Anyone related to me wasn’t a part of the HEA crowd.
You could argue with me all day about the merits of true love, but in my opinion, it wasn’t worth the risk.
It always came to an end.
And then there was nothing.
When Bec and I used to sit next to each other in bio, we laughed and screwed around and texted secret jokes about what the acronym of Mr. Post’s first name （Uwe） stood for. I looked forward to that class because she made it fun.
It felt good to have someone to have fun with.
But after we dated—and subsequently broke up—we didn’t speak in that class anymore. She looked at her phone or talked to Hannah （who sat on the other side of her） every day, and I… felt alone.
Every fucking day.
Fuck.
But that was why Bay and I needed to go back to being “annoying coworkers.” It felt good, being with her, and I didn’t want to lose that.
Man, I sound fucking insane.
“They’re wildly overprotective,” Dana said, and I could see in my peripheral vision that she was looking at her phone.
“So did I see a picture of you in a rat costume on the wall?” I asked, forcing myself to make a damn effort. “That’s kind of a bold costume choice for a little kid.”
“No.” She laughed, setting her phone on her lap. “I mean, yes, you did, but that was from when I was in The Nutcracker. Ballet, not Halloween.”
“Ah,” I said, nodding. “Makes a little more sense.”
“Yeah,” she said, and then she picked her phone back up.
It was pretty much that way the entire drive to the bowling alley, a Q&A session with no chemistry whatsoever. There was nothing wrong with her, but it just didn’t feel like we were connecting.
As we walked into Mockingbird Lanes, though, I wondered if I was just tired. I’d barely slept last night, and the dog had woken me up at the ass crack of dawn, so maybe it wasn’t a lack of chemistry but a lack of my ability to feel.
“Bailey!” Dana yelled, lifting up an arm to yell across the crowded bowling alley.
I followed her gaze and saw Eli and Bailey, standing in front of the shoe counter.
Fucking fuck, my ability to feel was apparently just fine.
Bailey was wearing jeans, a thick wool sweater, and the new tortoiseshell glasses that she kind of hated but I thought were cute as hell. The off-white color of the top made her dark hair seem shinier than usual and made her eyes look a brighter green. Eli leaned down a little bit to hear her, and I knew he could smell the freesia lotion she always used.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the roll of TUMS. Can you just fucking inject them straight into my veins, Universe?
“Come on,” Dana said, and I hadn’t realized I’d just been standing there, staring.
I followed her through the crowd, and when we reached the shoe counter, Eli gave me a wide grin and said, “Have you ever had a broken bone?”
“What?” I stole a glance at Bailey, who was watching me with a tiny crinkle between her eyebrows.
“I was just saying to Bay that the way you chomp down antacids must give you superstrong bones, right? With all the calcium?” he said, and Dana gave a little chuckle of support. “As long as I’ve known you, chomping those TUMS.”
“I’m sad to report that I’ve broken two fingers, a wrist, and an elbow,” I said, my face getting hot. “So your theory is shit.”
We all laughed as the four of us got our shoes and went to our lane, and I tried to ignore the way Eli’s comment made me feel, because I didn’t need a fucking acid reflux spiral. I’d had an appointment with Dr. Bitz that morning, and even though I felt like a child when she kept repeating, There is nothing wrong with you, Charlie; it’s just the way your body reacts to stress, I found myself replaying it in my head.
I kept trying with Dana, but I felt zero interest from her whatsoever. It seemed like she was way more into hanging out with Bailey and Eli than getting to know me, which I was absolutely fine with.
Meanwhile, Bailey looked like she was trying really hard with Eli, and I hated that.
I hated that she was trying hard, because what did that mean?
But most of all, I hated that it was making me so fucking jealous.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE Bailey
Why did Charlie have to wear that T-shirt?
I sat there at the scorer’s table beside Eli, clueless as to what to say to the guy because we literally had nothing in common and struggled to get past one-word answers. But every time Charlie bowled and stretched out upon release, a tiny strip of skin between the top of his jeans and the bottom of his shirt was exposed. It was nothing risqué—at all—but it reminded me of how shredded he was, of how hot he’d looked, shirtless, when we’d FaceTimed so he could talk to his cat.
It reminds me of how it felt being close to him.
Charlie got a strike, then turned and walked toward our little seating area.
“Looks like he’s forging a comeback,” I said to Eli, watching Charlie walk off the lane.
“Yeah,” he replied, also staring out at the lane.
“You’re up,” Charlie said to Dana, giving her a teasing smile. “But maybe try to knock the pins down this time.”
“Haha,” she said, smiling back as him as she stood and walked toward the ball return. “Cocky words coming from the man who currently has a sixty-seven.”
Why was her flirting so irritating? I wanted her to like Charlie, but did she have to be so… so… giggly?
It was giving me a stomachache.
“I’m holding back to make you look good,” he announced. “You’re welcome, Dana.”
She giggled at that, and I needed one of Charlie’s TUMS.
“And you’re welcome to polish my ball when I’m done,” she retorted, lifting her chin and giving him a smile that made my fingers clench.
God, could the date get any more annoying?
Twenty minutes later, I realized the answer to that question was HELL YES.
“I cannot believe you were at that show,” Eli said, smiling and showing his very perfect teeth. “What a small world.”
“Right?” Dana said, laughing as she picked up her soda. She was almost as tall as Eli as she stood beside him and said, “There were only like fifty people in the place, tops. What are the odds we were both there?”
“You’re up, E,” Charlie said, sitting at the scorer’s spot beside me. He muttered under his breath, “More bowl, less talk.”
I watched my date, my tall and handsome date, pick up a ball and get ready to approach the lane.
“Don’t trip again,” Dana teased, which made him turn around and give her an adorable fake glare.
He bowled a strike, and when he came back, Charlie said, “Take my spot.”
Eli sat down beside me to take over scoring, and Charlie said, “Hey, Eli—did I tell you that Bailey used to live in Alaska, too?”
Eli looked at me. “You did? Where are you from?”
“Fairbanks,” I said.
“Ah—I lived on Eielson Air Force Base,” he said, pointing to himself. “Practically neighbors.”
“Cool,” I replied, nodding.
And then we both smiled and looked at the lanes in front of us.