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Perfect. That just made his plan easier.
Tully scanned the area. She’d said she hadn’t been bowling for a while. It seemed more like she’d never been ever. Even with a straight face, her eyes sparkled with intrigue. Nathan’s lips tilted up, but didn’t make any remarks. She’d been jumpier than normal today.
Their argument had put him on edge too, yet seeing her without her usual collected stoicness concerned him. He could tell she was nervous about something, and it made him nervous too.
But it also reminded him of something: a forbidden memory he’d been forced to forget, about a girl he’d met at a party in a pool. He also wasn’t supposed to think about what happened in his bedroom at that party, but it was inevitable sometimes. Especially when she seemed more reactive toward him than on a normal day. Then he saw those puppy dog eyes again by his locker and his attempt to hold off his forgiveness for a little while longer gave way. He just couldn’t say no.
Those memories had single-handedly made it easier for him to omit most of his anger and move on with the haphazard plan he’d come up with while staring at the ceiling last night.
“Come on, we need to get our shoes,” he said and waved for her to follow him to the nearest countertop lined with shoes of varying sizes. She followed without resistance.
An older guy popped up when Nathan rang the bell on the counter, his thin white hair combed from one side of his head over the other. “How many?” he asked.
“Two.” Nathan held up corresponding fingers.
“What sizes?” The man already fiddled with a couple of pairs.
“I’m a size ten, and she…” He trailed off and gave Tully a look. Her wide eyes flicked up to him then back to the shoes.
“Uh, an eight.”
The attendant ran his finger over the back heels of the shoes, stopped on one, picked it up, stopped on another, and suddenly two pairs of shoes were shoved into their faces. “Three dollars for the shoes and an hour on lane fifteen.”
Nathan fished a bill out of his pocket and slapped it onto the counter. The cashier didn’t have a chance to grab it.
“What are you doing?” Tully asked and whisked the bill back into his unsuspecting hands. He almost dropped it, surprised by it being shoved at him. He spoke once he had a steady grasp on the money.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Itlookslike you’re trying to pay for this when I already agreedIwould takeyoubowling. This ismytreat this time,” her hands fumbled around with something in her bag, and then she pulled out a separate five-dollar bill and held it right in front of the confused cashier’s face. He glanced at Nathan like he was asking for permission to actually accept this, but Nathan was too focused on the determined girl. Her set jaw challenged him to deny it. “You can’t keep telling me to treat you and then go and pay for it yourself. Makes me look like I can’t handle it.”
Nathan’s lips quirked up, and he raised his hands in amused defeat. “By all means, treat away.”
She nodded, satisfied with his answer, and shook the bill in the man’s face until he gave in and accepted. She gave Nathan a short but closed-lipped smile.
One minute later, Tully was three dollars poorer, and Nathan was one miniscule smile richer.
He’d take it.
Lane fifteen was in the perfect spot. Smack in the middle of two other groups of people he knew. One of which was Clarissa Montague, a perfectly nosy audience member.
“Do you normally hang out here on weekdays?” Tully asked and sat down on the plastic chair next to their lane. A row of bowling balls was next to her, varying in colors from plum purple to puke green.
She slid off her shoes to make way for the new pair, so Nathan stole the chair next to hers in their assigned lane and did the same. They moved in unison, untying one shoe, adding another, retying.
He wasn’t sure if Tully was oblivious to the whispering behind their backs, or if she was great at pretending it wasn’t there. He, for one, could feel the hushed words and lingering stares scrape against the back of his neck like sharp nails. A familiar, irritating sensation.
It wouldn’t bother him so much if he didn’t already know that they were working on how to morph whatever Tricia had told them. A long, distorted game of telephone.
He just had to cut the cord.
“Not really. But I am today and for good reason,” he pulled the rabbit-ear laces tight and stood up, rocking from heel to toe to test the size.
“And what’s that?” Tully stood up after him and pressed on the edge of her toes. He watched her closely, thinking very hard about what he would do next.
Giving her a warning beforehand might have been a good idea, but it would ruin some of the authenticity. He found from a little experience, that shecouldbe much more convincing when caught off guard. Or, it could all backfire. The scale swung either way.
She turned to the row of balls and studied each one. Her finger ran over a lime green one, contemplating it.
