A/N: Just so there's no confusion, this story is written from two alternating perspectives in first person, so the name at the beginning of each chapter is the POV character. I originally wrote the whole thing in third person, but it felt too distant if that makes sense. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.
- Emmett -
The smell of popcorn and cheap beer hit me as soon as I stepped into the bowling alley. Ahead of me, a dozen people waited in the line for shoes. I took out my phone to send a text to my best friend to let her know I'd arrived. Thanks to a fender bender that kept traffic backed up for nearly twenty minutes, not to mention the fact I had to convince my mother to let me drive her car, I was already running late. I didn't want my date to think me rude or inconsiderate. This wasn't the best first impression.
"Can you go already?" The guy behind me sounded annoyed.
I glanced up from my phone to see the line had moved forward a few feet. I closed the gap and glanced back at the guy. He was very attractive. Even as he pursed his lips to the side sourly, I couldn't help but admire him with his freckled cheeks and strong jaw. Lines of irritation formed between his dark brows. He had his thick brown hair pushed to the side in a haphazardly sexy way.
"Sorry about that," I said.
"Whatever," the guy murmured, crossing his arms over his chest, doubling the size of his already impressive biceps. He had a nice muscular frame. But not in like a bulky, football player kind of way, more like the leaner track team guys, or even a swimmer (I loved me a swimmer).
He looked off to the side, clearly uninterested in continuing the interaction.
After receiving my shoes, I headed over to find the lane number Carrie gave me. She sat in the orange plastic seats that glowed under the blacklight, watching her boyfriend take his turn. Jackson tossed his neon green ball at an odd angle, sending it straight into the gutter. Carrie threw her head back laughing as Jackson let out a string of curses.
"That's what you get for being too cocky, boy," Carrie told him as he returned to her. She tucked her thick curls behind her ear as she stood up to kiss him. Her bronze skin looked so much darker in this lighting, with her hot pink top glowing in contrast.
Jackson looked up at me, through the mass of Carrie's hair. "Hey, man."
I envied Jackson's ability to grow a full face of stubble. Technically, I could grow facial hair. However, none of it connected. It ended up looking like I couldn't decide between growing a mustache, muttonchops, and a chin beard, so I'd chosen all three. It was a mess of volcanic proportions. Which was why I rarely went more than a couple of days without shaving.
I returned the greeting and looked around, confused. Carrie and Jackson were alone.
"Where's my date?" I asked.
Carrie and Jackson shared a sympathetic glance. That didn't bode well. Just as Carrie opened her mouth to speak, someone brushed past me. The surly stranger from the shoe line sat down and carelessly kicked off his Nikes. His white shirt turned almost lilac under the blacklight.
"Clay!" Jackson was very excited to see him. They shared a complicated straight boy handshake. The effort seemed halfhearted on Clay's end. "Dude, I thought you weren't going to make it."
"When I make a commitment, I keep it." Clay put his foot in his chair, yanking at the laces on his bowling shoes.
I knew this was not my date. That guy's name was Tanner. That scraggly twink paled in comparison to the gorgeous clean-cut brunette boy talking to Jackson.
Carrie took my arm and pulled me aside. "I'm so sorry, hun. Tanner canceled. He isn't coming."
"What happened?"
"He texted me this like fifteen minutes ago." She took her phone out and showed me the screen.
TANNER: Me and Brian just made up. Longest two weeks of my life. Sorry to flake on you. But you totally get it.
I gritted my teeth and glared at Carrie. "You got me a date with a guy on the rebound?"
Carrie stuck her phone into her back pocket and huffed. "You said after what happened with Alfie, you just wanted someone to have fun with. 'Nothing serious or long term, Care.' Those were your exact words."
I wanted to be upset, but I did actually say that. I didn't want to risk falling for another jerk who would just end up breaking my heart.
Besides, it wasn't Carrie's fault Tanner got back with his boyfriend. It was no tremendous loss. He and I only shared a few casually flirty texts over the last week since Carrie wrangled me into this date. I mean, did I think he was a total dick for texting her and not me to cancel on ME? Maybe. Would I get it over it? Sure. Would I let this setback totally ruin my night? Probably.
When we returned to the boys, Jackson reached his hand out. Carrie took it and did a little spin into his arms. Jackson kissed her cheek before turning his attention to me. "Emmett, this is my buddy Clay. Clay, this is Carrie's friend Emmett."
Carrie held up a finger. "Best friend actually."
"Hi," I said.
"Yeah, hey," Clay mumbled, looking me over with harsh eyes.
"You guys mind being on a team?" Jackson asked.
I shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me."
"Whatever," Clay said. "Who cares?"
"Yippee," I mumbled under my breath. I glanced at Carrie, locking eyes long enough to mentally convey that I wasn't thrilled with this, but I'd go along with it because I loved her. And she owed me massively for this.
"Emmett's really good," Carrie told Clay, talking me up as her best friend duties required.
"Fantastic." Clay shook his fist in the air, feigning enthusiasm.
He was seriously hot, but he seemed like kind of a dick. So exactly my type, I guess.
I sat in the free seat next to Clay while Carrie took her turn with a pink ball that matched her top. She went for the granny-throw between the legs method and knocked out nine pins.
The next half hour was excruciating. Clay grumbled and complained about everything: the fries were too salty, the popcorn didn't have enough butter, the soda was flat. It didn't help that I was already annoyed about being stood up.
When I missed picking up a spare by two pins, Clay jumped from his seat and gripped the sides of his head. "Are you fucking kidding me? That was a piece of cake. I thought you were supposed to be good."
I curled my hands into fists at my side, digging the nails into my skin. I really wanted to punch Clay. And not for the first time.
"Clay, relax," Jackson said. "It's just a stupid game."
Clay's jaw muscles tightened as he clenched his teeth, snorting through flared nostrils. He spun around and stalked off.
I chased after him. I'd taken enough abuse from this person I didn't know. It was time to speak my mind.
I caught up to Clay in the brightly lit lobby, outside the entrance to the small arcade. Grabbing his elbow, I spun him around to face me.
Clay's mouth fell open as he looked me over. He seemed shocked to see me.
"Did I do something to offend you?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "Because this can't be about the thing in line. You can't be that much of an asshole."
Clay's hard shell broke; his face softened. "I'm sorry I'm being such a dick. It's not about you."
"It kinda feels like it is—" I jabbed a finger toward my face "—since I'm the one you keep yelling at."
Clay sat on the bench against the wall. A clamoring, clanging noise erupted from the arcade as someone shouted in celebration.
Clay pressed his elbows to his knees, pushing his hands through his hair, exhaling. "I had a fight with my girlfriend before I got here."
"That sucks." I sat down beside him. "Did you maybe want to, like, talk about it?"
Clay barked out an incredulous laugh. "With you?"
I shrugged. "Why not?"
"I've been a massive tool to you since we met. Why are you being so nice to me?"
"I'm not a grudge holder." I paused to consider that statement, then shook my head. "Actually, that's a huge lie. I'm a bitch with a long memory. I still haven't forgiven our lunch lady for the time she skimped on my tater tots."
My joke had the desired effect, making Clay laugh. Some of the tension in his shoulders eased. He was a lot cuter when his face wasn't pinched up.
"Seriously, I've been told I'm a good listener." I leaned against the back of the bench, clasping my hands together in my lap, watching Clay with raised brows, waiting.
Clay picked at a thread from one of the factory-made holes in his jeans and blew out a heavy breath. "She says I'm emotionally distant."
"Are you?"
Clay stayed silent as he stared down at the ugly geometric patterned carpet.
"Your silence is kinda implying the answer is yes."
"I'm not great at opening up to people. Especially when one of those people happens to be my girlfriend. I don't know why. It's just always been difficult for me."
"You're doing fine right now."
Clay's head snapped to the side. He stared at me, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. "Huh. I guess you're just easy to talk to."
"I get that a lot," I said. "I think it's because I'm kind of adorable."
Clay laughed again. It was a great sound, bubbly and sweet. I saw a glimpse of the not-so-angry guy underneath, and I very much liked him. "Yeah. That's totally it."
I patted Clay's knee. "No, seriously. What do you think is the issue?"
"She says I don't talk to her about anything important. Like our relationship, and how I feel about her. She says I shut down and become a robot whenever she tries."
"Do you?"
"Maybe."
"Why?"
He shrugged. "Um, I don't know. We've been dating for a while, like three months, but I guess... I guess I just don't feel as—I don't know—connected to her as maybe I should. But I don't know how to tell her that."
"Three months and you don't feel a connection?" I pulled my lips back, baring my teeth in a grimace. "Eh. That's not great."
"Maybe connection is the wrong word. I definitely care about her. I love hanging out with her. She's such a cool person. There's just something missing."
"Like a spark?" I guessed.
"Exactly!" Clay's face lit up, full of relief. "You get it!"
"There's not a whole lot you can do about that. You either feel it or you don't. Some people just don't click—romantically speaking."
"I feel like an asshole because I feel like I should break up with her, let her go. But I can't." He was sort of spiraling, rambling, his words coming in such a rush they all sort of melded together as he stared down at his hands, picking at his thumbnail. "All my friends would think I'm crazy. She's like the hottest girl in school, and everybody loves her. And I get the honor of having to sleep with her. But sex is pretty much all they ever want to talk about."
I grabbed his shoulder to break him out of his prattling stupor. He looked up at me with these gorgeous brown eyes that just seemed to cut right through me. And he looked kind of sad.
I took a breath, hoping this would remind him that he needed to breathe. He seemed to get the hint because his nostrils flared as he took some measured breaths.
"Prolonging a relationship when you don't have feelings for someone is what makes you an asshole," I said. "Regardless of how hot she is. Like, sure, it'll hurt her, but the longer you wait, the worse it'll be. You hanging onto her, for whatever reason, prevents her from moving on and finding someone she can actually be happy with. You claim you care about her. Maybe you should ask yourself what's the best thing you could do for her."
He looked at me like I'd just delivered the most profound piece of wisdom in the history of western civilization. "You're pretty smart."
Because apparently I could not remain solemn for more than five minutes without mockery, I placed my hand under my chin, giving my best cherubic face. "Pretty and smart are both words often used to describe me."
"Is conceited another one?" Clay asked, cracking a smile.
"I prefer confident."
"Dude, you passed confident like three self-compliments ago."
I burst out laughing at that. I felt oddly at ease with him. Which was exceedingly rare for me.
"Are you good now?" I asked.
"Good might be too strong. Better is more like it." Clay patted my knee and the hair on my leg felt like it was standing at attention, my skin prickling with goosebumps. "Thanks."
I ignored my body screaming at me that this was an attractive male person with a very sweet face and adorable freckles and a physique for which Michaelango might spurn his David. I had to reel my unrealistic crush back in, so I did what I do best. I insulted him. "So, if we go finish this game, are you going to stop being such a little bitch?"
Clay threw his head back, laughing, his hands clutching his flat stomach. "I think I can manage that."
"Awesome. Because I want to annihilate Carrie and Jackson."
"That's brutal." His mood seemed to have lifted. And I kind of loved that I could do that for him. At least I could be of use to somebody. Tanner didn't want me. And Alfie certainly didn't.
"I can't stand to lose," I said.
"We have that in common." Clay laid a hand on my shoulder. "Let's kick their asses."
"Sweet Jesus!" I waved my hand at my face, like one of those ladies at my grandmother's church who jumped up during the sermon to jog around the pews in her dated floral dress and kitten heels, shouting gibberish that used to make me giggle until my grandmother gave me her sternest glare to silence me. "Now I know it's been too long since I had a boyfriend, because sadly that is the sexiest thing a man's said to me in months."
Clay raised his brows, emotion draining from his face. "You're into guys?"
"Very much so." I dropped my smile, remembering not everyone in this town was accepting as my usual circle. "Is that a problem for you?"
Clay was quick to shake his head. "Of course not." An indecipherable look crossed his face. "I've never met anyone who's, like, ya know." He gestured to me.
I knew what he meant, but I decided to play it off as a joke. "Handsome? Brilliant? Greek? Stop me when I get there."
"Um, no." He let out an uncomfortable laugh.
I laughed too, at his distraught face. "Your naivete is adorable. And, no that's not me hitting on you." Even though I totally wanted to.
"I-I didn't think you were."
"Just so you know, gay is not a dirty word. Despite what some of the cousin-loving, redneck, backwoods Bama Jethros in this town think."
"I really didn't mean to imply anything," Clay blurted in a panic.
I placed a hand on Clay's shoulder. I took it as a good sign that he didn't flinch away from my touch. Because that did happen once. "Don't worry about it."
"I don't care about that kind of thing," Clay insisted. "I don't think it should be a big deal."
"Agreed." I nodded.
I wanted to change the subject. I didn't enjoy being all doom-and-gloom. Carrie might disagree with that statement. She called me a brooder. Maybe she was right. I'd done an awful lot of brooding since the miserable failure of my last (first) relationship. But that'll happen when your boyfriend ghosts you and then gets caught making out with a girl two weeks later.
I turned to Clay. "But you know what is a big deal?"
Clay shook his head, still wearing a serious expression.
I gripped my hand into a fist between us. "The two of us utterly destroying our friends' confidence and crushing their spirits. And maybe making them cry a little."
"That's kinda twisted." Clay's lips spread into a wide grin. He tapped his fist against mine. "Let's do it!"