Terms and Agreements (on hold indefinitely)

The Part Where Elvis Helps Make Things More Awkward

                                                             33

My anxiety was slowly ebbing away as I realized that the jukebox was competing with me for Flynn's affections, and winning. He spent a lot of his time over there, picking songs, calling out titles and artists for me to choose. And it was a real, old jukebox, too. With the little records in it. Not one of those newfangled digital imposters. They had my blessing; I was content with spending my time trying to keep my bowling ball out of the gutter.

"So they've got Elvis, obviously. No self-respecting jukebox wouldn't," Flynn was saying to me, "...Suspicious Minds, Hound Dog — ooh, Jailhouse Rock."

"I can dig Elvis," I replied, collecting my ball from the return and flinging it weakly onto the lane. I groaned as it dropped into the gutter just before it reached the pins. "Your turn."

He turned around and grinned. "Couldn't pick up that spare, either?"

"Nope." We brushed past each other as he headed to the lane and I went to visit the jukebox, discovering that he hadn't picked a song. I decided to surprise him, and go for Jailhouse Rock — a nice, upbeat, not-romantic-at-all song. One to sing along to.

But then, because apparently the universe was again bored and looking for a laugh, my finger slipped and I accidentally pressed the number for Love Me Tender.

 Great. Just perfect.

"Damn," I muttered to myself as the gentle sounds of the utterly, disgustingly romantic song spilled from the speakers.

I turned around, and saw the pins being reset, and Flynn kind of looking at me funny. Funny like, confused. And pink. Why was he always freakin' pink?

"I meant to get Jailhouse Rock," I mumbled, shrugging and trying to defuse the cloud of tension that had formed in two seconds flat. "My finger slipped."

He nodded, an odd smile sort of twitching on and off his face before he got his bowling ball from the return and went back to bowling.

I silently freaked out while his back was turned, shaking my fists at the sky and mouthing insults, as if there was anyone to see me besides the shoe guy, who now didn't look so bored, because there was a crazy girl shaking her fists at the ceiling and a pink dude with her.

Way to keep things platonic, Alison! Now he's thinking you were being romantic and got embarrassed and tried to cover it up! Ugh.

"Your turn," Flynn's voice brought me back from my fit of rage at the air, and I let my arms drop down to my sides, hoping he hadn't seen me waving them around. The god-forsaken song was making him look at me...longingly.

Ew.

"Okay!" I chirped with way too much enthusiasm. I skulked past him, grabbing my ball from the return, hardly looking at the lane before throwing it down and stomping back toward the jukebox to see if I could make the song stop.

"Oh my god! You got a strike!" Flynn pointed toward the lanes, and I whirled around to see all the pins gone and the score-screen lighting up, celebrating my one victory.

"Wow." I couldn't believe it. I figured I'd never get a strike, let alone when I wasn't even paying attention. But maybe not paying attention was the key. Also, it was a welcome distraction from the song.

"Finally!" Flynn exclaimed, laughing and holding up his hand. I high-fived him, and then he went to take his turn, and I watched, grateful for the dissipation of the tension cloud. At least the universe didn't torture me too long. Plus, I was probably imagining the longing in his eyes because of all of Jenna's brainwashing me to think he was in love with me. 

Thanks, Jenna.

The song ended and I put on Jailhouse Rock immediately, being extra careful of where I put my fingers. We didn't want an incident with Can't Help Falling in Love. 

Jesus.

Soon the game was over, my arm was tired, my fingers were sore, and we were both hungry. So off on a quest for pizza we went, hoping that the food was decent.

"If it's terrible, we'll just go eat somewhere else," Flynn said after we sat down with our pizza.

"Okay," I agreed, and we both cautiously lifted the slices to our mouths. I waited for him to take a bite first. 

What was taking him so long? 

Then I realized he was waiting for me to take the first bite.

"You first," I said.

"No, you first," He retorted.

"On three?" I suggested.

He nodded.

"One...two...three—"

He still hadn't taken a bite. Neither had I.

"Apparently, we both had the same idea," he said, grinning. "And fine, I'll be the guinea pig." 

He took a bite. Chewed for a moment. Then he made a grossed out face and I let my pizza fall back to my plate. Of course, he started laughing two seconds later and taunted, "gotcha!"

I rolled my eyes. "Trickster," I said accusingly, but I couldn't keep back a smile. I decided to hide it by eating.

He shook his head, still laughing at me, and I just wanted to cram his pizza in his mouth to make him stop. It was sort of funny, but not that funny.

"So," I began, determined to move on from his silly joke, "after we eat, what are we gonna do?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. But the night is young. What do you think we should do?"

I had no idea what we should do. Honestly, I was kind of ready to go home, but then at the same time, I wasn't. It was weird.

"I don't know."

He was silent then for a little while, and I didn't have anything to say, so we just ate quietly, and it wasn't awkward, suffocating silence. It was comfortable, warm. Like when Jenna, Wes, and I just don't say anything. He looked thoughtful.

When we were done eating, he looked at me, a serious expression in his dark eyes, and said, "Can I take you somewhere kinda random?"

I tensed up, opening my mouth to protest, but before I could get a word out, he held up a hand to halt me, saying, "Don't worry, you can drive, and I'll even donate the pepper spray in case you feel threatened by me sitting in the passenger seat and not doing anything."

I considered this. Sure, pepper spray wasn't really in the picture — or was it, did I have some in my purse? — but he knew I'd cut off a certain most precious appendage if he tried anything.

So I said, "Fine."