What’s with the flowers, dude?” my brother asks, pointing to my fisted palm that’s nearly choking the bouquet to death with my grip.
“Oh,” I say, lifting them and feeling suddenly numb. “I—”
“He lost a bet,” June says, coming to my rescue.
Hayden nods, accepting her answer, then dashes up the stairs, leaving the rest of us here in this instantly shrinking space.
“That a new thing there?” June says to her friend in a half-whisper I wish I didn’t hear.
“We’ve been talking a lot, with everything they’re going through, and I don’t know, it just sorta . . .” Abby’s head waggles side-to-side, but it’s the blush that colors her cheeks that has me defeated.
Just sorta.
The sudden need to rush from the room hits me, and I march across the kitchen toward June. “Here you go, a bet’s a bet,” I say, shoving the flowers I knew were a bad idea into her chest. She hugs them and lets out an “oof.”
I keep walking, making eyes at Lucas on my way out, knowing he’ll follow me to his truck so I can scream obscenities and feel like a fool with only him as my witness.
“Wow, someone’s a sore loser,” Abby teases from over my shoulder.
I huff out a laugh, not even able to lob one of my normal comebacks because she’s so dead-on. I am a sore loser. I’m also done catching feelings for some girl.
2
Abby Cortez
It’s not that June was quiet on the way to the bowling alley. It’s that she’s still quiet now that we’re inside. Things between my best friend and Lucas mended quickly, and very dramatically. I mean, yeah, they’ve been meant for each other since grade school, but a whirlwind romance like they had, right on the tail of the unraveling of so many lies—I just hope their honeymoon period hasn’t hit a brick wall so soon.
I’ve been searching for the right time to tell her my big news, but ever since we left the twins’ house, June’s been oddly busy. Quiet, yes, but also busy. Like now, for instance. While the rest of us are sitting on the table at lane eight waiting for June to bring us our bowling shoes, she’s standing at the counter shining them. They’re ugly bowling shoes! Why would we care if they glisten under the neon glow of this dump?
I’m dying to talk to my friend. I almost wish we hadn’t planned this bowling thing. I’d so rather be curled up across from her on her bed, jammies and all, while I spill my guts of the things I’m anxious about. This is my moment. It’s the one thing an actor hopes for, the big payoff after thousands of auditions. This deal means I might not be back for graduation, and prom is probably, definitely a no-go, but it’s a movie. Totally worth it . . . I think.
It also probably means my dad’s legal pursuits will get even nastier, if that’s possible, but damn it! I’ve been wishing for this break since I was six years old and singing my ass off on the community center stage as Indiana’s first Latina Annie. I got a perm for that shit, so if all this movie role requires is that I miss the last three months of my senior year, well, fuck it, man. Prom dresses are ugly anyway.
“Are we gonna bowl or open up a shoe store?” Tory shouts across the lanes toward June, who is still running a rag over the tops of the shoes on the counter. I knew I could count on Tory’s impatience to break the ice. As sweet as his brother is, he’s not a boat rocker. Tory D’Angelo, however, is the Ozzy Osborn of boats. He rocks things to the point of fire.
“I know how important your footwear is to you!” June shouts back to him. I laugh, but Tory only grumbles and sinks into the chair attached to the scoring computer.
“He’s just mad because I’m a better bowler than he is,” Hayden says, his voice crawling over my shoulder as he bends over the seat behind me. He lightly kisses my neck, then squeezes my shoulders. I exhale heavily, feeling my tension fall away with the pressure of his hands.
Never in a million years would I imagine a world where I am dating Hayden D’Angelo. The only thing less likely is a universe where me and Tory are a thing. But Hayden is just . . . so easy. He called me out