I’ll catch her swaying to the music or cheering on a small child who is bowling in the lane beside us with his family. She’s incredible to watch. Her energy lights up the room, and it’s like everyone is enamored by her. She even gets cheers from the nearby lanes when she gets a strike.
“Do you want another drink? You’ll need it for the disappointment coming your way.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes to the drink, and I’ll be ignoring the rest of that comment.”
I type in the order on the screen and send it over to the bar.
“While you wait on that, watch and learn, Wanda.” I rise from my seat next to her and grab the bowling ball from the returner.
“What can I learn from mediocre technique?”
“Ouch. You’re feisty after a couple beers.” I step up onto the oiled, wooden floors and toward our lane.
“So I’ve been told.”
I line up my shot, making sure my stance is just the way I want, and I take two steps, pull my arm back then sling it forward, sending the ball careening down the slick lane toward the pins.
Stay center. Stay center. No. No. No. Not left.
“Ha!” She raises both hands in the air in excitement.
“Shit.”
I only knocked down half of the pins in what is certainly my most pathetic display of athletic ability… ever.
“I’m sorry, whose ass is whose?” she asks, as she rises from her seat and does a little dance.
I scrub my hand over my jaw, making my way back to get my ball when it rolls back up into the return rack.
“You’re even more beautiful when you’re happy like this.”
“Do I not always look happy?” She stops dancing and steps a little closer to me.
“That’s not what I mean. You’ve always had this tense, less than sure, vibe about you, at least around me. I’m glad you’re able to be like this though.”
“You’re just trying to deflect from the fact I just beat you.” She crosses her arms across her chest, like she’s trying to protect herself from something, but her smile doesn’t match her posture.
“And you’re trying to deflect from the fact I just gave you a compliment and you don’t want to accept it.”
She drops her gaze for a fleeting moment then brings it back up to me.
“You make me nervous, that’s all.”
I, very slowly so she knows my intent, reach out and slide my hand around her body and lay it flat at the small of her back.
“Don’t be nervous with me.” I give her a gentle pull toward me, and I can feel the warmth of her body. She’s flushed all over from the alcohol, and she’s radiating heat.
“I can’t help it. You’re just very,” she pauses and places her hand on my chest, “intense.”
Intense isn’t a word I would ever use to describe myself, but knowing this beautiful woman, with her curvy, petite body, stunningly impressive personality, and goddess-like face thinks I’m intense makes me want to pound my chest in alpha male pride.
The lighting in the entire alley shifts to a darker, deep red, almost like a darkroom for photography, and the slow beat of a new song seeps from the speakers.
“This is Harry Styles,” she says plainly, with no explanation.
“What?”
“Singing this song. It’s Harry Styles.” She licks her lips. “Sorry, when I get nervous, I talk a lot.”
“I can see that,” I say, as the corners of my mouth turn up in a smile. “I think it’s cute.”
“You do?”
“There is nothing about you I don’t like, Sawyer.”
Harry Styles croons on around us about an infamous “she” and it’s setting the scene before us like it was plopped right out of a movie.
I’m not sure when it happened, but we seem to have slipped into a slow, barely moving dance to the gentle beat of the song.
I sneak a peek at her full lips that have been making me laugh, heckling me, teasing me, and having brilliant conversations with me all night, and all I can think about in this moment is how desperately I want to kiss them.
A guitar solo has taken over as I lean forward, making my intention clear, giving her every chance to pull back, but she doesn’t stop me.
Instead, she pushes up on her tiptoes to meet me in the middle.
Time slows, and when I am so close I can hear her intake of breath before our lips meet, the music disappears and a voice sounds over the intercom system.
“Wanda Wannadoher, your drink is ready at the bar. Wanda Wannadoher.”
She drops back down off her toes and drops her head to my chest, laughing.
“Oh my God.” She covers her face with both hands. “That’s so embarrassing.” She must feel my chest moving because she immediately looks up at me and narrows her gaze. “Are you laughing at me?”
“Yes. I’m absolutely laughing at you. It’s funny.” I place my hands on her hips, giving them a slight squeeze then I take a step back, my body still high on the near kiss. “I’ll go get your drink, Wanda. Then we have some bowling to finish.”
***
“I deserve a trophy, Willie,” Sawyer says when we step out into the crisp, night air after our final game. The moon is shining overhead and the lights from the parking lot lead the way.
“You’re enjoying bruising my ego, aren’t you?” I place my hand on my chest. “I’m hurt.”
“Very much so, yes. I never win anything, ever, so this is just exciting for me.”
We walk slowly, side by side, down the sidewalk toward the spot in the back of the parking lot where my truck is.
“For someone who hasn’t bowled in years, you definitely picked it up fast.”
“Maybe it’s like riding a bike?”
“Maybe or maybe I’ve been hustled?”
