“Huh? What the hell are you talking about?” I ask, confused.
“Guards, you know the things they put on the bowling lanes to stop people from sucking and throwing all gutter balls,” she teases.
“Baby, I think you mean bumpers,” I tell her.
“Same thing.” She shrugs.
They aren’t, but hey, if that’s what she wants to think, who am I to tell her she’s wrong?
We head to the next hole, and when I take my turn, the ball bounces off the cup and heads further away.
“Aw, better luck next time,” Aspen says as she pushes me out of the way.
She takes her shot and, of course, sinks it in one try.
Most guys would be throwing a fit right now, but I really don’t care. As long as she’s happy and having a good time, I’m happy, even if it is at my expense.
“Okay, I got to know, are you better at air hockey, or should we do laser tag after this? I’m starting to feel bad about how badly you are losing, and we need to rally,” she says as we head to the next hole.
I shrug. “I don’t care if I lose, as long as it’s a fair game and people aren’t cheating.”
She looks at me out of the corner of her eye. “You really aren’t like other guys, you know that?”
“Are you just now realizing that?” I ask as I bump into her shoulder.
“No, but sometimes it’s easy to forget. You never answered my question, though. Which do you want to do next?”
“Whichever one you want to do, my little songbird.”
She rolls her pretty green eyes. “I asked what you wanted to do. You let me pick mini golf, so it’s clearly your turn.”
“Hey, this date is as much yours as mine,” I remind her.
She finishes off her drink and sets it on a drop-off point with some other glasses for a busboy to come by and collect without having to bother patrons.
“Fine, laser tag, but I hope we end up on the same team.”
“Why do you say that? I could suck at it too.”
She shoots me a dirty look. “Don’t lie. We both know you were a fed, which means you had to qualify with firearms. You should be able to kick all these assholes’ asses with your eyes closed and one hand tied behind your back.”
I laugh. “I always scored perfect.”
“Of course you did.”
“Do you want another drink?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Nah, not right now. I want to ride the buzz for as long as I can.”
Earlier, when she switched her mixer, it did something to me I can’t quite explain. I was serious when I told her I was more than fine with her drinking pineapple juice and even eating the fruit itself. Just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean she has to cut it out of her life if it gives her joy.
The way she adamantly refused to, though, after leaning it makes my mouth feel scratchy, made my heart warm. Other than my sister, it’s been a long time since someone took me into consideration when making decisions about themselves.
I should probably figure out, though, if I am actually allergic to it or if it’s psychosomatic. I don’t ever want to take anything from her. Even something as small as a fruit.
We finish up mini golf, where she kicks my ass, and then head over to laser tag.
“All right, there are going to be six teams of two in there. Remember this is for fun and not life or death,” the worker tells us.
