"Okay, wait," Asher says when I pick up the ball for my fourth turn. "Let me help you."
"I don't need help."
He laughs and comes up behind me, his hands settling on my hips. “Jules. Let me help. Here. You're standing wrong."
"I'm standing wrong?"
"Yes. You need to—" He adjusts my stance, his chest pressed against my back. "There. Now when you release, follow through. Like this."
He guides my arm through the motion, and I'm suddenly very aware of how close he is. How warm his hands are. How good he smells. "Got it?" he murmurs near my ear.
"Uh-huh."
"Then show me."
I take a breath and release the ball. It rolls down the lane and knocks down six pins. "Yes!" I spin around and throw my arms around his neck. "Did you see that?"
He's laughing, his arms wrapping around my waist. "I saw. You're a natural."
"I had a good teacher."
"Damn right you did."
We stay like that for a moment, just smiling at each other. Then someone from the lane next to us yells, "Uh oh, someone's about to need to get a room!" and we both laugh and pull apart.
By the end of the game, Asher has won by a landslide, but I don't care. We're both giddy and breathless from laughing.
"Okay," I admit as we return our shoes. "This was a good idea."
"Told you."
"Don't get cocky."
"Sorry. Too late for that."
We grab burgers and fries from a diner down the street and sit in a corner booth, our knees touching under the table. Asher steals fries from my plate even though he has his own. Having a conversation with him is easy and doesn’t have weird starts and stops.
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. His thumb traces circles on the back of my knuckles—once, slowly. "You know what I like about you?"
"What?" My heart has suddenly relocated somewhere near my throat.
"You're honest. You don't pretend. Most people I meet are..." He pauses, searching for the word. "Constructed. They're performing. But you're just you. And that's rare."
I don't know what to say. So I just squeeze his hand.
"Also," he adds, smiling, "you're terrible at bowling, which is endearing."
I laugh. "Ah, that’s the romantic line I was waiting for. So good, I'm in full swoon now. Catch me before I slide to the floor with a case of the vapors."
He throws back his head and laughs. "There's more where that came from."
When he drives me home, he walks me to my door like he always does. But this time, when he kisses me goodnight, it feels different. Deeper. More certain.
"I had fun tonight," I say when we finally pull apart.
"Me too."
"Even though I'm terrible at bowling?"
