“Okay, let’s do this,” she says, and slips her hand in mine as soon as we start walking to the building.
On cue, there’s the photographers from before. They take their snaps, our smiles locked in place, and twenty seconds later, I’m opening the door for her.
“So we’ll get our shoes first?” she asks me as we step inside.
But before I can answer, a woman approaches us. “Hi, I’m Cindy, the manager Taylor spoke to? I’ve got everything set up for you.”
“Do we need to get our shoes though?” I ask.
“No, she sent me your sizes, and I pulled them for you.” I look at Avery and she shrugs, so we follow Cindy farther into the building. “I put you at the end of the lanes so you have a little privacy.”
“That’s great,” Avery says. “Thank you.”
A handful of heads do double takes as we walk down to our assigned lane, and a few people whip out their phones. I try to ignore them. It’s what we planned for.
When we get to the end of the alley, a teenager is waiting for us. He’s enormous despite his baby face. The closer we approach, the more excited he looks.
“This is my nephew, Caleb. I asked him to help you two today with anything you need.” She leans toward me. “He’s also on the defensive line of his high school team, so I thought he’d be the right person to make sure no one bothers you.”
“Nice.” I step toward him to offer my hand. “Thanks for being our protection.”
He takes my hand, shaking it eagerly. “I’m a huge fan. It’s an honor.”
“He’ll get you set up for your games,” Cindy continues. “Are you hungry? Nothing fancy here, but we have chicken fingers, pizza…”
I glance at Avery and she shrugs. To Cindy, I say. “I’d never complain about chicken fingers.”
“Great, I’ll bring some over,” she says before taking our drink requests, which ends up being water for both of us.
“Wild night,” Avery says to me with a nudge. We share a smile before Caleb starts getting us organized.
Five minutes later, bowling shoes on, scoreboard loaded, pins racked, and properly sized balls in hand, we’re ready to go.
There are a couple of women taking pictures here and there, but it’s not constant. Maybe Caleb is intimidating the others. Or they’re just respecting our privacy.
“Can you go first?” Avery asks. “I need to watch what you do.”
“Yeah, sure.”
I’m not what you’d call an avid bowler, but I’ve done it enough that I remember how to get spin on the ball so it doesn’t land in the gutter.
My first attempt is hardly noteworthy, yet I still get four pins down on one corner. And then I get another three down on the second try. Seven total.
“Not bad,” Avery says. “Better than what I’m about to do.”
She stands and grabs her ball, and then walks to the lane. Instead of getting in position, she turns back to me.
“How am I supposed to stand?”
Caleb starts to move towards her to help, but I put my hand up so that he stops, and I make my way to her instead.
“Okay, so…” Then I realize the easiest way to do this. “Can I touch you?”
There’s a teasing look in her eye. “I suppose.”
“Okay so, you’re going to position yourself like this.”
I put my palms on her hips and shift her so she’s at the right angle. Only, when I pull her back toward me to be the correct distance from the pins…
