“Go ahead,” I said. “Show me up. I dare you.”
He took his time lining up his shot, but when he released the ball, it landed with a loudthunkand promptly went into the gutter.
When I raised an eyebrow, he said, “I meant to do that.”
Reid’s second roll managed to do only slightly better, knocking down two of the pins. When he sat down next to me and saw the grin on my face, he shrugged. “What? I’m the one with the brain injury. You should be going easy on me.”
I bellowed out a laugh as I stood to take my turn. “You’re some kind of musical prodigy. You can let me have this.”
“Hey, Superman. I don’t have to let you have shit. I’m just warming up.”
I let out a low whistle at his teasing and said, “It’s getting serious now. Care for a wager?”
“For how many points you’ll let me win by?”
“I’m not letting you do a damn thing. I don’t like to lose.”
I rolled another strike, and when I plopped back in my seat, Reid shook his head. “I’m beginning to regret all my smack talk.”
“Giving up so soon?”
“Never.” Then something over my shoulder caught his attention. “He’s still looking.”
“Red shirt? Let him look.”
“You’re really not interested?”
“Would you really want me to up and leave you here to bowl by yourself?”
Reid frowned. “Not really. Apparently I’m a shitty bowler. I shouldn’t be left alone. At least not without gutter bumpers.”
Chuckling, I pushed him off his seat. “Go forth and gutter it, then. It’s your turn.”
“Minigolf,” Reid said when he returned after two gutter balls in a row. “I bet I’m really kickass at minigolf.”
“You want me to give you a couple of pointers on your next turn? Free of charge.”
“And admit you’re the bowling king? Never.”
“Suit yourself,” I said, but before I could pick up my ball, Reid ran up behind me.
“Okay, okay. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to at least learn how to avoid the gutter.”
“You think?” I grinned and stepped onto the platform. “Now watch what I’m doing. I’m turned just slightly to the right, and I’m far enough away to make about four steps before I let the ball go. Now, to try for a strike, the ball needs to hit the pocket between the first and third pins. That’s the one in the front and the one to its right. So that’s where I aim.” I backed up and then followed the instructions I’d just laid out for him, and a few seconds later, the ball smashed into the pins, sending them scattering.
Reid put his hands low on his hips. “I’m pretty sure that’s how I was doing it.”
“You let go of the ball so late there’s probably a dent in the lane. Come here.”
He hugged the ball to his chest, and when he moved closer, I put my hands on his shoulders and guided him to where he needed to stand. “See those arrows down there? You’re right-handed too, so you want to aim for the second arrow on theright. And make sure you get low enough to let the ball slide out of your hands.”
“Oh, so you don’t throw it like a baseball?” Reid said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, and had he been mine, I would’ve been tempted to kiss that smirk right off his face.
“No, smart-ass.” I tried to ignore how close we were, his back brushing against my front. I tried not to breathe in the scent of the shampoo he wore or run my hands down his shoulders to his biceps. I didn’t need to think about the way his skin would feel beneath my hands, or imagine the quiver of his stomach as I reached for the button of his pants…
“You want me to drop it where?”
I let go of him and stepped to the side to give him room to move. “Take about four steps, keep your eye on that arrow, and then sweep it through like this once you get about here,” I said, showing him the follow-through.