“I wanted us to have some privacy,” Jasper says, “so I booked out the whole place.”
“You…?” I glance around again. This place is seriously fancy––like next-level-rich fancy. “But that must have cost a fortune.”
“It’s fine.”
Our drinks arrive and with them our first course. I stare down at the small plate with an indistinguishable mound of ingredients in the center; orange balls and brown specks, tiny herbs, and a creamy-looking sauce oozing outward. I’m pretty sure the food is staring back at me.
“Enjoy,” Jasper says, taking up his cutlery and diving in.
I prod at the mound with my fork. “It looks…great.”
Tentatively, I fork a little of the mound into my mouth and I can’t believe the explosion of flavor that erupts on my palate. “Whoa.”
“Pretty good right?” Jasper asks.
“I’ve never tasted anything like it, it’s so small but so intense.”
What follows is a series of fine-dining courses, each small and delicate, a strange medley of ingredients, some I’ve never heard of, compiled into artlike dishes, all of them completely tasty. It turns out I actually enjoy fancy-person food. And I suppose I don’t feel so conspicuous in my hoodie and jeans considering we’re the only diners in the entire restaurant, but there’s also something a little off. For whatever reason, conversation just isn’t flowing the way I thought it would. Maybe it’s the sound of my cutlery scraping on the plate, the fact we can hear the chefs in the kitchen, every movement of the waitstaff. Maybe being the only customers is actually more conspicuous than if we were surrounded by other people.
“Is everything okay?” Jasper asks over our entrées. Mine is duck served in a hot pot with sauce and vegetables, Jasper’s is some sort of vegetable parfait.
“Mmm, yeh everything is great.”
Jasper eyes me quizzically. He drops his cutlery. “You hate it.”
“No! No, it’s not that. Everything is amazing. This food is insane. It’s just…”
“What is it?”
“It’s just, everything is so amazing and fancy, it’s just a little hard to, I dunno, relax.”
Jasper wipes the corner of his mouth on his napkin then drops it on the table next to his dish. He looks around, perhaps taking in the expensive light fixtures, the grand view, the waitstaff who outnumber their customers. “It’s too much, isn’t it?”
“Maybe a little. Not that I don’t appreciate the effort and, you know, the cost. I just thought seeing as we won’t get to hang out for a while maybe we could do something a little more fun.”
“Fun?” He raises a brow.
“Yeah, fun. Heard of it?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Strike!”
The pins tumble every which way and I pump my fist, turning to find Jasper staring open-mouthed.
“What? I have secret talents, okay?”
“I wouldn’t have agreed to bowling if I knew I was gonna get sharked.”
I shrug, pleased to have the upper hand for once. “Your turn.”
We’re halfway through our first game and my score is already nearing a hundred while Jasper has only just surpassed fifty. His first few turns he kept rolling gutter balls, much to my surprise. He stands over the balls, a stern expression on his face, as he takes his time choosing the perfect one. In his fancy outfit he looks delightfully out of place, like a prince descending to mingle with the commoners.
The bowling alley is wonderfully busy. Kids and families are everywhere, people on dates are laughing and cheering when they score big. Cheesy old-school pop music is blaring from the sound system, and the thud of balls and the clatter of falling pins is so loud we almost need to shout to be heard over it all.
Finally, Jasper chooses a ball, which he slides his fingers into, then takes a moment to line up the shot. He hurls it down the lane and I jump as it connects with the pins, wincing as it knocks over all but two.
“Ooh, a seven-ten split,” I say. “Bad luck.”
