NOAH
Allie doesn’t fight me when I hold her hand after we leave the country club. I almost didn’t attempt that maneuver, but in the end, I couldn’t help myself. Something about her feels so right and I want to enjoy all the time with her that I can before going back to Chicago.
One of my favorite things to do on a date is to go for a walk. Enjoying an evening stroll with someone is a great test to see if there’s any reason for a second date. And yes, I know that Allie and I aren’t dating, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.
When we get back into the car, I tell her, “I had a great time. Thank you for coming with me.”
“Thank you,” she says. “I probably won’t have to eat for a week.”
“You had a salad,” I scoff. “I had deep fried fish and chips. If anyone should be complaining, it’s me.”
She side-eyes me while saying, “I also had a bowl of creamy clam chowder, and my salad had all kinds of cheese and nuts in it.” She sighs, “I love eating in the fall.”
“Better food?” I ask, thinking of the pumpkin binge I’m going to start indulging in soon.
The light emanating from the dashboard is enough for me to see the twinkle in her eye as she explains, “More clothes to hide the result of all the food I eat.”
I can’t help but grin at that. Allie knows who she is and she’s not going to pretend to be some delicate eater to impress a man. Good for her.
“It’s only nine,” I tell her. “How do you feel about doing something else?”
“Like what?” She glances at me as though I’m suggesting something sketchy.
“Bowling?” I ask.
She shakes her head and groans, “I hate bowling.”
“Who hates bowling?”
“I do.” She turns so she’s facing me. “I’m horrible at it, and I always skip my ball. I even knocked over a little kid once.”
I release a bark of laughter before asking, “How did you do that?”
She rolls her eyes. “You know how kids are. They’re everywhere.”
“They’re not typically in the bowling lanes,” I tell her, eager to find out how this accident occurred.
“No, they’re not,” she agrees. “But sometimes they’re standing beside you while you’re bowling.”
“So are a lot of other people. That’s why you’re supposed to keep the ball in the lane.”
“I know. But my friend snuck up on me and tickled me, and I just sort of turned and threw my ball.”
“At a child?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“What happened? Was the kid okay?”
“Surprised more than anything,” she says. “Her mom seemed to take it in stride and told me things like that happen all the time when you have kids.”
“What would you do if some crazy lady threw a bowling ball at your kid?” I ask her.
“I won’t have to worry about that.”
“Why? I mean, it happened to that poor kid you mowed down.”
Even though I can’t see her cheeks changing color, I assume they are. Allie has an adorable little blush that pops up whenever she’s embarrassed.
