Was he…teasingme?
“Yep! Tons ofstuffto attend to,” I reply, mouth flattening into a straight line.
“Like what?” he challenges.
“Like…” I chew my lip, trying to conjure up a believable response. “You know. I just have some loose strings to tie up while I’m here.”
“Right,” he allows, eyes looking everywhere but mine, probably searching for a new section of the countertop to clean. “Well, you should really come tonight. As manager I’m supposed to encourage team building and all that,” he says in a rush, and then disappears behind the swinging double doors again.
When my shift ends, I find myself searching the back room for Declan as I hang my apron on its designated hook. Cardboard boxes and metal shelving units cover the concrete floors, similar to the back of the convenience store. He’s nowhere to be seen.
“So are you coming?” Harper asks as she hangs her apron on the hook next to mine. “To bowling,” she clarifies.
“Oh, uhhhh,” I stall. Turning her down for a second time seems cruel, and now that the sun was threatening to set, the thought of going home to the house without Lottie in it made my stomach flutter. Grief really did feel so much like fear.
“Yes, actually. I am,” I respond.
“No way! Okay, awesome! I’ll see you there.”
She smiles excitedly and trots away, and I’m left to wonder what I’ve just agreed to.
Chapter 15
Jonny’s Pints and Pins must be new because I never saw it in my eighteen years growing up in Seabrook.
The busy tourist season over the summers has done good things for the town, I suppose, if it means having this bowling alley with an adjoining brewery. And it’s strangely leprechaun-themed, which I guess isgood?
A small group of coworkers from the coffeehouse is huddled together, calling out what size they require for bowling shoes. I don’t notice Harper beside me until I feel a tap on my shoulder, and she says, “I’m gonna grab a pint. Want anything?”
I’m shocked that she’s over twenty-one.
“I’m okay,” I respond. She nods before scurrying toward the bar.
The lighting is dim. There are radio hits a decade too young to be considered vintage blaring through a tinny speaker. I follow my unlikely group of coworkers to our bowling lane.
“Anyone need bumpers?” a girl named Sonia asks, dark hair sashaying as she looks back and forth at everyone.
I shake my head no. Everyone else does too.
“Just me?” she laughs self-effacingly. “Alrighty, then! Let’s bowl!”
I sit on one of the two benches facing each other, politely watching Sonia toss the bowling ball down the lane like a terrified cat, yanking her hands back and squealing when it escapes her fingers. It zigzags dejectedly down the lane, hitting the bumpers a record amount before finally making it to the end. One pin hit.
“Aw, man! How is that even possible? The whole point of bumpers is that youhitthe pins,” she pouts, making eyes at a scrawny kid everyone calls “Grom” sitting across from me. I sense a budding romance forming between them. He’s the first person her eyes flicker to every time she makes a joke.
Someone gets up to bowl next, and I look around at the leprechaun-themed scene. Declan said he would be attending, and yet, I don’t see a hint of him. I watch Grom pick up a marble-green bowling ball and throw a perfect strike, followed by a girl named Luna, who is so quiet I’ve never heard her voice, even while taking orders.
When it’s my turn, I choose a medium-sized ball and aim for the leprechaun’s hat behind the bowling pins, but my body does not follow suit and the ball rolls down the gutter. I make eye contact with Luna as I walk back and we both titter silently.Harper waltzes back and sets a clear mug filled with an amber liquid onto the table as I resume my spot.
“Oh, hey!” I say, relieved to see her. “Is the bar backed up? What took you so long?”
“How’s the bowling going, Blair?” she asks, ignoring my question as she plops down beside me. Her thigh touches mine even though there’s enough space to avoid it.
“Pretty good, I think.” I point at the TV screen hovering from the ceiling. My name is dead last.
She punches me in the shoulder playfully, eyes a little glossy. “What the heck? Are you some sort of secret phenom or something?”
“Yeah,” I say, deadpan. “Professional bowler was the job I was supposed to have instead of this one.”
