64. First Time Bowling
FIRST TIME BOWLING
Shiver [Ed Sheeran]
The lady raises her brows when I join Dylan in using those bumper things. I want to explain that this is my first time bowling, but I don’t think she’ll believe me. So, I let Conner deal with her as I sit with Sammy and place the plastic, hard-as-rock shoes on my feet.
They hurt to walk in.
After Conner grabs his shoes, he points to the lane where we are in the far-right corner.
Sammy and Dylan grab bowling balls as if that’s the ones they always use.
I hover beside Conner as he picks up balls, testing them before putting them down.
I try, and my eyes widen at the weight of them.
All of them are heavy as if I were holding a dumbbell.
“Noya,” Conner says, keeping his voice low. “I think you should try that rack over there.”
I glance at a rack with lighter-coloured bowling balls and grimace, but comply. I grab a green ball and am surprised at how light it is. Then, I look at the sign above it, and my stomach drops at the kids’ bowling ball sign. I turn to Conner’s crooked smile and glare as I march toward him again.
We head to Dylan and Sammy. Sammy wrote our names in.
I think she wants to flex because she put herself and Dylan last while Conner is up first. I sit with my bowling ball in my lap when I notice their balls are on a turnbuckle.
Quickly putting my ball there, I hear bowling pins shatter, and when I straighten up, Conner is heading back towards us. Behind him, all the pins are down.
“Wow,” I breathe.
He kisses me on the forehead and whispers, “Your turn, baby.”
I grab my pale green ball when Conner comes up behind me. As he takes my hand and glides it across the smooth ball, I stiffen, slipping my thumb, middle finger, and ring finger into the holes.
He follows me to the bowling alley. I stand before the line when Conner grabs my waist and pulls me back two steps.
His mouth is exceptionally close to my ear.
“Now, you’re going to swing your arm back, but keep it straight.
Like this.” I hitch a breath when his hand glides down my arm, and then moves it backwards.
I can feel his heartbeat pressing into my back.
“After it’s there, and you swing it forward, take a step forward, bend slightly and let your fingers release from the ball. ”
I suck in a breath and nod.
“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” He nips my ear, sending a shudder of delight across my stomach.
Okay. Here goes nothing.
I pull my arm back, and as I swing it forward, I take a step and let the ball glide… right into the bumpers. The ball slams against it, bounces to the other side, hits into that, and then moves near the middle and hits five of the pins.
That’s good, right!?
I turn around, proud of myself, until I see Sammy and Dylan snickering.
I pout. Guess not.
I slump in my seat, and Conner wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into him. “You did wonderfully, Noya.”
“Then why are they laughing at me?” I mope.
“If I could help, pay close attention to your wrist next time you bowl. You were flicking it slightly to the left.”
I stare at my hands. “Oh…”
“But you did great for your first time bowling.”
I straighten up and grin. “Thank you.”
“Conner, your turn,” Dylan calls.
“Now watch me destroy them,” he whispers, those hazel eyes alight with energy.
There it is. The competitive side of Conner escapes him. I’ve seen it a fair few times. Playing against our friends is no exception.
After a few more games, in which I came last, we ate some food. We order our food. As I grab the order number and place it on the table, I notice Conner near the arcade area. I excuse myself when I witness Dylan’s tongue down Sammy’s throat and stand beside my boyfriend.
“Maybe we can play a few games after we eat,” Conner suggests.
“I’d like that.”
Conner turns to me and moves his arms around me. Now suddenly aware of my surroundings, I blush and turn away when he goes to lean in for a kiss. Then, he pauses, leans away, and turns his head to the speaker. “I like this song,” he declares.
“What is it?” I ask.
“‘Shiver’ by Ed Sheeran,” he answers.
A wicked grin broadens on his face, and I immediately know what he’s thinking. “Conner,” I warn.
He sings, and his broad arms cage me like a mouse cornered by a cat.
Conner leans in, his voice seductive and low as he mouths the words near my jaw, pulling me closer into his embrace.
I laugh, pressing my forehead against his.
His fingers drag across my eyes, jaw and lips while his mouth inches closer and closer until we kiss.
My arms wrap around his shoulders, and I don’t care who’s watching. I’m madly in love with this boy.