Sunday evening I left the comfortable warmness of my house for the disagreeable chill of my car. Even though it was still only the second week of September, the temperature at night was steadily dropping. To make things worse, a few threatening rumbles of thunders rolled overhead, promising rain in the near future. As I stuck my key in the ignition, the first few drops hit my windshield.
I flipped my wipers on, shifting my car into reverse and backing out of my driveway. The rain was lashing down now, falling faster and faster. My windshield wipers were going as fast as they could, whipping from one side to the other. Luckily for me, Chace's house was only down the street. Still, my palms were sweaty as I carefully drove down the road. The lingering threat of having one of my attacks while I was driving terrified me. But I couldn't not drive. I had places to go, places to be, friends to hang out with...
Chace's house was almost impossible to see through the downpour. The only things I could make out on it were the lights coming from the second story window on the far left. Not wanting to leave the shelter of my car, I settled for blaring my horn. A minute later I saw his athletic form jogging toward my car, an umbrella in his hand. I wrinkled my nose. I wished I thought of bringing an umbrella.
"Hey, Rosie, nice weather we're having, isn't it?" Chace greeted as he slid into passenger seat. To reinforce his words, a brilliant streak of lightning lit up the sky.
"Oh, definitely," I agreed sarcastically. "We should have had a picnic."
Chuckling, he snapped his seatbelt and dropped the wet umbrella on the car mat on the floor. "At least we're going to be inside."
"Yep."
"You don't sound that excited. Is there something wrong?"
"Huh? No," I said honestly, doing a three-point turn on the narrow street. "I just don't really enjoy the rain."
He smiled at me understandingly. "Oh. Me either."
I smiled back. "I'm excited to go bowling with you though."
"That makes two of us then."
I laughed, returning my attention to the road. It was only a ten-minute drive to the bowling alley and for the whole duration Chace told me about how his college life was going. Apparently soccer practice there was rough. I wasn't surprised. College sports were a lot different than high school sports. He showed me a disgusting black and blue bruise on his forearm from where someone had accidentally kicked him, and then another cut on his shin. By the time I parked the car in the closest space near the building, I thought I was going to be sick.
"I also have a bruise on my upper thigh, but I'd have to take my pants off to show you that one-"
"That's okay," I told him, forcing a smile. While the prospect of him taking off his pants left me wondering, I really couldn't stomach seeing another gruesome injury. Not only did blood and I not mix, bruises and the like didn't either.
He smirked at me. "You can't handle it?" he guessed correctly.
"Let's just go bowling," I urged, unlocking the doors. "And maybe buy a slice of pizza. I forgot to eat before I left."
"Too excited to see me?"
"No, I just figured if I ate and then saw your face I'd throw it back up," I teased.
He rolled his eyes. "I could see that happen if only and only if my face was one huge bruise."
Grinning, I pushed open my door. "I wouldn't talk to you if that happened."
"Good to know."
Forgetting the umbrella in the back, Chace and I hastened to the main entrance of the bowling alley. Since it was seven o'clock on a Sunday night, there were no children running around. The music blasting from overhead came straight from the pop stations, a nice change to the daytime Disney Channel tunes. The main lights were off, replaced by strobe lights and disco balls and camera lights. The lanes were outlined with a glow-in-the-dark glow. For a moment, I forgot about eating pizza. I just wanted to send a seven-pound bowling ball flying down one of the lanes.
But first we had to get our ugly bowling shoes.
"Excuse me," I started, placing my hands on the counter top, leaning forward to get the single male worker's attention. He was some nerdy looking kid with thick-rimmed glasses and a rash of acne on his lower chin. The tag on his company shirt read Joe. For a split-second his gaze lingered on my face before dropping down to my chest. "How may I help you?"
Annoyed, I pulled up top of my black and white striped sweater. "Seven, please."
His eyes never left my chest. "And for your boyfriend?" he asked, his voice nasally and boring.
"He's not-"
"Size nine," Chace told him, cutting me off. He wrapped a strong arm around my shoulder, bringing me closer to him. "And her eyes are on her face."
Embarrassed, Joe scurried away to find our shoes. I glanced up at Chace, grinning. "You just mortified him."
Chace shrugged nonchalantly, running his free hand through his shaggy umber hair. "People should have some respect..."
"You know, you're starting to seem a little fake again."
Just like the other time I'd made that comment, his expression became insulted. "How so?" he demanded.
"I don't know. You're just too..."
"Too nice? Is that a bad thing?"
"No, it's just hard to come by."
He crossed his arms over his chest. "Have you ever thought that maybe the reason I'm like this is because I realize it's hard to come by? I want to set an example for other guys. And girls."
"It seems fake."
"Rose!"
I laughed, patting him on the chest. "I'm joking, Chace. You're right. It's good for you to have such a great personality. It makes me wonder in what kind of family your family is."
"My family is..." He trailed off, his eyes suddenly gaining an unfamiliar distant look to them. Then he blinked and they were bright again. "They're as normal as divorced parents can be."
Judging by that look, I doubted that. "Do they get along?"
"They did..."
His tone revealed to me he didn't want to talk about the matter anymore. So I was taking that as a no, they didn't get along. Sheepishly, I turned my attention to Joe who was bringing our patched shoes back to us. "Here you go," he muttered, keeping his eyes glued to the counter. "That'll be ten dollars. You have lane twenty."
"Sure," I responded, unsnapping my wallet.
"Date," Chace interjected, slapping my hand away. "I pay."
I gaped at him, surprised that he'd hit me. "You could have just said something! No need to be violent!"
He rolled his eyes, carelessly flinging a ten-dollar bill at Joe. Apparently he wasn't over the perverted goggling. "I think of this as Whack-A-Mole."
"Whack-A-Mole?"
"Maybe if I beat it into you, you'll remember not to do it again. Just like you smack those moles to stay underground."
"Chace!"
Laughing, he handed me my pair of shoes before pushing on my lower back, leading me toward our bowling lane. "You're so serious, Rosie. I'm kidding. Besides, I barely tapped you. Weakling."
I scowled at him. "Then I'm going to punch you every time you... you..."
"I-I what?"
"Shut up," I muttered, shoving him away from me. "You're annoying."
Grinning, he held up his free hand. "Okay, I'll keep my distance."
True to his words, as we continued to march to our lane, he stayed a good five meters behind me. Most of the lanes we passed were empty, which was unsurprising since it was Sunday night. There was one rowdy group of young men at lane fifteen, laughing and shouting and pushing each other, but luckily our lane was five away. I smiled as I passed them, trying to seem friendly. One of them winked back and I resisted the urge to glance back and see if Chace had caught it. To see what kind of expression he might've been holding.
"I call bowling first," he called to me as we stopped at our lane.
I twisted on my heel to face him, noticing he was still keeping a ten-foot gap between us. "How are you going to bowl from back there?"
"I'll do my best," he replied, locating a bowling rack near the lane next to us and choosing a green nine-pound ball. "Program us in."
Curious to see how he would manage to send the ball down the lane from where he was standing, I obeyed his command, typing our names into the computer and setting up the scoreboard. "Okay, you're ready to go," I informed him, folding my arms over my chest.
"Okay. Watch this."
"Watching."
Taking a deep breath, he brought his arm back and swung it forward with all his might, letting it go when his arm reached half its height. Startled by the heavy ball flying through the air, I stumbled back into one of the seats surrounding the scoreboard. The bowling ball sailed over our lane, smashing right into the carpet-covered wall. I could have sworn I heard a crack. My eyes widened and I whipped my head back to Chace, who looked just as surprised as I felt.
"Whoops," he laughed awkwardly. "Too much force."
"Chace! You could've broken the wall!"
"Key word is could've, Rosie," he responded with a wink. "But maybe I should bowl regularly..."
I smiled wryly. "You think so?"
"Let's make this more interesting," he suggested, jogging over to his bowling ball and picking it up. "Winner has to buy loser ice cream next time we get together."
"Don't you mean loser has to buy winner?"
He shook his head. "Losers should be pitied upon, not taken advantage of."
I raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's a different way of thinking about that."
"Right. So, deal?"
"If I win are you going to let me buy you ice cream?"
He pretended to think about it for a moment, tapping his chin with his slim pointer finger. "Perhaps."
Rolling my eyes, I gestured for him to go. As he brought back his arm to roll the ball, I began trying to faze him. "Bowl away, my friend. Though I'll have you know I'm pretty good. I always beat my friends. Sometimes I can get three strikes per game-"
"Strike!" he announced excitedly, throwing his hands up in the air as all ten pins had their bottoms knocked out from under them.
I struggled to keep myself composed. "Lucky shot."
"You're up," he told me in a singsong voice.
Focusing myself, I lined up my eyesight with the front pin, feigning a few swings to prepare myself. If Chace managed to get a strike on the first try, then so would I. On my next swing, I released the ball, sending it speeding down the lane. Putting on my most smug expression, I turned to Chace. "Strike."
"I think you mean gutter ball."
"No way!" I gasped, pivoting around to see my ball swerving into the gutter. "What? But-"
"Hey, at least you get two tries!"
I mimicked him under my breath earning a grin while I waited for my ball to be brought back up by the mechanic belt. This time when I bowled it, I knocked down six pins.
"Close, but not a strike," Chace announced.
"Thank you, Capitan Obvious."
He smiled pleasantly. "You're welcome, Lieutenant Sarcasm. Now excuse me while I bowl a perfect set."
I snorted. "Good luck with that."
To my extreme displeasure, he managed to bowl another strike. "Two down, as many as you want us to go to go."
"I won't let you win," I said determinedly. "I'm going to buy you that ice cream."
"That's what they all say."
His words triggered a series of questions in my mind. If any, which I highly doubt he didn't, how many girl had he gone out with in his life? Did he take them on bowling dates? Were they serious girlfriends? Trying to be as casual as possible, when I went to bowl my second turn I brought up the subject. "All say? How many girls have you taken to a bowling alley?"
"Actually, none."
"Really?"
"Yeah. None of them have been interested. I was surprised you were."
None of them... That meant there was a few. I chewed on my lip, wondering how to go about my questioning. "Bowling is fun. Where did you take the other girls?"
"Honestly, I didn't have many. I..." He trailed off. "Are you going to bowl?"
Blinking, I nodded, sending my ball flying down the lane without thinking. It only hit two pins and I cursed myself. It was hard trying to question him about his ex-girlfriends nonchalantly while attempting to concentrate on bowling at the same time. "Crap," I muttered.
"Your skills cease to amaze me," he said teasingly.
"W-whatever. So where did you take girls on dates?" I tried again, leaning down to pick my ball up from the belt. "McDonald's?"
He let out a bark of laughter. "Actually, one time. It was after my soccer game and I was tired, so don't judge me too hard."
Was asking him how many girls he dated too blunt? Did I even care? Grimacing, I once again mindlessly bowled my ball as I realized I did care. A lot. It only knocked down three more, which caused Chace to make another razzing comment. I ignored him, sighing inwardly. Maybe it was better if I didn't know how many girls he dated. I didn't want to think of whom I had to go up against if I wanted to be his girlfriend.
"What about you?" he started, fingering his the holes in his ball. "Any interesting dates?"
"Oh yeah. Way better than any bowling dates."
He waved me off, standing at the top of the lane. "I'm going to call this one a strike."
"Spare, spare, spare," I chanted quietly.
Strike.
He cheered happily. "Three in a row! Now you have to tell me the worst date you've been on."
"Sure. One time back in my sophomore year, my boyfriend at the time thought a good date was going to the skate park with his friends. First of all, let me tell you I can't skate. Second, his friends were there. And third, so was his ex-girlfriend with her new boyfriend, so he tried to show me off."
Chace grinned like a maniac. "What a gentleman. I give him props."
"What about you?"
"This one time I went to the park with this really annoying girl who told me ducks don't bite, and then I was bit by one."
"Ha ha."
"It's your turn," he informed me with a smirk.
By now, I was giving up the idea of being able to beat Chace. Instead of trying my best, I just kind of feebly sent it down. I wasn't surprised when it only knocked down two pins. My second bowl only knocked down one.
Chace frowned. "You really do suck..."
"I'm just having a bad night," I muttered truthfully. Usually I was pretty good.
"If I get another strike, you have to tell me exactly how many guys you've dated. And what kind of guys they were."
"Then you have to do the same back."
He nodded. "Done."
Needless to say, he added another strike to his row on the scoreboard. I wrinkled my forehead, trying to remember how many guys I'd dated. "One in seventh, four in eight grade, three in my freshman year... two in sophomore... and one in junior."
"Four in eighth grade?"
"Middle school relationships are ridiculous," I told him with a grin. "So are freshmen relationships."
He shook his head in disbelief. "Yeah, I guess."
"Four really isn't a lot though," I pointed out, suddenly feeling embarrassed at my sum of boyfriends. Did eleven guys sound whore-ish? "How many girlfriends did you have?"
"Er, only three."
"Seriously?" It was hard to believe that. Chace was such a good-looking guy, and athletic too. Were all the girls blind at his school?
"I was busy," he explained, keeping his eyes off my face. "Sports kind of took up a lot of my time."
"Were they long relationships?"
"Not really..."
"Oh," I responded awkwardly. "Um..."
He looked at me curiously. "What was your longest relationship?"
"Seven months last year," I told him. "I broke it off."
"Why?"
"I could tell he liked another girl, so I figured the only reason he was staying with me was because he didn't want to hurt me," I responded indifferently.
The corners of Chace's lips curved down. "Oh, I'm sorry..."
I smiled, shaking my head. "Don't apologize. It's fine. He and I are friends now, so it's all good."
"That's good. It's your turn."
Taking my ball into my head, I let my thoughts drift back to Chace's words. It was seriously hard to believe he only dated three girls. Surely sports couldn't take up that much time... He had to have some kind of social life. Was it because of his parents divorce? According to what he told me, he would've been a sophomore. That would've been a hard time. But still...
"Awesome, Rosie!"
"Huh?" I blinked, not realizing I'd even rolled the bowl. Gazing down the lane, I noticed all the pins were knocked down. "A strike!" I cried happily, turning to Chace, nearly jumping up and down.
He grabbed me into a tight hug, picking me up off my feet and twirling me around. "Good job!"
Laughing, I slapped on his shoulder to get him to put me down. "Let go of me! You're making a scene!"
Finally he placed me back down on my feet. "Okay, now you get to ask a question."
"How come you keep taking me out on dates?" I blurted without thinking. It was the first thing to pop into my mind.
Chace stared at me blankly for a moment while I struggled to hold in a blush. "Er..."
"You don't have to answer that," I said quickly. Damn, I'd made it awkward quick.
"I keep taking you out on dates because you're a fun person," he declared after a few moments. "And every time I see your cute little face, I know I want to see it again and again."
Now the blush did spread across my face. My heart beat a little faster as well. "I like seeing you too."
He gave me his trademark heart-stopping grin. "That's good to know."
"Yeah," I mumbled, ducking my head in embarrassment. Maybe I could take his words as a good sign. It was hard for me not to have a crush on him with his personality, his looks, and everything else about him. I just didn't want to be the only one that wanted our relationship to become more intimate. My biggest fear was Chace doing all this while just wanting to be friends. Even if he called them dates, I still wasn't positive. I wanted to be sure. I could definitely see myself falling in love with this man.
With that thought, it felt like a bolt of electricity zipped through me. Falling in love with him? I couldn't fall in love with Chace. The truth of that shocked me. I was going to be blind in less than four months. He wouldn't want to be with a blind girl and I wouldn't blame him. Who would? If I fell in love with him, it would only be a bother to both of us. But still...
It wasn't fair. Just like every other girl, I wanted to find the perfect boy and stay with him for the rest of my life. Chace might not be that guy, but for now, he was the closest thing to him. And my stupid disease was going to ruin everything. Once my four months was up, that was it. If we were still friends, we might talk, but I'd never see him again. I'd never see his handsome face, or his cute smile ever again. I'd never see the way his eyes lit up when he got excited again. Or the way his hair sometimes fell into his face. Or the way his arms swung higher than normal people's as he walked.
"Rosie?" Chace started quietly. "What's wrong?"
I hadn't realized I'd been tearing over until he spoke. "My eyes..." I whispered, my heart clenching in nervousness.
"What? What's wrong?" He placed his hands on my shoulders, bringing his head to eyelevel. "You can tell me."
"My eyes..." I tried again, doing my best to force my words out. I had to tell him now. I had to reveal to him I was losing my vision. He needed to know now, before I grew too attached to him. "They..."
"It's okay," he soothed me, running his thumb under my left eye, catching a stray tear. "What about your eyes? Do they hurt? Is there something in them?"
My heart stopped. No, I couldn't tell him. He was so kind... I wouldn't be able to deal with the pity in his eyes, or the sympathetic gestures. There was also a chance he wouldn't want to deal with it and would never want to see me again. I couldn't survive these next few months without him. Sure, my friends would be with me, but they weren't the same as Chace. "Yeah," I said finally, wiping my eyes. "I think I got dust in them..."
A look of relief crossed his face. "Oh," he breathed. "Why don't you just go to the bathroom and rinse them out then?"
"Sure," I agreed, forcing a smile. As soon as my back was turned to him, I dropped it. Deep in my heart I knew I was going to regret telling him, but I couldn't do it. It was selfish of me, but I wanted him with me until the day I couldn't see him any more. Then I would let him go.
On my way to the bathroom, I kept my eyes on the ground, not wanting anyone to see the redness around them. When I turned the corner that led to the restrooms, someone crashed into me, knocking me flat off my feet. I landed on my butt roughly, letting out a small groan.
"Crap, sorry," the guy who'd ran into me apologized, gripping my upper arm and yanking me to my feet. "I wasn't paying attention."
"It was an accident," I responded, looking into his deep blue eyes. Surprise ran threw me as I recognized him as the guy who winked at me. Dirty blonde hair covered his head, reaching a little longer than the normal length for guys.
"Ah," we both stated at the same time.
He grinned. "Your Chace's girlfriend, right? Did he make you cry?"
My mouth opened in surprise, but no words came out. After a moment, I managed to regain my composure. "You know him?" They hadn't greeted each other when we passed by earlier.
"Yeah. We went to high school together. We were on the same soccer team. He used to be my best friend."
"Used to?" I said, echoing my thoughts.
He gave me a sheepish look. "Yeah, last year we got into a really big fight... We haven't spoken since and we go to different colleges."
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, cupping my elbow with my left hand.
"Actually, I've been meaning to speak with him," the blonde informed me, brushing his hair out of his face. "Maybe not here, but in the near future. Would you mind giving him my number? I can bet you he deleted it."
I nodded. "Yeah, no problem."
He grinned, holding out his hand. "I'm Noah, by the way."
"Rose," I responded, placing my hand in his. "And I'm not Chace's girlfriend."
A tiny frown flickered across his face. "Oh. I was hoping you were."
"Why?"
"It'd be nice to see him with a girl," he responded, laughing sheepishly. "He was never big on dating."
So it was true. "Huh."
"He's okay though?"
"Yes...?"
"Not depressed or anything?"
I shook my head. "It doesn't seem like it." Noah's questions were beginning to intrigue me. What exactly did the two of them argue about?
"Well, um, my number... I don't have a pen on me."
"I'll put it in my cell and then give it to him," I offered, pulling my iPhone out of my pocket. "Ready?"
He gave me his digits, telling me to save his number in my contacts too. "Hopefully we'll see each other again," he said with a smile. "I'm going to go back to my friends and let you be on your way."
"Sure," I replied, waving. "See you around."
Noah left and I twisted on my heel and followed him back to the lanes. I didn't have to use the bathroom or flush out my eyes, so it was pointless to continue. The encounter with the blonde had taken up a good amount of time, so hopefully Chace wouldn't be suspicious when I returned. I didn't want to let him know I'd been on the brink of crying.
"Hey, Cutie," he greeted me when I was close enough to hear him. "Your eyes okay?"
I wish, I thought dryly. "Yes, sir!"
"Ah, you also seem in better spirits," he noticed, smiling. "That's good. Do you want to finish up our game and then head out? Maybe we can get that ice cream tonight. We never got that pizza, so I'm hungry."
As if on cue, my stomach rumbled. Embarrassed, I placed a hand over it. "Sounds good."
"Good. Now go, you're up again."
I glanced down at my phone in my hand. Was now a good time to tell him I ran into Noah? After glancing between his happy face and my phone, I decided to wait. I'd tell him in a text. That way I wouldn't ruin his good mood. And maybe I could convince him to tell me what he and Noah argued about.
"I hope you like five scoop sundaes," Chace said offhandedly, "because that's what you're going to get."
My jaw nearly dropped. "You're going to make me fat!"
"You have to eat it all," he returned wickedly.
"Chace!"
He began to laugh evilly and I marched up to the lane with my ball, bowling as hard as I could. There was still a chance for me to turn this around.
"Gutter ball!"
Or not.
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Phew! Chapter four. I've decided I'm not going to be able to finish this for NaNoWriMo... but technically I've already almost written my 50,000 words this month between this story, ASR, and WDIW. So I'm not counting this as a failure :D In fact, I'm happy, because it means I can make this story longer. And I want to. Because I have a bunch of ideas and twists and turns for it x)
Hope you guys liked it! Please vote! :D
Today's song... The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Marionettes by Alesana. Their new album kind of sucks though so boo.