Page 41 of Right Up His Alley

The crash of the pins echoes, but neither of us cares whether it’s a strike or not. It doesn’t matter. Without another second passing, I rush toward him. He’s there, arms wide, catching me, and I crash into him.

The next breath doesn’t come before his mouth is on mine.

Everything else falls away as we cling to each other, breathless. Our hands press across each other’s backs, grasping like we’re both afraid of losing what might come next.

Control.

Quicker than I would have wanted, his lips leave mine, and he buries his face into my shoulder, like he’s stopping himself from going any further.

There’s a part of me that wonders if stopping is a good idea. Throwing myself into the arms of the man who, until recently, I didn’t think liked me much. The man who is risking everything just to allow me to be a part of Spare Time’s rebirth. It’s not lost on me that getting too close to the host could damage both my reputation and Ezra’s family’s legacy.

Especially if my father forces me into playing in the final tournament, making me a liar and a betrayer of Ezra’s trust.

He holds me close for a beat longer, breathing me in. But then, he pulls back. He glances past me like he’s suddenly aware of where we are. Almost as if he was able to hear my thoughts out loud.

“I guess you really want to meet the rest of my family.”

The king of distraction. The master of avoidance. The keeper of all my desires.

“I do.” I smile, hoping he sees how much it would mean to me. “Should I bring something?”

He laughs. “Please don’t. I’ll never hear the end of it from my family if you end up cooking something gross.”

“I’ll stop and pick up a side from Judy’s BBQ.”

“Good call.” He drags the toe of his shoe against the ground. “You can also not come if you⁠—”

I put my finger over his lips, realizing just how easy it is for my mouth to feel jealous of another part of my body. “I’m coming.”

He rolls his eyes, but without missing a beat, he asks, “Is that why you have a wet spot on your pants?”

I look down, embarrassed for a second, until I realize I like the idea of Ezra being able to make me wet with just a kiss. “Why don’t you get down there and inspect it?”

“Oh? You’re talking dirty to me now?”

I grab his waist and pull him in, the side of my head nuzzling his neck. My boldness catches me off guard, but what surprises me more is how easily he lets me in. I’m completely swept away, knowing he and I are letting ourselves be in this moment—a moment I’ve secretly wanted since I first saw him the day I returned to the alley. And it feels so fucking good. We hold each other for what feels like a lifetime, but it’s really only about two minutes before he pulls away.

This time, I’m not letting him run away from his worry, his self-doubt. “Talk to me.”

He stumbles over his words, gathering his thoughts before he finally speaks. “Do you think the USBC is going to find out what we’re doing? Bowlers in the tournament aren’t supposed to fraternize with hosting alley owners. What if we get caught?”

His words mimic similar fears of my own, especially when it comes to feeling torn between right and wrong. What if I can’t stop myself from giving in to my father’s demands to keep competing, and I end up failing Ezra? What if the USBC, and every professional bowler or fan, gets word I’ve been juggling my reputation and integrity, just hoping the balls don’t drop? I’m just as worried as Ezra, but I don’t show it. There’s no point in making us both paralyzed with anxiety.

Doing my best to look unbothered, I raise an eyebrow, shrugging. “Who’s going to tell the USBC? Or even care that much? It’s not like I’m getting inside information from you about your alley. So far, I’ve already bailed on painting. To be honest, I really haven’t helped all that much.”

“If you say so.” He tries to sound equally nonchalant, but I can see the doubt creeping in.

We stand facing each other, the air tight with all our worries, and when he lifts his hand, I reach for it, our fingers sliding together and lingering in a quiet, intimate hold.

Suddenly, a voice calls out, sharp and jarring. We both jerk apart, startled, as if we’ve been caught doing something we shouldn’t. Even though we have been.

I reach for my shirt to cover up while Ezra runs a hand over his face and through his hair, like he’s trying to wipe away any trace of how close we’ve just been. Then I remember the stain on my pants and quickly wrap one leg over the other, trying anyway, even though it’s almost impossible to hide at this point.

“Sorry to bother you. The door was wide open, so I just walked in.” The man lets out a cough. “My name is Gary Swingston, and I’m a representative from the United States Bowling Congress. Is Mr. Ezra Jiménez here?”

Holy fuck.

“Ahem.” Ezra shifts back. His cheeks flush like the red stripes on a pin. He rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat again, like maybe the first time wasn’t enough. “That’s me. How… how can I help you?”