Page 23 of Time for Change

Clearing my throat, I look up and say, “Let me put these in some water, and then we can go.”

“Okay,” he replies, standing at the door and slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfortable,” I tell him, heading to the kitchen. I don’t have a vase, so I grab the tallest glass I have and fill it with water. I unwrap the bundle and place them in the glass. I know I should cut the bottoms off them so they fit in the glass better without being top-heavy, but I can do that later. All I want to do is get to the rest of our date.

When I turn to the entryway of the kitchen, I find Jack standing there, leaning against the cabinet, the faintest smile on his lips as he watches me. “Sorry, I don’t have a vase,” I find myself saying, lamely.

He shrugs, standing at his full height once more. “That’s okay. A glass works just as well.”

I nod before moving to the small dinette table and grabbing my coat. As I start to slip my arm through the sleeve, he’s there, lifting the coat and helping me. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies, and I catch a faint whiff of his woodsy scent. “Ready?”

“Yes.” I grab my bag and start for the door. The moment both locks are secured, we head for the stairs and down to his car. “So, where are we going?” I ask as we step out into the cold January evening.

“Well, I was thinking we could go bowling.”

I stop in my tracks and turn to face him. Bowling? He wants to take me bowling? I’ve never been, and it’s one of the activities I’ve been dying to do.

When I don’t say anything, a look of panic crosses his face. “If you don’t want to go, that’s fine. We can do something else,” he quickly insists, his eyes a little wide.

“No,” I blurt out, reaching out my hand and placing it on his chest. “I really want to.”

He looks a little skeptical. “Really? You won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t want to bowl. I know it’s not for everyone, but—”

“I want to. Really. I’ve never been bowling.”

“No?” he asks, relaxing a little.

“Nope, and as lame as it sounds, it’s a bucket list item for me,” I assure him, a little giddy at the thought of going bowling for the first time.

Jack smiles widely as he offers me the crook of his arm. “Well, then, let’s get to it. Nothing says fun like bowling shoes and stale nachos.”

A giggle slips from my mouth. “I can’t wait.”

He opens up the passenger door of his truck and waits until I climb inside before shutting the door. I’ve never dated anyone with manners like his. It’s a breath of fresh air.

The drive to the bowling alley isn’t too long, and we fill the time with small talk. He asks about my day, how I like my job, and how I’m enjoying living in Stewart Grove. I find out a little more about the business he co-owns with Caden, as well as the fact he’s lived in this town his entire life, with the exception of when he was away for trade school.

When we pull into the large lot in front of the bowling alley, I get really excited. “There’s a restaurant inside too. We can either grab something to eat from there, like burgers or pizza, or we can go somewhere afterward.”

I glance up at the big building with neon lights around the windows, my stomach growling. “Pizza and bowling? Sign me up!” I declare, already removing my seat belt and grabbing my bag.

Chuckling, he climbs out of the truck and meets me at the front. He reaches for my hand and slides his fingers around mine. His skin is warm, his fingertips slightly callused, and my breathing hitches in my throat. Butterflies take flight in my stomach, and I’m pretty sure I start to sweat a little in the armpits, but I refuse to let nerves get the best of me.

As Jack pulls open the glass door, pop music fills the air, as well as the sound of balls hitting bowling pins. Everywhere I look it’s like sensory overload. There are old pinball machines, arcade games, and air hockey in the large space at the front, and all I want to do is grab some quarters and play.

“Where do you want to start?” he asks.

I realize I stopped in the middle of the room, just taking it all in. “I don’t know,” I say with a chuckle.

He squeezes my hand and smiles. “How about we go grab something to eat, and we can see how long the wait is for a lane. If there’s a line, we can come out here and play. Otherwise, we’ll stop here after we bowl a game or two.”

I nod, eager to get to it. We head for the front counter with the wall of bowling shoes behind it. “Good evening,” the young woman with a youthful smile on her bright red lips greets.

“Hi. Is there a wait for a lane?” Jack asks.

“Nope. Number thirteen is open. How many games?” she asks, typing into the computer.

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