My High School Life [Rewritten - Ongoing]

21. [Isabella]

I looked at him.

He seemed okay—his eyes back to their normal color—but the way his hands gripped the steering wheel told a different story. I wasn't sure if he was frustrated with himself because he lost his cool back there, or if it's because he had to tell me—someone he barely knew, his issues. Whatever the reason may be, I was glad he did. It just goes to show that he's capable of emotions after all.

"So, have you been to the bowling alley in town yet?" I saw his lips moved, his eyes still locked on the road.

I jumped a little from the sudden question, but I was able to compose myself quickly. Hopefully he didn't see me staring at him. "No, I just moved here, remember?"

"Oh yeah." He lifted one hand off the wheel and scratched the back of his neck. "Um . . . have you been bowling at all then?"

I nodded even though he wasn't looking at me. "Lots. But my brother usually beats me at it." Him, and his damn strikes.

"Your brother?" he asked as he glanced at me for a split second, then his eyes drifted back to the road. He took a left and then a right at the exit.

"Yeah. He's twenty."

"I hope he's not one of those overprotective types," he joked, chuckling.

I laughed under my breath. He couldn't be anymore right. "What about you?" I asked. "Got any siblings?"

His face instantly lit up, as he nodded. "I have a sister. Her name's Megan."

"Really? How old is she?"

"Almost nine."

Almost nine . . . wait a minute. If he's here with me, and his parents are gone, who's taking care of her now? I sighed. "Please don't tell me you left her alone just to hang out with me?"

"She's currently at my neighbor's house. I made sure she got a ride back home," he explained, as he took another right. I closed my eyes and let out a breath. Thank God. "Don't worry, I'm not that terrible." He chuckled.

I glanced down at my lap, chewing on my lip. "Sorry, I didn't mean to jump to conclusions like that."

"You don't have to apologize. I'm glad you did."

I looked up just in time to see him pulling into the Plaza. "You do?"

"Yeah," he said with a grin. "It shows that you actually care about my sister's well being. So, in a way, I should really be thanking you."

"Um . . . you're welcome?"

His mouth twitched and he wore what he thought was a winning smile. "Stay here." The engine soon cut off as he pulled the keys from the ignition. Before I could even question what he meant by that, he was already out the door, and jogging over to my side.

He opened the car door, and offered his hand. "Izzy."

I shook my head and fought back a smile. I said a quick, "thanks" and took the offered hand.

When we made it inside Woodway Lanes, a room full of kids and teenagers greeted us. The kids looked to be around ten as they ran around the arcade area, screaming and laughing. From the looks of it, they were celebrating someone's birthday by the amount of presents and balloons they had set up. While, the group of teenagers sat on the opposite side of the room—closest to the front entrance—with a table full of food and drinks.

"Why don't you go to lane two," he suggested the only lane still available, "and I'll grab our shoes for us."

"Shouldn't you ask me what my shoe size is first?"