Page 48 of Puppy Love

I mean, his hands are wrapped around hers, guiding her body to the perfect bowling form. I’m sure this is another attempt to distract me because, for someone who threatened to kick my ass at bowling, she’s sure acting completely clueless about it. Their arms draw back together, his other hand on her hip, then they roll. The ball makes a dull thud as it lands on the polished lane, barreling down the center.

I don’t believe in God, but I still pray for it to roll into the gutter. When they get a strike instead, I take a long swig of my drink. Cam turns around, flashing me a taunting smile.

“Nice practice roll,” I say. Cam tosses her head at the lane.

“Your turn.”

I shake my head.

“Some of us don’t need to practice.” I say it confidently and teasing, but I don’t know that I actually mean it. I haven’t picked up a ball in years. Hayden whistles.

“Violet’s getting spicy.”

I chuckle and sit back as I watch everyone finish their practice rounds. Avery rolls first. He chucks his ball so hard I’m shocked the wooden lane doesn’t shatter. He gets a strike though, and we all clap, impressed.

“You’re up,” Hayden says, patting my shoulder like I’m a kid on her first day of T-Ball.

I set my drink down onto the table and grab a scuffed red ball off the rack. Cam stands to the side, arms crossed as she watches me. I position my feet, one in front of the other, and make eye contact with her as I bend down slightly, revealing a small gap between my shirt and my chest.

Her jaw goes slack, just for a moment, then she quickly snaps it shut. My tongue pokes the inside of my lower lip as I try not to look too amused. My arm sways, my fingers release, and the ball glides effortlessly down the lane, crashing into the pins. They tip, falling into one another in a domino effect. But after the ball falls into the pit behind, I realize one pin is still standing. It wobbles, for a moment, then steadies itself, still upright.

“Nice!” Avery says, and Hayden claps theatrically. I pick up another ball, this one a shimmering cerulean. I line my feet up, take a breath, then release it.

The ball slips straight into the gutter, and I try not to hang my head in embarrassment. I tack on a smile instead and turn around with forced confidence.

“Who’s up?”

Hayden rolls, unattached to Cam this time, and knocks down six pins, then two more. Next, it’s Cam’s turn. She eyes me as if she’s trying to intimidate me when she walks up to the lane, a pink ball just slightly larger than the one I used in her hand.

My stomach sinks. Either it’s by complete chance, or Cam knew exactly which ball to pick up. It’s just right for her, thirteen pounds and the holes placed so her fingers stretch just the right amount. I swallow.

She steps back, holding the ball up to her chest, before lowering it down to her knee. She takes one step. Then another. Her arm draws back, the ball lowers down, and—

“Shit, watch out!”

The ball slips from her fingers, flying into the lane next to us. Synchronous gasps escape Hayden’s and Avery’s mouths as the ball thuds against the wood and barrels down the lane until it lands in the gutter.

Cam’s face grows beet red, her eyes widening and her nose twitching. Maybe when Hayden was helping her, she wasn’t pretending after all.*

“Hey kid, maybe you’d hit some pins if you stayed in your lane!” Avery shouts.

My next turn isn’t much better. It stays in our lane at least but goes directly into the gutter. And the next round, only two pins fall over.

“Tough streak,” Avery mutters, just as he rolls his fourth strike of the game. Luckily, Cam is struggling just a bit more than me, and I manage to stay a hair ahead of her the entire time.

It’s the last round. Avery just finished out at 216 points, and no matter how well the rest of us roll, there’s no doubt he’s the winner. But I’m not focused on the overall victory. I just care about my own.

I stare down the center of the lane, letting my brain fill with Dave’s voice.

“Aim between the pins.”

I exhale, tossing my arm back, then strategically letting go at just the right time. That same glittery ball spins down the wood, shimmering in the neon bowling alley lighting. It hits the pins with force, but not too much force, and seven pins crash against the wood.

I can’t stop myself from doing a little dance of victory as I pick up my next ball. Cam hasn’t rolled anything over a six, and though I’ve been struggling the majority of the game too, I’m confident now that I am going to win this bet.

My last roll is a one, bringing me to a whopping total of seventy-one points. Avery grins at my excitement, no doubt wondering why I am so damn happy, when my score is so damn low. Cam, however, is glaring at me, her arms crossed, dissatisfied.

I can’t help myself. I pull out my phone and click the thread titled “Sparky”

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