Page 16 of Stat: Love In Scrubs
I lifted one hand from the wheel in mock surrender with a smirk.
“I wasn’t going to say a damn thing because we know what’s up. If anybody is easy, it damn sure was me.”
She stared at me with a straight face before we burst into laughter together, making fun of our first meeting.
“So, are you ready to tell me where we’re going yet? I would hate to think I didn’t catch the serial killer vibes on you.”
I shook my head before responding.
“You don’t like surprises much, huh? And definitely not a serial killer. I damn sure don’t have enough time for that.” I joked.
I glanced in her direction, and she shrugged her shoulders before responding.
“I don’t think I’ve been given many surprises. I was raised by a single dad for a good portion of my life. He is a straight-shooter kind of guy and didn’t find any reason not to tell me what I wanted to know. Most times, I would know what I was getting for Christmas before I unwrapped it.”
I laughed.
“I get that. My mom gets on me all the time about allowing Esa to have an imagination about things. But I personally don’t see the point of lying to her. I will say I at least keep Christmas a secret. What was the point of him wrapping it if he already told you?”
I glanced briefly in her direction to see her smiling. I could tell her father was her happy place and was very important to her.
“Before Maria came around, he would just give them to me on Christmas, like, here you go. I hope this is what you wanted from that list. But when Maria came around, she told him he was taking all the special parts of Christmas away by doing that. It didn’t bother me, but I also didn’t mind it when she changed things. She is part of the reason I am who I am today.”
I kept my mouth closed, choosing not to comment on the subject. I could tell that her talking about Maria and her father put her in a new headspace. It took us another ten minutes before we pulled up to the Stars and Stripes Bowling alley. I didn’t want to go on a clichéd dinner date. Not to mention, Ineeded some fun, and with the job she had, I could assume she needed some too.
“How did you know I liked to bowl?” she asked.
I tapped the side of my head. “It’s all up here. Don’t touch that door handle, I got it.”
She smiled, then released her hold on the handle to wait for me. Once I parked, I got out, then opened the door for her before leading her into the bowling alley. It was in full swing, but I had reserved a VIP suite-styled lane. It had custom lighting; we had our own server, and besides that, there were only a few people near us, so it wasn’t as busy or loud.
Once we made it to the front counter, I gave the clerk my name, to which she responded by asking for our shoe sizes. I had already paid for the lanes before I came, so she printed me a receipt, then had someone lead us over to where our lane was. Liz and I grabbed the balls we wanted to use, then placed our order for drinks and food.
“When I met you at the club, you told me your name was Liz. Is that true?” I asked.
She smiled, then gripped her hips. “It is my name, well, my middle name shortened. My first name is actually Yara.”
“I like that, it fits you. Do you prefer I call you Liz or Yara?”
“Doesn’t matter to me, but nobody actually calls me Liz.”
I nodded, then picked up my ball to bowl my turn since she wanted me to go first.
I lined up with the dots on the floor, then rolled it down the lane, knocking over every pin. I turned around with a smirk, then walked back to where we were seated.
“You think you’re the shit this early on?” she asked.
“I can’t help it. I’m good, baby.”
She scrunched up her nose, feigning annoyance with a smile. Then grabbed her ball and strutted towards the lane with an extra sway of her hips.
“Let me show you how to really throw a strike,” she announced.
“Aye—” I called out.
I opened my mouth to warn her about her shoes, but she was already in motion. She pulled her arm back, then tossed the ball. Only for her foot to step briefly over the line in her regular shoes. Her body collided with the bowling lane. In a fit to catch herself, she landed on her right arm. The sound of her hitting the lane—that sharp smack of body meeting wood—made everyone in nearby lanes stop and stare.
The sound made my heart jolt against my rib cage. I was up in seconds, rushing to her side. My gut twisted at the way her wrist bent wrong, too wrong.
