Chapter 4
FOUR
Isla
I’m meeting Eddie tonight at the local bowling spot, Alley Cats.
When we were texting earlier this week to set the date, he asked me what I wanted to do, and I suggested bowling. Not because I’m any good at it, but because I thought it was better than sitting and staring at each other across a dinner table in the middle of a restaurant. We can eat and drink while we play, but the distraction of the game will disperse those awkward moments.
Let’s face it, we’re not going out together tonight because he chose to ask me out. He didn’t seek me out at a bar. We didn’t have a cute exchange in the supermarket’s produce department. We’re going out to fulfill the fact my grandma paid seven hundred dollars for him. When we texted, I tried to give him an out, but he assured me he was a man of his word and that he’d see the date through. Those aren’t exactly the words of a man looking forward to a date with me.
Another sign that tells me this is just a box he has to check as far as he’s concerned is the fact that he wanted to go out on a Thursday rather than a Friday or Saturday like most normal dates. I have to work tomorrow morning, and yeah, it’s my last day before I start my new job on Monday, but I take pride in my work. I don’t want to show up exhausted and-slash-or hungover even if I don’t expect that I’ll be asked to do too much tomorrow.
Whatever. Eddie is hot, but if he’s not into me, that’s fine. I’m not going to beg a man to like me. It hits a sore spot I still have from my last serious relationship. We can go out, hopefully have a fun night together, make our grandmas happy, then go our separate ways. No harm, no foul.
In my rearview mirror, I check my makeup one last time and tighten my ponytail before pulling out a few face-framing wisps. I’m wearing jeans and a pink bodysuit tank, not wanting to look like I put too much effort into it.
I’m nervous as I walk through the doors to the bowling alley. The sounds of balls rolling down the wooden lanes and the sharp sounds of them knocking into pins echoes throughout the space, mixed with the music pumping out overhead.
Eddie stands just inside the door, hands shoved in his pockets. He’s wearing an olive green T-shirt that looks as though it’s been laundered the perfect amount of times to make it soft. It hugs his biceps and pectorals perfectly—not too tight, not too loose. He has jeans on and, damn, a backward hat. Why is that so hot on guys?
I smile as I approach, and he returns it, although his smile is strained.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” he says, his eyes falling to my chest for a brief second.
“Good to see you again,” I say, hating that I’m making more effort than him.
“Same.” I get the feeling Eddie is almost always serious, or at least a man of few words.
“You ready to get your butt kicked?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood and ease the awkwardness between us.
He snickers, and I count that as a win. “We’ll see about that.”
We approach the counter, pay for our games, and get our shoes. I can’t help but take note of the size of the shoe Eddie requests, then I glance at his feet, wondering if the correlation between shoe size versus penis size is valid. When he catches me, my face heats, and I turn away.
We take our shoes and walk over to lane thirteen, which we were assigned. Once I’m settled on the bench, I slide off my sandals and realize my error.
Eddie shakes his head at me, staring at my bare feet. “Rookie mistake.”
I nibble on my bottom lip momentarily and look at him. “I don’t think I can do it. I don’t think I can stick my bare feet into these.” I hold up the worn bowling shoes that no doubt hundreds of people have worn before me.
“Oh, c’mon. A little foot fungus never hurt anyone.” He slides his sock-covered foot into one of the shoes.
A full-body shiver racks through me, and I shake my head several times, causing my ponytail to flick back and forth, hitting me in the face. “I can’t do it. I can’t.”
Eddie tugs on his other shoe. “I’ll go see if they sell any socks.” He stands and sets his hands on his hips.
“I’ll go. I should pay for it. It’s my mistake.” I slide my sandals back on and stand.
Eddie’s large hands clamp down on my shoulders, and he gently nudges me back down to sit. “I’ve got it.”
His voice is stern and grumpy, but he’s doing a thoughtful, nice deed for me. The juxtaposition is somewhat jarring. I’m not sure how to take this guy.
He returns a couple of minutes later with a pair of basic white socks, and I swear it feels as though they’re the best gift anyone has ever given me.
“You’re a lifesaver, thank you.” I slide them over my petal-pink-painted toenails, then I put on the shoes and tie them.
“Did you want to grab a drink from the bar first?” he asks.
“Sure.” A little alcohol to relax would be welcome. Maybe it will loosen him up.
We head over to the bar, and the older man working there comes right over. The scent of cigarettes accosts me once he’s in our vicinity. He must have just returned from his break. “What can I get ya?”
Eddie motions for me to order first, so I say, “I’ll have a seltzer—anything citrusy is fine.”
The bartender nods and turns his attention to Eddie.
“Bourbon neat, please.”
Without a word, the bartender turns around to start on our order. I get the sense that Eddie would be fine standing here waiting in silence until our drinks are delivered, but I’ve always found silence to be uncomfortable.
“Did you have a good day?” It’s the most basic of questions, but it’s all that comes to mind.
Eddie blows out a breath and readjusts the hat on his head, leaving it on backward. “No, it was a shit day in what’s been a shit week.”
I let out a low whistle. “Okay then, no work talk. Got it.”
One corner of his mouth pulls up. “Sorry, I’d rather not think about it. Just one of those weeks. Everything that could go wrong did.”
I nod. “I’ve had those before.”
“Thank God I’m leaving for vacation for two weeks tomorrow night,” he grumbles.
So maybe that’s why he had us meet tonight instead of this weekend? I perk up a bit, but then it shows he wanted to check this box off before he left too. And what do I care? I’m here for my grandma, and that’s it. And we’re definitely opposites. Pulling him into a conversation is like taking a dog to the vet’s office. Hard and painful.
The bartender slides our drinks in front of us. When I reach into my purse, Eddie’s hand on my wrist stops me. Our eyes meet, and my heart pounds faster as I look into his deep brown eyes.
“I’ve got it.” He lets go of my wrist, and I wonder if I’m the only one who felt that pull between us.
“Thanks.” My voice is weak, unlike my pulse. I take a generous sip of my drink while Eddie pays.
Once he’s done, he turns to me. “Let’s get this underway so I can mop the floor with you.”
I like his banter. Finally, maybe we’re heading somewhere.
I grin. “I regret to inform you that I was in a bowling league as a kid.”
Probably shouldn’t have started with that hidden fact of my life. I haven’t bowled in years, but I still remember my skills.
“Guess we’ll see how much you remember.” He smirks and walks back toward our lane.
I enjoy the view of his perfect ass before hurrying to catch up. I’m not sure about his personality—he’s a hard one to figure out—but he’s definitely nice to look at.