I got this, Trent said as I made a motion to get my wallet from my shoulder bag. He was grinning as he counted out the cash. Were on a date, he told the man proudly as he handed the bills over, and I flushed.
The guy behind the counter glanced at me, then Trent as if he was dense. I can see that, he said. Let me sanitize your shoes.
Setting both pairs on a scratched pentagram behind the counter, he muttered a phrase of Latin. My internal energy flow jumped as a flash of light enveloped the shoes. I knew the light was just for show, but it was reassuring, and I took my shoes as the man dropped them before us. The leather was still warm, stiff from having been spelled so often.
Enjoy your game, he said as he handed us a scorecard and a tiny pencil. All food stays at the bar. Slumping, he fumbled in a plastic bin. Heres your food and beer coupons.
Trent was smiling, looking totally out of place despite his jeans and casual shirt as he took his shoes. Thank you. Lane three?
Nodding, the man hit a button on a panel, and it lit up, the pinsetter running a cycle to clear itself.
This is so weird, I said as I fell into place behind Trent.
Why? He looked over his shoulder at me. I do normal things.
Pulling my gaze from him, I scanned the ball racks for a likely candidate. Have you ever been here? Doing normal things?
Trent stepped down from the flat carpet to the tiled floor and our lane. Honestly? No. Jenks suggested this place when I asked him. But the burgers smell great.
Jenks, eh? Thinking I was going to have a chat with the pixy when I got home, I dropped my shoes on one of the chairs and went to pick out a ball. Trent was tying his shoes when I came back with a green twelve-pounder with Tinker Bell on it. Clearly it had been someones personal ball at some point, and therefore might have some residual spells built in, charms I could tap into if I guessed the right phrase. Trent eyed it in disbelief when I dropped it on the hopper, but the first feelings of competition stirred in me, and I looked down the long lane and the waiting pins in anticipation. This might be okay. Id had platonic dates before.
Youre kidding, he said as I sat down and slipped my shoes off to tuck them under the cheap plastic seats.
They say you can tell a lot about a man by the ball he uses.
His eyes met mine, and feeling spiked through me. Okay, it didnt have to be completely platonic. Not if we both knew it was the only date wed ever have.
Is that what they say? he asked, head tilted to eye me from under his bangs, and I nodded, wondering why Id said that. The shoes were still warm, and I felt breathless as I leaned to put them on. Trent slowly rose, his motions out of sync with the sappy love song, but oh so nice to watch. I fumbled my laces and had to start over when he stopped at a rack and lifted a plain black ball with an off-brand logo. This one looks good.
Good. Yeah. What I liked was the way his butt looked, clenched as he held the extra weight of the ball. Slowly I shook my head, and he replaced it.
Better? he asked, hefting a bright blue one, and I shook my head again, pointing at one way down on the bottom of the rack. Trents expression went irate. Its pink, he said flatly.
I beamed, tickled. Its your choice. But its got a charm or two in it, I bet.
Looking annoyed, he hefted the pink monstrosity, his expression changing as he probably tapped a line and felt the energy circulating through it. Saying nothing, he came back to our lane and set it beside mine. I am so going to regret this, arent I?
I leaned forward, heart pounding. If youre lucky. You first. Feeling sassy, I stood, almost touching his knees as I edged into the scoring chair. The masculine scent of him hit me, mixing with the smell of bar food and the sound of happy people. My heart pounded, and I focused on the scorecard, carefully writing Bonnie and Clyde in the name box in case anyone was watching the overhead screen.
What am I doing? I asked myself, but Trent had already picked up his pink bowling ball, giving me a sideways smirk before he carefully stepped to the line, settled himself, and made a small side step to probably compensate for a slight curve.
I exhaled as I watched him study the lane, collecting himself. And then he moved in a motion of grace, the ball making hardly a sound as it touched the varnished boards. Trent walked backward as the ball edged closer to the gutter, then arced back, both of us tilting our heads as it raced to the pins to hit the sweet spot perfectly.
Boohaa! I cried out, since thats what you were supposed to do when someone pulls a gutter ball back from the edge, and Trent smiled. My heart flip-flopped, and I looked away, scratching a nine in the first box. Ah, nice one, I said, as he waited for his ball to return.
Thanks. His fingers dangled over the dryer. But I swear, if you tweak this ball like you do my golf balls, Ill put fries in your beer.
My head snapped up, and his smile widened until he laughed at me. Leave my game alone, he said, the rims of his ears going red.
Youre going to regret that statement. I promise you that, I said, and he smirked as he took his gaudy pink ball and set himself up to pick up the spare. Damn it, this was so not smart, but I couldnt help but watch him. My fingers were trembling as I wrote down his score and stood for my first roll. I enjoyed flirting, and to be honest, it was almost a relief after biting back so many almost-said comments the last month.
And after all, it was only one date. One night of freedom so we both had something to compare the last three months with and know that they were not dates.
Just one night. I could do one night.
Five
He eats his fries with mustard? I thought, watching Trent set the yellow squeeze bottle down and pull his basket closer as we sat at the bar and finished our dinner. The burgers had been heavenly and the conversation enlightening, even as it had been about nothing in particular.
Happy, I made a final notation on the scorecard and let the tiny pencil roll away. Okay, okay, Ill give you that last one, but only because Im nice.
Nice, smice. Trent dipped a fry and pointed it at me. I took that pin fair and square. I can do magic while bowling. He ate his fry and lifted a shoulder in a shrug. You not knowing the charm doesnt make it illegal.
Well, no, but it was kind of cheesy.
Cheesy? He chuckled, looking nothing like himself but having everything I liked about him. Id had a great time, and Id been watching the clock with the first hints of regret. It had been unexpected, that feeling of forgetfulness, free for a time of who I was, and who he was, and what was expected of us. I didnt want it to end. Where did you learn to bowl?
Trent watched his fingers, carefully picking out his next fry. University. But you cant use magic at the West Coast lanes. Its not illegal, but its too unpredictable. How about you?
I chuckled, glad when the music turned off. We were closing them down, and it felt good. My brother belonged to a young bowlers league. When my mom worked weekends, he had to watch me. If I promised to leave him and his friends alone, hed buy me a lane at the outskirts where I could mess around.
Trents gaze went behind me to the last of the bowlers finishing their games. The cleaning staff was making inroads, but they wouldnt shut the door for almost an hour. Sounds lonely, he said, dipping a fry.
Not really. But it had been. He was looking at my mouth again, and I wondered if he wanted to kiss me.
I dropped my head, and he shifted on the bar stool, the motion holding frustration.
That was the best burger Ive ever had to pay for, he said to fill the silence. Im going to have to stop in the next time Im in the area.
When do you ever get out here? I could look at him now that he wasnt looking at me.
Never, he admitted, his attention falling from the TV. But Id drive for this. Mmmm. The fries are good, too.
You should try them with ketchup, I said, and then not knowing why, I pushed my basket toward him. There were a few fries in it, but it was the puddle of ketchup I was offering.
I have, he blurted, eyes wide to look charming. I mean, I do, but not in public.
I looked at his pointy ears, and he actually blushed.
Right, he said, then dragged his fry through my ketchup, not meeting my gaze as he chewed.
He used my ketchup, I thought, and something in me seemed to catch. The good with the bad, yes? I said, and when I lifted my pop, we clinked bottles. Hey, Im sorry about losing it today at the golf course. I should have handled that better. Bullies get the best of me.
Absorbed with his fries, he shook his head. Dont worry about it. It surprised me when he brought up my background. Ill do better next time. Ive got a response now and everything.
I took a swig of my drink and set it down. Good luck remembering it. I always forget. I wasnt hungry, but I liked the idea of sharing a puddle of ketchup with him, and I ate one last fry. Its worth it, though, dont you think? Not hiding?
I took a swig of my drink and set it down. Good luck remembering it. I always forget. I wasnt hungry, but I liked the idea of sharing a puddle of ketchup with him, and I ate one last fry. Its worth it, though, dont you think? Not hiding?
God yes. Ive not had to make any ugly decisions since Lucy came home.
His voice had softened, and it was easy to see the love for his child. I knew he loved Ray just as much even though she didnt have a drop of his blood. Ray was Quen and Ceris child. Trent had only repaired her damaged DNA, but the girls were being raised as sisters, especially now that Ceri was gone.
So they come back tomorrow, I prompted, wanting to see more of that soft look.
Trent nodded, the beer hed nursed the last hour hanging between two fingers an inch above the bar. There was only one couple left at the lanes, the cook scraping the grill, and the guy at the shoe counter cleaning each pair before calling it a night. I liked Trent like this, relaxed and thinking of his kids, and I quashed a fleeting daydream. I couldnt picture him in my church, living with the pixies, waking up in my bed. Stop it, Rachel.