Page 80 of From Now On

The last time I went bowling was Amelia Holloway’s twelfth birthday party. Meaning I have little to no confidence in my ability to contribute to the team. I was never the kid who got picked first during gym class or made any significant contributions during dodgeball, and that was not when I was playing against three athletes.

But I stand determined to hitsomething. Maybe I’ll visualize a photo of my dad’s face to help motivate me. More of the hurt has faded, leaving pure anger behind.

Everyone’s watching me. The attention feels brighter than a spotlight as I stand and head for the rack filled with bowlingballs of different sizes and shapes. Why are there so many options and why do they all look different? I should have paid closer attention to which balls Rylan and Harlow selected.

“Hey, Phillips, didn’t you say you wanted to get snacks?” Hunter asks suddenly.

“Yes. You know I’m always hungry,” Aidan replies.

“Let’s go. Hart can monitor the girls for any cheating.”

“Hey!” Rylan protests. “I rolledtwogutter balls, and you’re accusing us of cheating?”

“Hart might let them cheat,” Aidan muses. “He’s clearly handedhisballs over to Harlow.”

“She’s never had toaskme to carry her,” Conor retorts.

I have no idea what that means, but Aidan seems to. He grimaces before glancing at Hunter. “Snacks?”

“Snacks,” Hunter agrees, standing.

“Anyone else want anything?” Aidan asks, giving Conor a look that makes him grin.

I obviously missed something. I shake my head no, and so do Conor and Harlow.

Rylan stands. “I’ll see what the options are.”

My gaze drops back to the rack of balls. At least I’ll have less of an audience for my first attempt. The spotlight has dimmed.

“Try the medium first.”

Hunter’s voice registers a half second before his proximity does. He’s only a few inches away. Close enough to touch. Close enough to hear the startled breath I suck in.

“And aim for the pin to the left of the center,” he adds. His knuckles graze my hand, hanging limply by my side, as he passes me and follows Aidan toward the concessions.

My mom loves candles. She always used to light them for dinner and it was my job to extinguish them after we finished eating. Before I lowered the snuffer, I’d stick a finger in the flame for a few seconds to see what it was like.

That’s how the aftermath of Hunter’s touch feels. Like a lick of fire, warm enough to feel but not hot enough to burn.

I grab a medium ball and glance over my shoulder. Rylan, Aidan, and Hunter are over by the snack counter, conversing with Frank. Harlow and Conor are both on their phones. Texting each other, probably.

I no longer have an audience.

My tensed shoulders relax, registering that. And something else occurs to me. Not only did Hunter do exactly what he chastised Conor for—helping the opposing team—he also caused a distraction.

Maybe it wasn’t intentional. Maybehewas hungry.

“You good, E?”

I startle at the sound of Harlow’s voice, almost dropping the heavy ball on my foot.

“Yep,” I reply, walking to the top of the lane. I focus on the center pin nearest me, then shift my gaze one to the left. Squint toward it, swing the ball back, and relax my curled fingers so it slips free from my grip.

Watch, heart racing, as it rolls, rolls,rollsdown the wooden lane. It’s on thelane, not in the gutter. It collides with the left side at an unimpressive velocity, but it tips one. One that tips another and another and another. Six fall in total.

“Yes, Eve!” Harlow cheers.

Conor’s smiling too.

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