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“While bowling?” she asks, looking up at me with mistrust.
I shrug as I hand off my credit card to the nearest arcade worker. “It’s communal. Also, it would tell a good story for the press to harp on. Something about how you getting pissed off about your loss is so cute, you know.”
She reluctantly changes into bowling shoes, her lips pursed and a strange, combative look on her face. “What?”
I raise my brows. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes,” she says, striding over to take one of the bowling balls. “It’s problematic that youautomatically think I’m going to lose.”
I am amused. “It’s not a thought,” I say, aware that this is probably the first real conversation we’ve had all night. “It’s a fact.”
Gigi glares at me, but I note that the loathing is missing from her eyes this time. She merely looks irritated.
“Fine,” she says. “You’re on.”
She sends the ball spinning down the bowling lane. The ball veers off course about halfway and sinks into one of the gutters. She tries the second time, with a similar result.
It’s almost impossible to hold back my mirth.
“I was distracted,” she says hotly, looking even more annoyed.
“Sure,” I say. Gigi isa lot of things that I cannot stand, but she’s also downright adorable.
“You try it then,” she says.
I grab a ball, step forward and throw it down the alley. All pins come crashing down.
“Perfect shot!” a man at the bar yells.
Gigi looks like she wants to pummel the guy. “Beginner’s luck,” she insists, reaching for another ball. “Just watch.”
She swings, and this time, she gets eight of the pins.
“See?” she says, a slightly mollified look on her face.
“Still not perfect, though,” I observe.
She looks at me, her lip twitching. But she turns away and reaches for another ball.
When it’s my turn again, I roll the ball down the alley, and it slips into a gutter.
I’m not imagining it now. Gigi has a full-on grin on her face.
“Told you so,” she says. After my second turn, she reaches for another ball and lobs it down the alley. She scores nine this time.
My amusement grows as I go for my next turn. I’mevenconsidering losing on purpose to see her smile again.
I banish that thought in the next moment and throw the ball. It hits five.
“Yes!” she yells, jumping up. When she looks at me, she’s smiling again.
“I’d like to see you top that!” she shouts.
I reach for a ball, my amusement blunted by a sharp sting of concern.
It’s getting harder to remember why I’m here. What I’m here for.
I keep my amusement in check as we go through the next few rounds. It’s more difficult than I thought it would be. With every round, Gigi gains on me and gets more ecstatic.
