“I can’t remember the last time I bowled,” Finn admitted as he put on his borrowed shoes.
Robbie eyed his own before deeming them acceptable. “So you’re rusty, then.”
“When was the last time you bowled?” Finn shot back.
“You doubting my alley prowess?”
Finn arched his eyebrows. “You gonna start bragging about what you get up to in alleys?”
And okay, he had a point. That had sounded much dirtier than Robbie intended. He glanced at Imogen and Sawyer, who were absorbed in the screen, filling in the names of players. “Tempting, but maybe later, darling.” He finished tying his laces and slapped his thighs. “For now, the lane is calling and we’re going to find out who the superior bowler is.”
“And you think that’s gonna be you?”
“It’s gotta be somebody,” Robbie chirped. “Why not me?”
They were all terrible. The game was more of a stumble to the bottom than a race to the top. They were all prone to gutter balls, and soon they cheered any ball that knocked down pins.
“This is really embarrassing for you,” Sawyer told Robbie as they neared the end of the first game.
“Forme? Why not you?”
Sawyer shrugged. “You were the pro athlete for, like, twenty years. Your ineptitude just hits different.”
“Savagery. Brutal savagery. Why don’t you pick on Finn?”
“He’s got twenty more points than you,” Imogen pointed out and then took a sip of water.
Robbie clutched at his heart and slumped back into his seat. “Traitors all. I rent you the finest bowling footwear and buy you their most coveted snacks—”
“Not yet, you haven’t,” Sawyer pointed out.
“—and this is how you repay me. Vicious slander and libel. Turning against me.”
“It’s your bowl, drama queen,” Finn said. “And nobody’s put anything in print unless you count the score.”
Robbie popped up and swanned off to knock down a grand total of three pins.
As Imogen took her turn, he sat back down next to Sawyer and was suddenly assailed by a memory that had him shaking his head. “You know, I went bowling with your mom and dad and their friends once when I was about your age. I don’t think I’m any better at it now than I was then.”
“They took you on theirdate?” Sawyer asked, wrinkling his nose.
“Ah, I was visiting while my juniors team had a break. Our parents pretty much forced Vince to let me tag along.” Not that Vince had minded all that much—he showed Robbie off as his future pro-athlete little brother.
Which made it that much funnier when he sucked at bowling.
“Anyway. Your mom was awful at it. Worse than you, even. Worse thanme.” He poked Sawyer’s side. At the end of the lane, Imogen put both hands up in a victory V as her first ball knocked down five pins.
Robbie should’ve waited to tell this story until after she finished—he shouldn’t take the shine off her triumph. So he kept his mouth shut until Imogen somehow picked up the spare and got high-fives all around.
Then he said, “She was, like, the worst loser too.”
Sawyer gave him his full attention. “Wait, really?”
“Oh, yeah. I could tell she was trying not to be a bad sport, but she had no poker face at all. She was miserable.”
“So what happened?”
He didn’t realize Finn had stopped to listen to the story, interrupting the game play, until the computer beeped at them in reminder. “Ah, well, she decided if she wasn’t going to be the best, she was going to be the most entertaining.” He smiled at the memory. “So after her third gutter ball….” He glanced at Finn, who raised his eyebrows.
