Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 258(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 258(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 172(@300wpm)
I raise my eyebrow. “Your bad? That’s the best you can do after all this time?”
The twins are too busy arguing about how to score the game we’re about to play to overhear our conversation. I walk away from them, closing the distance with Kat. She stops in front of me, her eyes red and somewhat puffy.
I inspect her face, wondering is she’s sick or upset, or maybe a little bit of both. “Were you crying?”
She shakes her head. “No, I told you don’t feel good. I ate bad fish last night. My stomach didn’t like the sea bass, I guess.”
I reach for her hand and she pulls away.
“What the fuck, Kat? You’re killing me right now. What is going on with you?”
“Nothing. Can we talk about it later?”
After I find shoes and a ball that fits my fingertips, Kat is paired with me, and the game begins. The twins make us drink for every missed shot. Even in college, they could turn anything into a drinking game. Apparently, bowling is no different.
I haven’t bowled in years. My aim is a little rusty. Theo heckles me for sucking so bad. Travis throws a towel on the lane after my last shot, and I shake my head at his theatrics. I’m not throwing in the towel, no matter how bad I’m playing. Under normal circumstances, I would probably be kicking their asses. But after seeing the dejected look on Kat’s face, I feel sick to my stomach. Whatever she wants to tell me later haunts me, making it impossible to relax. And no amount of beer seems to help.
Theo spins around after another strike and slides across the lane in his bowling shoes. He reminds me of Tom Cruise from the movie Risky Business when he glides across the floor in a dress shirt.
“Your turn, Kit-Kat,” Theo shouts.
“I can hear you perfectly fine without all the yelling,” Kat says as she gets up from her chair.
She lifts her ball from the rack and lines up with the pins. Tucking in her elbows, she has perfect form as she travels up the lane, bringing her arm back to throw the ball. It sails off her fingertips, spinning in perfect rotation toward the head pin. But before the ball makes contact, it turns to the left of the head pin, leaving three pins behind.
“You’re not gonna beat us with shots like that,” Travis says when Kat turns around.
She’s supposed to drink for not getting a strike. Instead, Travis snd Theo each pound the rest of their beers in a few gulps and slam the icy mugs down on the table. Travis stands as Kat walks past him and burps in her ear.
She frowns. “Thanks, idiot.”
“C’mon, Kit-Kat.” Travis hooks his arm around her back and hugs her. “Stop being such a boner and have some fun. You’ve been a total tool all summer.”
Theo sneaks up behind Kat and squeezes the life out of her.
“C’mon, Theo. I told you my stomach hurts. Stop being annoying.” She shakes him off until he lets her go. “Can we play without you guys driving me crazy?”
“You’re just mad because we’re winning,” Travis shoots back.
Kat snorts. “We’re letting you win.”
Theo blows out a puff of air, spitting some of his beer in the process. “Bullshit. We’re beating you guys by twelve points fair and square.”
“We can make that up by the end of the game no problem,” I challenge.
“It’s called drunk bowling for a reason.” Travis points his finger at me. “Kat is cheating. She’s only drank every other time.”
“We don’t need to be sober to beat you two.”
“Whatever.” Theo chugs another beer. “Your turn, bro,” he says to Travis.
After we play six games of drunk bowling with the twins, I have enough liquid courage to talk to Kat.
“You wanna head upstairs?” I say into Kat’s ear.
“Nah, I’m good here. You can go up if you’re tired.”
“Are we gonna talk tonight?”
She blows out a deep breath. “How about after the Draft? That will give us some of the closure we need.”
Confused, I narrow my eyes at her. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“It has to do with what I decided last night. You’ll see. We’ve waited this long. One more night won’t kill us.”
She’s being so damn cryptic I need a decoder ring to decipher her mood swings. Needing to get drunk now more than ever, I gulp down another beer and then another. The NHL Draft is tomorrow. Somehow, even with that in my sights, I still can’t think of anything other than Kat. More beer seems like a good enough distraction.
“The Philadelphia Flyers select defenseman Dean Crawford.”
Kat shakes my arm. “You did it, Dean! Oh, my God.” She throws her arms around my neck, and her sweet scent fills my nostrils. “You’re going back to Philly.”
Which means we have no shot of ever being together.