I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in front of a woman I’ve already fucked. Not even running into her in DC or seeing her at Isla’s surprise party compares to tonight.
My stomach is in so many knots that I’m not able to eat before our date, and my iced coffee is sitting half-full, condensation pooling on my counter. I pour it down the sink and try to calm myself down. I don’t know why I am so nervous. It isn’t like this is my first date. But it is my first date with Cari, and knowing how badly I’d fucked it up in the past hangs over my head. I leave my apartment with plenty of time to grab flowers from the bodega around the corner and get to her place by six. I text her that I’m here, and wait for her to come down. It ends up being a little counterproductive since she has to go back up once she sees the flowers. But I didn’t want her to think I was looking for a reason to go upstairs.
It’s late February, so I am freezing my ass off, but it was worth it.
“Ready?” I look at Cari, and she’s wearing a black belted coat, a green hat, and matching gloves.
“Yes, subway?” she asks, and I nod.
We make small talk, bringing up the snow and how it hasn’t been too bad yet this year. Real New Yorkers knew that winter might be over in the next few weeks, or it could be more horrible snowstorms until mid-April. You never know what you’re getting, and neither of us trusts the groundhog’s predictions.
I wish I weren’t so nervous, but it’s my own fault getting in my head about this going well. It’s sort of like this is my one last shot to make this work. No pressure, though.
“This place looks so cool,” Cari says as we make it inside the bowling alley.
I’d stumbled upon it a few times while walking the neighborhood, thinking it might be a cool place for a photoshoot. On the outside, you might miss it, just a small sign that says ‘Split Happens’ on the awning above the window. But inside, the whole place looks like a vintage bowling alley. With all the old machines and neon colors.
There’s a huge lit neon sign that says ‘BOWL’ and all the lanes are wooden with bright colored accents. There’s a bar at one end, and an arcade at the other. I can see it has Pac-Man which is a win in my book.
“It’s my first time actually bowling here. I’ve always thought it would be a cool place to shoot.”
“Oh, my goodness! I was just thinking this place would be so fun for Ellie’s designs, but doing a video campaign?! It would be so cool. Remind me to ask for the owner’s number,” Cari says as she takes a few pictures on her iPhone. It’s nice talking to someone who understands how my creative side works.
We grab a pair of bowling shoes, and I pay for three games from a goth chick who is doodling in a sketch book. We get to lane number eight and Cari takes her jacket off, draping it over one of the chairs. She bends over and I check out her ass, the dark wash jeans stretching over her backside, and I internally groan. An image of her naked ass sitting over my face appearsinstinctively. That isn’t what I want to be thinking about right now. I am trying to be good, but then she turns around, and she’s wearing this green crop top that shows off her stomach and tits. Is she teasing me on purpose? No, this was how Cari always dressed. It just never killed me before because I was able to touch her whenever I wanted.
“You good?” Cari asks, sitting down to put on her bowling shoes. She glances up at me, and I can see down her shirt, the white lace of her bra peeking out.
“Yup.” I blush.
This is the opposite of what I wanted. I need to shut this thought pattern down real quick; it isn’t my fault, I haven’t been laid in months. I want to see if there is something more than sex with Cari; it isn’t my fault she is so fucking hot.
I take off my coat and sit down to put on my shoes as Cari types our names into the ancient screen.
“Thank goodness our names are short.” Cari smiles.
“Aspen usually is ‘Ass,’ since her name never fits.” I laugh.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been bowling with River.” Cari frowns.
“How is that possible? You’ve been friends almost as long as you’ve been alive.”
“I know. I’m going to drag her bowling this week. I can’t have you and Aspen out friending us,” Cari jokes.
“Get out of here.” I laugh. Cari picks up a pink bowling ball and walks up to the line, and tosses her ball a little too hard, gathering the attention of those in the lanes next to us.
“Is it possible you haven’t bowled in your life?” I ask quietly.
Cari opens her mouth to protest, “Okay, fine, I’ve never been bowling. I didn’t think it would make that loud a sound.”
“It’s not supposed to,” I tease. “Can I help?”
“Is this some ploy to touch me?” She purses her lips and raises an eyebrow.
“No, it’s an added bonus. But you can’t bowl like that, you’re going to break the bowling ball.”
Cari’s the one to touch me first, playfully shoving my shoulder. “That’s not possible!”
“Uh, yes it is.” I pick up the ball she used, back from the gutter.
