Bowling Dreams & Cheap Wine

Chapter 17

That kiss on the ice was the most romantic thing that has ever happened to me. It's all downhill now because the glaring reality is simple. I am falling for two men. TWO. This has never happened to me. This was all supposed to be simple. One of them should have been an asshole. Assholes are easy. Nate and Raj are both nice and nice guys are like antiques. You don't want one until it's in your presence.

I can't get that kiss with Raj out of my mind. His mouth on mine. His arms around me. The sweet, sweet after-feeling like I never needed an anti-aging cream again because I felt young. I felt it. Bravo, heart. He sends me a GIF of pair skaters doing a death spiral. The skate move is heartbreakingly beautiful despite the morbid name. But it's the text that follows that has my heart in knots.

Raj: Tell me I'm not the only one in this.

Raj: Tell me that kiss is exactly what I thought it was.

I pause, running my finger over his text. It was the best kiss of my life. Me: You're not the only in this.

Raj: I want to take you out on a date. A night without clubbing or Midnight Ballers but at a restaurant with no cops ready to arrest us.

Raj: If you play your cards right. You can kiss me again.

The monster-sized knots in my stomach only get bigger. Me: Triple Hearts.

My gaze shifts out the car backseat window of Lisa's car. Lisa and Steph are talking about a portable bonfire appliance. We are on a field trip 45 minutes East to a bigger bowling venue. Lauren and the Spares invited us to watch a women's bowling league who have snagged more than one state championship. They've even been on television.

And the venue is totally different from Downtown Bowl. It's nice and posh. No nasty carpet from the 80's on the floor. No cheap tables. Expensive liquor lines the bar. The menu has pizza with goat cheese and artichokes. This is high society bowling. Lauren waves us over towards the shiny lanes that look freshly waxed.  

We meet her and the Spares at the middle with a no-nonsense group of women with button-down league shirts. Shoulders big as dump trucks. Hair dry and frizzy. They're the anti-Mams. They stop their game and turn to us. Their scowls are permanent. They look at us like we're tiny fragile things. Steph to grab my arm. "I thought we were going to watch the game."

"Watch?" Reagan says, shaking her head. "No, Steph. You're going to practice with the Power Strokes. They got first place in state last year." Reagan gives my lower back a push. "They're going to work with you."

Lisa yelps. "They're going to kill us."

"You don't have time to be afraid," Lauren snaps. "It's almost time for the semi-finals. You guys aren't where you need to be yet."

Knowing what I know now about Lauren's sister changes everything. No longer am I only motivated by causing the MUFFs to lose. I want this win for Lauren and what her family is going through.

"I'll sneak wine in on Sunday night," I whisper to Steph.

She nods with worry in her gaze.

And do we need wine? Absolutely. After our three-hour desecration by the Power Strokes. The three of us leave with sore wrists, sore right thighs from all the crouching and sliding, and Steph keeps her hand on her lower back. "I miss Downtown Bowl," she complains on the way out.

No one has heard from Tamara or Dianna and the three of us make the hour drive home tired and not in the mood for anything to do with bowling. I lean my head back and close my eyes, the hum of the car nearly puts me to sleep.