“Well, I will give you a hint.”
He takes my hand and walks with me stride for stride all the way down to the driveway to his waiting very large truck.
“Hit me with it. I’m great at guessing with hints.”
We pause on the passenger side and he opens the door for me to climb in.
“This date is a classic.”
I huff and roll my eyes. “That’s your hint? It’s so broad!”
“That’s the point.” He closes the door and comes around to the driver’s side.
“There are so many classic dates.”
“But this one brings out true colors. Are you very competitive?”
“I will fight you to win, regardless of what the competition is,” I say, mostly joking, but not really.
He tosses his head back and laughs. “Perfect.”
***
“I haven’t been bowling in years, literally. The last time I went, I think I was fifteen or sixteen, and it was because I was invited to a boy’s birthday party. I had a crush on him, so I wanted to impress him. I wore my favorite miniskirt and the cutest shoes.” I plop down on to the vinyl-covered, sofa-style bench at our reserved lane and hold up the rental shoes. “I didn’t remember we had to wear these monstrosities.” I toe my white Vans sneakers from my feet and pull the bowling shoes on. “There I was, trying to be cute, in a miniskirt with clown shoes on.”
“You should have worn a miniskirt today. Who knows, maybe skirts and bowling shoes are my thing?” He grins at me, before bending over to tie his shoelaces.
“Trust me, that’s nobody’s thing.”
The red sofa is in the shape of a U with the computer in the middle for us to input our names and to keep score. He’s sitting on the other side, directly across from me, but soon he slides around in front of the monitor.
This particular bowling alley is one of the most popular in the area apparently, because every single lane is occupied with couples, families, and groups of friends of many different ages. The skid, whirl, and crash of the balls sliding down the lane and colliding with the pins, mixed with the wide variety of pop tunes blaring from the overhead speakers, makes me feel like a carefree teenager again.
“What should our names be?” he asks, angling his gaze toward me.
“We wouldn’t just use our real names?”
“Nah, where’s the fun in that? They go up on the big screen above us so everyone can see. Let’s make it interesting.”
I smile and tap my chin. “How about I pick your name and you pick mine?”
“I like the way you think.” He places his fingers on the touch screen, hovering them for a moment while he thinks, and then he finally types something out. “Perfect.” He leans back in his seat with a proud as hell grin on his incredibly handsome face.
I look up at the screen hanging over our lane and burst out laughing.
“Wanda Wannadoher? Oh my God, what are we? Fourteen?” I shake my head.
“It’s funny and you know it.” He’s smiling like a boy who is thrilled with his joke. It’s pretty adorable.
“Move over, stud, I have some payback to send your way.” I crack my knuckles in a mock show of preparation, like I’m coming in for a fight.
I think for a moment, but it doesn’t take long until my fingers are flying over the screen and pressing enter, sending his new name for the evening up to the screen.
He squints a bit to read the screen then laughs loudly. “Willie Eetmioutt? Seriously?”
“Seemed like the perfect match for Wanda Wannadoher, wouldn’t you say?”
“You, Wanda, fight dirty, and I like it.” He points at me. “Let’s go pick out our balls, and don’t even come at me with the puns and that’s what she said jokes that are hiding in that sentence.”
I snap my fingers, my voice laced with sarcasm, “Damn, that’s the only thing I have going for me, ya know? You can’t take away my need to call out innuendos.”
“A hot woman who appreciates a dirty pun? On second thought, always tell me when anything dirty is in your head.”
I roll my eyes and follow him over to the rack that contains bowling balls in every weight and color I can think of. He selects a dark, hunter green one for himself and tests the weight in his hands before nodding.
“This will work,” he says to me.
“I like that color.” I slide my hands over a few of the lighter ones on the lower racks and pull out a bright, icy blue one.
“I like that color for you too,” he leans in a bit to whisper in my ear. “It reminds me of your eyes.”
I drop my eyes closed as the tickle of his breath on my skin makes me shiver deliciously, and when I open my eyes, he’s already ten paces away from me.
“Are you coming, Wanda?” he chuckles back at me.
“Right behind you, Willie.”
I have a feeling this date is going to be one I remember forever.
Isaac
Deep into our third game, she inhales deeply.
“Do you smell that?” She picks up a mozzarella stick from the basket on the small table in front of us.
“Smell what?”
“Victory.” She smirks and munches into the fried snack, proud of herself.
“You haven’t won yet.” I point to the screen above us. “I have my turn left and if I get a strike, your ass is mine.” I tilt my beer toward her. “And as you can see, strikes are my bread and butter.”
“I’m not scared.” She takes a sip of her own beer. “You see, because this win will put me ahead of you, two wins to one win, and if we are going best three out of five, the odds are so in my favor that it’s unreal.”
It has taken us a couple of hours to arrive at the end of our
