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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Imagine that each set of two sentences is a frame of bowling. The second sentence in each set is a chance to achieve a spare.

When you found out that the camaraderie event would be at the bowling alley, you groaned. Then he challenged your bowling prowess and you couldn’t wait for Thursday night.

When you left the house, Roy didn’t notice that you had curled your hair. Then he smiled at you across the parking lot, and you knew you hadn’t done it for Roy.

When you entered the building you were met with knocking pins and stale smoke. Then he passed you joking with Kevin, and your senses found one voice, one cologne.

When Roy and Darryl disappeared into the bar to watch hockey, you were put out. Then he waved you over, and you turned your back on the bar.

When you put those silly shoes on, you slipped on the steps down to the lane. Then he showed you how to skate across the carpet, and you tried in vain to keep up.

When he teased you about your tiny ball, you laughed. Then he tried to put his fingers into the holes and you saw only smooth knuckles and broad thumbs.

When you stood ready to throw, you could feel his eyes on your back. Then it was his turn, and you decided that all men should just wear Levi’s and be done with it.

When you waited for your ball to return, you held your hands over the little fan. Then you caught him looking at them and your ring felt heavy.

When you threw your third gutter ball, you blushed hard. Then he stood behind you, guiding your arm, and you were so aware of his other hand on your waist that you missed your own strike.

When the lighting dimmed you joked about the disco ball. Then he tried out his smoothest moves and you laughed, begging him never to do them again, ever.

When he suggested a walk, you hesitated. Then he mentioned an ice cream stand, and you decided it was a safe story, at least.

When you walked, his words became swirls of steam in the cold air. Then he laughed, and you opened your mouth so that you could swallow some of that mist.

When he ordered, you teased him about his piña colada cone. Then he said it reminded him of warm sand and suntan lotion, and you imagined your hands slippery on his chest.

When you turned back toward the bowling alley, you walked more slowly. Then he suggested a different route back, and you knew that he was stalling as well.

When he tried to find his favorite constellation, you tried, too. Then he turned and found you looking up at him instead, and you realized you hadn’t tried for very long.

When you came to an icy corner of the parking lot, he pulled you onto it, joking about figure skating. Then he slipped and you lay on top of him, wishing away the layers of coats between you.

When he brought one of your curls to his lips, you watched for a glimpse of his tongue. Then you lowered your head, and tasted the beach on him.

When he whispered your name against your mouth, you felt alive. Then he was helping you up again, and somewhere inside you, a key turned in a lock.

When you stepped back inside, the heat made you want to cry. Then he put a hand on your back, and you could breathe again.

When you laid in bed that night, you tried to remember before you had to forget.


nomadshan is the author of 44 other stories.
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