Page 79 of From Now On

“I knewyouwere going to make it dirty,” Rylan replies. “And Eve was the one who came up with it.”

Aidan tips an imaginary cap to me. I smile, then check my buzzing phone.

It’s a call from my mom. I silence it, then shove my phone away.

When I glance up, Hunter’s looking this way. I break eye contact quickly, focusing on Rylan setting up to bowl.

“Your name’s too long to fit, babe,” Aidan says. He’s perched in the chair behind the small computer that controls the screen. “Wanna be Swallow or SOS?”

“SOS,” we all say in unison.

Aidan keys in our team name.

Rylan rolls the first ball.

The green ball veers left, left, and then ends its roll down the lane in the gutter. Her second roll takes the same unfortunate path.

I relax a little. It doesn’t bode well for our chances of winning, but it means my poor performance will stand out a little less.

“That’s okay,” Aidan says, clapping encouragingly. “You know what they say.”

I glance at Harlow. “What do they say?”

Harlow laughs. “You’re either good at bowling—or good in bed.”

“Oh.” I laugh too.

“But—” She glances at Conor, who’s up next. His ball stays straight, smashing into the first row and sending all the pins flying. Aidan cheers loudly asStrikeflashes across the screen. “It’s bullshit,” Harlow finishes.

“Lucky you,” I tease.

“You’re up, Hayes,” Conor says, returning to his seat.

Harlow stands and carefully selects a purple ball from the rack. Squints up at the screen. “You guys are KD?”

“Knuckles Deep,” Aidan explains.

“I was close,” Rylan says.

I grin as Harlow walks to the line at the top of the lane, staring intently at the pins that have been reset in a triangle formation.

“Spread your feet, Hayes,” Conor calls. “And remember to keep your arm straight.”

Hunter groans. “Seriously, Hart? She’s on the other fucking team.”

“You didn’t lecture Phillips,” Conor retorts.

“Because I wasn’tcoaching,” Aidan interjects. “I was being supportive in the face of adversity.”

Harlow bowls a strike.

Rylan and I put Aidan and Hunter’s celebration to shame, chanting Harlow’s name as she returns to our side of the plastic seating section. Conor is grinning; his teammates are scowling.

“Don’t be sore losers,” Rylan calls. “I know my dad’s coaching stats. You guys have had practice.”

“Not this season. We’re national fucking champions!” Aidan cheers as he stands to take his turn.

He doesn’t manage a strike, but he does knock all the pins down during his turn. Since Rylan didn’t hit any, the boys are back ahead.

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