It was a strike.
I turned around and strut-danced off the platform, dusting my shoulder and doing a spin in time to the Michael Jackson song playing as everyone cheered. Rose jumped out of her seat with her hands in the air.
“Get the fuck out!” she cried.
“I told you,” I said with a shrug.
Tyler was still laughing by the time I reached him. “Wow. Full of surprises, aren’t you?”
I smiled and picked up my beer, drinking it, playing at coy.
“Nobody ever sees you coming, do they?”
“Did you?”
He laughed again, and the sound made my heart flutter as he bent down to kiss me again. And that was when I decided I really would be fine with the night, no matter what happened.
I was one hundred percent not fine with what happened that night.
It started off innocently enough with Bayleigh and Martin, just the two of them sitting next to each other and talking between their turns. Tyler, I learned, is a horrible bowler, and the only way that his competitive self could deal with it was by making the whole thing a joke. If you were wondering whether or not it’s hilarious and ridiculous to watch a six-foot-six athletic hunk of man granny-shoot a twelve pound bowling ball, the answer is yes.
I also spent a little time with Bayleigh and Rose, ogling Patrick while he bowled. He maybe had a perfect ass, and he was covered in tattoos, neck to heel. He also had a perfect jaw, one that was set in concentration as he bowled what ended up to be a decent game. I couldn’t even manage to be unimpressed when he rolled a gutter ball while the three of us girls sighing like a swooning peanut gallery of estrogen-fueled baby makers.
But then Martin put his arm around Bayleigh. And then she leaned into him. And then she asked him to show her how to bowl, which pissed me off, not only because he stood behind her, chest to back, arms around her while he showed her how to move her hands and where to put her weight, but because he was a terrible bowler.
I tried to just think about Tyler. I tried to let Bayleigh do whatever she wanted — she was a grown woman, after all. But the whole thing just felt like a grave mistake, like the world would spin out of orbit if the two of them got together. They looked all wrong together: pretty Bayleigh with her tiny frame and long blond hair next to a messy-haired accountant who probably weighed less than she did. He could barely keep his pants up, for God’s sake.
So I drank. Then I drank a little more, all in the hopes of finding some sweet spot where I didn’t give a shit. But, looking back, I should have known better than that — the second Martin showed up, it was a lost cause. My irritation climbed with every moment, and by the time we’d finished our fourth game, I was nearly at the end of my fuse.
We all sat around the lane, waiting for everyone else to finish so we could tally up the scores and determine our winners. Rose sat on Patrick’s lap at the console, and Tyler and I sat next to Bayleigh and Martin on the benches, listening to Martin talk about Tyler’s horrible bowling over the occasional crash of pins or cheer from a bowler.
“Seriously, remember that time we bowled at Fast Lanes in Lincoln with the football team?” Martin asked.
Tyler started laughing. “Oh, God.”
Martin’s smile was bright. “You were bowling with that hot-pink eight-pound ball. Like, you could have palmed it.”
“I did palm it. I shot-put it down the lane.”
Martin snickered. “And that old lady attendant chased you around the bowling alley trying to catch you to kick you out.”
“I almost broke my ankle jumping over a ball return to get away from her. She was so mad, she was chasing me with the disinfectant spray they use on the shoes.”
“Oh, my God,” I said, laughing.
“And then Kyle got on the microphone and started rapping ‘Ice Ice Baby,’ so she’d chase him instead,” Martin said.
“Word to your motha’” they said in unison.
Tyler shook his head. “She didn’t know which way to run. We got banned for life after that.”
Martin laughed so hard he snorted. “Dude, I almost forgot when she went back to the mic, yelling for Earl to come back from his smoke break and help her catch the dumbshit kids wrecking the alley.”
The laughter finally died down, and Bayleigh sighed, cheeks flushed. She tucked her hair behind her ear, and when she lowered her hand, it rested on Martin’s thigh. He smiled over at her, scooting a little closer.
At that point, I honestly couldn’t see anything clearly. Everything was red. His arm was around her, and they looked happy, which should have made me happy, but I found no joy. I thought about her and Greg at the bar, thought about what a good guy he was and how he deserved someone as sweet as Bayleigh. They’d be good for each other. I knew they would be, but here she was with Martin, and poor Greg was … I looked around to find him — he stood near the guys and a couple of girls, including Ruby. And he looked … well, he looked fine, but that pissed me off even more.
Tyler had invited Martin, and Martin had interfered with the grand plan. The plan that would eventually confirm the fact that I had been right about Bayleigh and Greg all along. But Bayleigh was the Titanic, and Martin was the iceberg. I scrambled for a way to course correct, but I saw no path.
So I decided to make one.
I stood and reached for Bayleigh’s hand, and everyone looked at me. But there was no time for subtlety. “Hey, come walk with me.”
Confusion passed across her face. “Where? What’s up?”
I tried to smile, but was sure it was all teeth. “Just wanted to walk around. Maybe get a drink.”