Page 22 of Lucky
“It is,” she says, then smirks.“Although my brother once ate a whole tub of frosting and puked in my shoes, so…”
“Sibling love,” I say solemnly.“Unmatched.”
She giggles and I catch myself watching her again.She’s funny and bright and sharp as hell.And yeah, I want to go out on another date with her.
But I don’t say that.Not yet.
I drive us to the bowling alley, and we trade our shoes for hideous lace-up rentals.Thankfully, the place is kind of dead, but then again, it is a Thursday night.A few people recognize me by the way they whisper when we walk by, but they keep their distance.I’m grateful for that because I want to be an average dude with Winnie tonight and there’s nothing that dispels normalcy quicker than having fans rush you for autographs and pictures.
I teach her how to hold the tiny candlepin ball, but she insists on “granny bowling.”
“That form won’t do you any favors,” I explain.
She releases the ball with a two-handed shove between her legs and manages a strike.
My jaw drops.
“Now you’re just showing off,” I tell her as she pumps her fists like she’s won Olympic gold.
“I peaked,” she says solemnly.“It’s all downhill from here.”
We bowl three full games.She wins two, I win one, and my ego is only a little bruised.
By the time we’re back in the Tahoe and headed for her house, I know without a doubt this was one of the best dates I’ve ever been on.
Granted, most of my dates start with the sole intention of ending up in the woman’s bed, but none of them compare to tonight.
I don’t know that I’ve laughed as hard as I have with her.She’s lightning fast on her snarky responses and her humor is dry as a bone, which is just my type, but she’s also wicked smart.I kept looking for this “average” vibe she thinks she has going, but by the end of the night, I am only more attracted to her.
The drive to her house is nonstop conversation.I pull up in front and she hops out, meeting me at the side.Without asking, I take her hand and tuck it into the crook of my arm, same position as when we walked out.
She chuckles and gives me an affectionate squeeze.
Once on her porch, she pulls her phone from her purse and asks, “Ready to TikTok?”
I hold out my arms and give her a sly grin.“When am I not ready to TikTok?”
Winnie balances her phone against a small plant stand on the porch rail.The light by the door casts a soft glow as she adjusts the angle.“Okay.One take.No filters.Just vibes.”
“Should we rehearse?”I ask, loitering at the top of the steps.
She snorts.“Guys got jokes.You’re the king of spontaneity.I expect you to show it.”
I clap, straighten and move close to her side.“Let’s do this.”
Winnie hits record and we both stare into the camera.Then she turns to me and s, “You really drove a black, tricked-out Tahoe and tried to convince me you’re average.”
I hold up a finger.“It’s not a Ferrari.Or a Lambo.By professional athlete standards, I’m practically a broke substitute teacher.”
She makes a face.“You wore designer sneakers and opened my door like it was a Met Gala arrival.”
“But I brought car snacks,” I shoot back.“That’s commitment.”
Winnie grins, glancing at the camera.“For the record, this is date number one in my Find One Decent Guy challenge.”
“Hi.”I wave.“I’m the not-so-average curveball, but I knocked it out of the park.”
She squints at me.“Still undecided on whether you count.”
