about opening a surf shop in Bali?"
He shrugs. "Eh, just a pipe dream. Besides, where else am I gonna find a gig that pays as well as this?"
I nod in agreement, reaching for my bowling ball as I glance around the alley. The usual cast of characters fills the space—families enjoying a night out, groups of friends laughing and joking, and everything in between. It's a familiar scene, one that never fails to remind me of the simple joys in life, away from the fickle nature of fame and fortune.
It's why I cherish moments like these, spending time with a close friend and enjoying a slice of normalcy. In the midst of the chaos that often surrounds me, these brief respites are a welcome change of pace.
While preparing to take my turn, we're interrupted by the arrival of two girls who approach us with an air of confidence that borders on arrogance.
"Hey there, handsome," one of them purrs, batting her eyelashes in my direction. "Mind if we join you?"
I glance at Chris, exchanging a knowing look as we brace ourselves for the inevitable onslaught of flirtatious repartee. It's a scenario we've both grown accustomed to—the constant barrage of attention from eager admirers who see us as nothing more than objects of desire.
But tonight is different. I don’t know why, but I’m not really interested in the girls’ advances.
"I'm sorry, ladies, but we're in the middle of a conversation," I reply, my tone firm but polite.
The girls exchange a look of disbelief, clearly taken aback by my lack of interest. Usually, I’d indulge them. It's why I've got my far from graceful reputation with the ladies in the first place.
"Come on, don't be like that," the other one pouts, leaning in closer in a futile attempt to sway me.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes, my patience wearing thin as I try to maintain the fragile line between politeness and firmness. "I appreciate the offer, but we're not interested."
The girls take the hint and return to their lane, leaving Chris and me to resume our conversation in relative peace.
Chris shoots me a curious glance, sensing something amiss in my unusually subdued demeanor. "What's gotten into you, man? You usually eat this stuff up."
I shrug, my gaze drifting to the scoreboard as I struggle to find the right words to explain myself. "I don't know, man. Just not feeling it tonight, I guess."
"Come on. Live a little. It's my birthday, after all."
I give him a look, hoping he’ll take the hint and stop. But Chris isn’t that easy. He just keeps on.
"Or is there any lucky lady in your life these days?"
The question sends a pang through my chest as the image of Marissa flashes unbidden through my mind. I focus intently on selecting my bowling ball, avoiding Chris's gaze.
Chris arches an eyebrow, clearly not buying my devil-may-care attitude. "Hmm, really? You're telling me there's no one special catching your eye these days?"
I scoff, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "Please, you know me better than that. I'm not exactly the settling down type."
"We've been friends for years, and you don't turn women down. I know there's someone who's got you all twisted up inside."
I grit my teeth, refusing to take the bait. "You're imagining things. There's no one."
He raises an eyebrow, his grin widening into a knowing smirk. "But I heard you almost got into a fight with Jake on set, and your assistant saved you from yourself. I think she's called Marissa, if I'm not mistaken?"
My heart skips a beat at the mention of her name. "That's ridiculous. Marissa and I are just friends. Nothing more, nothing less."
But even as I speak the words, my stomach twists into knots, the ghost of her warmth still lingering on my arm.
I can almost smell her floral perfume again and feel how she tenses at my touch. Just friends, we are just friends.
Chris leans back in his seat, waiting for his turn. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say, buddy. But I haven't known anyone who can calm you down like that."
I roll my eyes, reaching for my bowling ball to hide the flush creeping up my cheeks. I'm not one to blush, so what in the ever-loving world is Marissa doing to me?
"You're imagining things. Marissa and I have known each other for years. There's no romantic feeling between us."
"Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that. But mark my words—one of these days, you're gonna wake up and realize that you're head over heels for her."
Shaking my head, I dismiss his words with a scoff. "Not gonna happen."
There's something about Marissa ... something that draws me to her like a moth to a flame. But I doubt she feels the same, anyway.
I remember the way she avoided my gaze. Who could love someone as damaged as I am, especially someone who left without any word?