“Need some help?” He snickers, leaning forward to inspect my work.
Play Can’t Help Falling in Love by Haley Reinhart
I let out a sigh of defeat and swing my foot onto his lap. My ankle rests gently against Saint’s knee as he gets to work, spinning the frayed strings together until they mimic a singular lace once more. It slides right into place and he ties the laces together. The bow flops down onto either side of the shoe.
“Thank you.”
“Always.” He smiles up to me, giving my ankle one last squeeze before I let it drop to the ground. A cover of an old Elvis song begins to seep from the old speakers speckled around the ceiling. The moment feels like one that belongs in a romance novel. Honestly, everything about being loved by Saint feels that way. Thousands upon thousands of words, all dedicated to love.
“Should I go first?” Saint stands up, walking over to obtain a ball for the both of us.
“I’ll go first,” I state with false confidence. “Have to scare the competition, you know? Show them who’s in charge.” I wink at him as I pull the ball from his hands. He crosses his arms as his eyes stare me down. The playful smirk displayed across his face could melt me into a puddle. He drags his bottom lip through his teeth seductively.
“You’re trying to throw me off my game, aren’t you?” I scowl.
Saint holds his hands up with surrender. “You started it, miss ‘I’m a scary bowler now.’
I let out a small laugh as I spin on my heels. With my eyes set on the ten white pins in front of me, I feel like I could pull this off. I haven’t bowled in years, maybe it’s not as hard as I remember.
My arm swings back with more speed than I had intended, and when I let go of the ball it flies up rather than forward. The weight of it slams down onto the alley, rolling maybe a foot before falling directly into the gutter. The sound echoes throughout the entire building and the embarrassment has drenched me.
A slow clap sounds from behind me. “Very scary indeed. Make sure no one's around you for the next throw.” Saint laughs out, walking up to me and kissing my forehead. His humor helps ease the internal screaming. “It could’ve been worse,” he whispers as he cups my jaw. “You could’ve cracked the flooring.”
I go to rebuttal but the moment my mouth opens, Saint takes the opportunity to dip his tongue into me, silencing our banter with a heated kiss. My head spins as the euphoria of him fills me.
“My turn,” he smirks at me as he walks up to the lane. With perfect posture, he swings the balls. It rolls seamlessly down the lane, immediately granting him a strike.
My jaw falls open as the memories finally hit me. “You were in a bowling league! How could I forget thatSaint Kennedywas in a damn bowling league?!”
He bows as if he had just given the performance of a lifetime. “Good thing we already shook on it.”
My eyes bulge. “No! No way!” I stomp over to him, completely bewildered. “There’s no way the deal is still on.”
Saint leans forward, nibbling on my ear lobe before lowering his octave to whisper to me. “Don’t pretend you didn’t want me to win.”
My body instinctively responds to his words, melting into his hands. A light whimper escapes me as he kisses the pulse point of my neck.
“Your turn.”
I roll again, barely knocking down a single pin. Each turn after that I swear just gets worse and worse. I’m so wrapped up in the desire growing in me, leaving me completely useless. Saint wins by a long shot, laughing and kissing me as I pretend to be annoyed.
His genuine happiness is the highlight of the day. He has been fighting so hard to overcome the battles he has hidden from the world. I couldn’t be more proud of the man in front of me.
His fingers wrap tightly around mine as we leave the building. “Do you want to grab food on the way over to my place?”
As if on cue, my stomach rumbles. “Yes please!” I groan out.
Play Flatline by Jared Benjamin
Empty takeout boxes cover the bottom half of the bed as Saint and I stay curled up at the top. His fingers dance playfully along the bottom seam of the shirt I stole from him. Each time one of them dips lower and caresses my skin I buzz with anticipation. Saint hasn’t said a word about our bet, but it’s all I’ve thought about since the hunger pains subsided.
“Can I ask you something?” He questions with a low voice.
“Hmm?”
Saint’s eyes search mine as a look of uncertainty washes over him. “Why me? Why be with me, especially after everything?”
I bite my bottom lip, lost at how to convey myself.How could it not be him?Something tells me this was always meant to be. In some way, our souls have always been tied to one another, destined to entangle. I was never meant to be with someone else.
