12. Blyss Monroe
Blyss Monroe
T hursday nights, I usually went bowling with a group from work ,
but since they canceled, I asked Kase if he wanted to tag along.
We pulled up to Blowout Alleys and somehow found a lane tucked in the back, quiet, dimly lit, and perfect for keeping a low profile.
Which should’ve been the first red flag, because Kase?
He doesn’t do low profile. But he insisted he wasn’t himself tonight, yet still wanted to be cool.
Truth be told, he was doing a terrible job at it.
He kept tripping over his own feet, throwing gutter balls like it was personal. I was cracking up.
“This is crazy. I keep falling,” he said, staring down at his feet like they betrayed him. “I wonder if it’s the shoes.”
“Or,” I grinned, “You might just have two left feet.”
“Really? You doing me like that?”
“I am,” I laughed. “But if I kiss you, then it’s okay if I clown.”
He smirked. “You just like me?”
“Maybe.”
I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him, soft and quick. He gently wrapped his arms around me like he was afraid to break something. Even when four beautiful girls with their boobs hanging out passed by, clearly his type, he didn’t flinch. In fact, he pulled me closer and kissed my cheek.
“I don’t understand why women dress like that,” he mumbled near my ear.
“To get men like you to pay attention,” I said.
“Truth is, women like that? I wouldn’t take 'em to meet my mama.”
“Oh yeah? Then who would you take?”
He looked me dead in the eye. “Someone like you. You’re respectable.”
Although, I knew his mama. I couldn’t lie, my chest did a lil’ jump at that.
This was the same man who used to chase after every thick girl in a Fashion Nova dress with a bounce to her step.
He was just mirroring all the things I had thought about him .
I shook off the thought and tried to focus back on bowling.
The girls were still over there, fake giggling and bending like they’d never seen a bowling ball in their lives.
Desperate heffas. But Kase didn’t budge.
He waved at me instead, then turned back toward the lane, strutting like his shoes cost more than the whole building, talking trash, spinning the ball in his hands like he was LeBron at the free throw line.
“Watch this,” he said, flashing that cocky grin like he was about to change bowling history.
What Ishould’vedone was move. Kase pulled the ball back, way too far back, and on the forward swing, he lost control. The ball flew out of his hand sideways like it had a personal vendetta and came crashing downsquare on some man’s footwith a sickeningthud as he was walking past us.
While the man was busy dying, Kase panicked .
Tried to catch his balance and instead launched himself forward like a damn linebacker.
Before I could blink, he crashedstraight into an old ladysitting behind us.
The collision was violent. Her cane hit the ground.
Her wig took off like it had somewhere to be.
And her dentures, I swear to God , shifted.
Kase hit her so hard, she spun sideways like a bowling pin and made a sound that didn’t belong on this earth.
But wait, he bounced off her and went face-first into a tray of nachos. Then, a child screamed,
“HE KILLED GRANDMA!”
Even with all the chaos, it was still the best date I’d ever been on.