Make Me Bad (Page 25)

This is getting a little pathetic.

I leap to my feet and wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Beer, anyone?”

There’s a chorus of resounding yeses, along with a few shouts for nachos.

My boyfriend—sign boy—is working the snack register. When I request two orders of nachos and six beers, he tells me the nachos are on the house and then winks before motioning down at the candy.

“Care for anything sweet? My treat.”

I’m about to take him up on his offer of some free Skittles when Ben cuts in and lays cash down on the counter.

“You can keep the change,” he says, starting to gather beers. I swear he nearly growls at the kid.

He won’t even look at me.

I take the last two bottles and the nachos, placing them on a tray.

“You really cramped my style back there,” I say as we walk back.

“Oh yeah? Is that the guy you have in mind for your first time? He weighs 75 pounds.”

I grin. “I could have sweet-talked him into giving me a chocolate bar if you hadn’t come along.”

“If you’re still hungry after all this, I’ll get you a chocolate bar,” he says, glancing down at my tray, which is loaded down with our stuff. “Can you carry that?”

“Yup,” I say before stuffing a whole nacho into my mouth and smiling proudly.

When we make it back to the group, I expect him to reclaim his old spot and go right on ignoring me. Instead, he tells me to scoot over and sits beside me, stealing a nacho. His hip is touching mine on the orange plastic bench. I take a long swig of beer, realizing I need it.

“You look different tonight,” he says as Andy hops up to take his second turn.

“Oh?” I ask, very cool, very confused. Me? Different? How so? “Good different or bad different?”

“Just…different.” He leans back to assess me then reaches for a strand of hair. “I’ve never seen your hair straight.”

I shrug. “Well, don’t get used to it. It took a woman at the mall like an hour to style it like this. I’d never have the patience to do it myself.”

His brows tug together. “You got your hair done for tonight?”

Shit. What? No! What kind of loser gets her hair done for bowling?

I shake my head. “Just needed a haircut,” I lie, and for once I’m grateful it’s biologically impossible for men to tell when a woman has cut her hair. I swear my dad and brother never notice.

“It looks good.”

Three words, not even all that flowery, but he might as well have declared his love with the way my heart is beating.

I smile as I bring my beer back to my lips. He watches me take a sip, and are we the only ones in this bowling alley or does it just feel that way now? I swear he’s about to lean in and tell me something, but then Eli nudges me in the shoulder, announcing it’s my turn.

“Clear the area,” Andy shouts, hands forming a megaphone around his mouth.

“Ha ha ha,” I say, playing along with his joke. “Just watch—I’ll get it this time.”

I do not get it this time. I somehow manage to miss every single pin even though the gutter guards ensure my ball makes it all the way down to the end.

When I retake my seat, Ben nudges me. “That’s impressive. I think it might be harder to not hit a single pin than it is to get a strike.”

His sly smirk all but seals my fate. I spend the precious minutes between my second and third turn sharing nachos with him and praying he’ll say more things that make my stomach dip. Suddenly, I’m up again.

“Ugh, do I have to go?”

It really is embarrassing.

Ben stands and hooks his hands under my arms, forcing me. “C’mon, I’ll help you.”

We all know what that means. We’ve seen the movies. Ben’s going to stand behind me a little too close, touch me a little inappropriately, all in the name of sport. And, of course, because our friends are all mature adults, they whistle and catcall us as Ben moves up behind me.

“Oh yeah, Ben, show her how it’s done,” Andy says.

Ben flips him off.

“Oh, I’m not sure, Ben—do I stand like this?” Arianna mocks and okay, she’s funny, and I like her. Also, how dare she?

“Don’t listen to them,” Ben says, shuffling us toward the lane.

“This is a little cliché, you have to admit.” I smile and glance at him over my shoulder. Whoa—I didn’t realize he was right behind me. His lips are in danger of touching mine. Sure, I’d kind of have to go up on my tiptoes and crane my neck, but still. Someone crank the air in here ASAP.

“I know,” he says with a shrug. “But you really suck and I can’t allow things to continue like this or there’s no hope of us winning.”

He leans down to arrange my feet so one’s staggered in front of the other. Then he loops one arm tightly around my waist so I’m forced to stay right there, pressed against him. His other hand wraps around my forearm so he can guide my arm back, showing me how to take aim before I let go of the ball.

“Got it?” he asks, breath on my neck.

“Show me again.”

“Oh my god.” Kevin laughs. “Did she really just say that?!”

Joke’s on them. When I do eventually roll the ball down the lane, I manage to sink five pins. I turn around and Ben’s there, smiling. I walk toward him to accept his double high fives. His fingers lace through mine and we stay like that for a few seconds longer than necessary. Eyes locked. Hearts pounding.

“Nice job.”

“Thanks. It was all in my form.”

He smiles. “You have really good form.”

Suddenly, we’re not talking about bowling.

Eli whistles. “Okay, just to be clear, that one totally doesn’t count. Ben basically bowled that turn for you.”

One game turns into two, then three. I have a second beer and my technique really improves. In one turn, I manage to knock down six pins. It’s a personal record. Kevin and Eli buy us all another round of nachos and some pepperoni pizza that looks barely edible. Of course, we all attack it like vultures.

“Not fair,” I groan, trying to steal the last slice from Ben. “I barely got any. I had to share mine with Kevin.”

He arches a brow and takes a massive bite. Half the slice is gone.

When he chews, he wears a little smirk.

I narrow my eyes. “Evil.”

He holds it out to me and the gesture is clear: take a bite. It’s nothing, I tell myself. Don’t read into it. I lean forward, eyes locked with his, and take a bite, ensuring I steal the last pepperoni. There’s a little sauce on my bottom lip and I lick it off. He’s wearing an expression I don’t quite recognize, one that makes my spine tingle, so I reach out for our beers and force his into his hand. We both take hefty swigs.

It’s my final turn and I jump to my feet, eager to prove my skills. The game’s tied. We’re neck and neck with Arianna and Andy. They’ve won two games, though, and they’re getting cocky. They’re talking about joining a bowling league, asking the manager to put their signed headshots up on the wall. It’s time someone taught them a lesson.

“Ben, hold my beer,” I say, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and then walking over to retrieve my pink sparkly bowling ball. Earlier, a twelve-year-old tried to steal it. Eli had to tell her to scram.

I’m less steady on my feet than I was an hour ago. The lane looks ridiculously long. I’ll never be able to get the ball all the way down there, but I want victory more than I have all night. I start to walk forward, gaining momentum, rear back, and let the ball go. It rolls fast, not hitting the bumpers once. When it’s close to the pins, it’s still centered perfectly in the lane.

No way. NO WAY!

My hands shoot to my mouth. The ball connects and every single pin goes flying.

“OH MY GOD! I DID IT! I DID IT!”

I’m jumping up and down. If I could cartwheel, I’d do one. Big hands spin me around and Ben lifts me up.

“Did you see it?!” I ask as the room whirls around me. My smile is so big it hurts.

He laughs. “Yeah, I was right here.”

Of course.

My feet dangle off the ground as my body slides against him. Our hips are aligned perfectly. We sizzle.

“It was a really good strike,” I conclude, my voice breathy. “Best one all night, if you ask me.”

His gaze is on my lips as his arms tighten around me. “Agreed.”

“I want to rub everyone’s faces in our victory.”

“We can hear you.” Eli laughs.

“Also, you haven’t won yet,” Andy points out, bitter. “Ben still has to go.”

“Right. Don’t botch this for us,” I say as he sets me back down. My tone is full of mock solemnity. I brush a hand over my clothes as if to straighten them. Clear my throat. Try to affect a more serious manner. “This is important. It all comes down to you.”

As he prepares to take his shot, I walk back over to our group. Eli bumps my hip and I glance over. He straightens his glasses then lifts his chin toward Ben.

“You two are really cute.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“Maddie, c’mon—it’s obvious you two have feelings for each other. You’ve been flirting all night.”