Chapter 8 Chapter 8 Bowling Date
I spent most of the day at the pool with Tish and Erika. The weather’s still warm enough, but not for long—soon it’ll be too cold for this. Tish checked in with me about Matt, and I told her we’re good. No weirdness. She admitted she doesn’t even like him that much—she just likes the attention.
Typical.
Later, Tish’s brother brought his girlfriend over to meet their mom—and, of course, Tish. She’s his favorite person in the world, and it’s honestly adorable.
His girlfriend, Wendy, is a hairdresser, and she offered to dye Tish’s hair red. We sat around talking while she worked, foils covering Tish’s head like she was wrapped in aluminum wings. Then Wendy looked over at me.
“I’ve got some leftover,” she said. “Want me to do your hair? I can mix it with shampoo—it’ll probably come out kind of pink. Is your hair naturally this light?”
“No,” I said. “I’ve been using Sun-In.” I hesitated. “Pink, huh? I don’t know…”
Tish’s brother, JJ, walked in right then and caught the tail end of it.
“Pink?” he said. “Pink would look amazing with your blue eyes.”
Wendy shot him a death glare.
JJ raised his hands, grinning. “She’s like my little sister, don’t look at me like that, Wendy!”
He laughed his way out of the room before she could smack him.
Wendy just waved me over. “Sit.”
So I did.
Next thing I know, I’m foiled up too, sitting in Tish’s bright yellow room while Wendy rinses out her hair. I check my phone.
Vince called three times last night. Left messages every time.
Then Nick called.
Of course I answered him—he laughed his ass off asking if I was mad at Vince.
“Your turn, doll,” Wendy says, snapping me out of it.
Matt texted, offering to pick me up. I told him I’d meet everyone there. I like driving myself—I don’t depend on anyone for a ride. Plus, I’m bringing Tish and Erika.
He agreed, but not happily.
I wasn’t even planning on bowling. I threw on a short, strapless baby-blue sundress, my denim jacket, and dark blue Chucks. I added some loose waves to my hair.
The pink?
It looks fucking amazing.
JJ was right.
I feel good. Like really good. I already decided no one is ruining my mood tonight.
We walk into the bowling alley at The Orleans and head toward the lane Colt texted us.
Tish walks ahead, Erika and I trailing behind. Colt’s up bowling, everyone else watching him. I spot Matt, Nick, Vince, and Mike. Andreas and Dustin are at the lane next to them with their girlfriends—Alison and Jennifer. They seem nice enough.
“Bitch, you look fucking hot!” Gemma shouts from behind us.
I turn just in time for her to crash into me with a hug.
“You are so welcome,” she whispers. “They all just turned around. Wait till I spin you—Vince is going to eat his heart out.”
“You like it?” I ask, laughing. “I’m still getting used to it. JJ’s girlfriend did it after Tish.”
She grabs my shoulders and turns me.
Right on cue—Vince’s jaw drops.
Matt, on the other hand, is grinning as he walks toward us.
“It’s the right shade of pink,” Gemma says, stepping aside so he can hug me.
Matt wraps me up, kisses my cheek, then grabs my hand and pulls me toward the group. Everyone’s staring like they’ve never seen me before.
“JJ was right,” Tish says. “Elle looks hotter than before. He asked for your number!”
“Ha-ha,” I laugh. “Wendy would kill him. And he’s twenty-five—that’s way too old for me.”
I glance at Vince when I say it.
Gemma’s arm is still around me, laughing. Matt is suddenly all over me—asking questions, holding my hand, acting like we’re something.
And it’s pissing Vince off.
Which, I’ll admit… I enjoy.
On my way back from the bathroom, someone grabs my hand and yanks me into the locker area.
Of course.
Vincent.
He drags me to the far end, tucked behind a row of lockers, out of sight.
“You didn’t answer your phone,” he snaps. “You didn’t call me back. You show up here—with Matt—looking like…” he gestures at me, frustrated.
I stay quiet.
“Are you mad about Ashley? She’s my girlfriend—I told you that.” He searches my face. “Do you want me to break it off with her? I wasn’t too old for you twice, but now I am? God damn it, Elle—say something!”
Still nothing.
I reach out slowly, slipping my hand into the waistband of his jeans. My other hand has been resting on his abs this whole time—he’s too worked up to even notice.
I look him dead in the eyes as my fingers trace the outline of him.
He falters.
“What do you want from me?” he asks, breath catching.
“You know what I want.”
I unbutton him, unzip, slide my hand inside.
He jerks slightly.
“You are a brat,” he mutters—but he lifts me anyway, pinning me against the lockers.
My dress rides up, bunching at my waist. The top slips down.
His mouth crashes into mine.
He holds me up with one hand, the other cupping my face. His kiss is rough, hungry—like he’s been holding back for way too long.
He lowers me onto him.
I bite my hand to keep quiet as he moves, bouncing me harder, faster.
“Fuck… you feel so good,” he groans. “I want to stay inside you forever.”
“Shhh,” I whisper.
“I love your pink hair,” he mutters, his hand tangling in it. “Wait—fuck—I feel you—”
The pressure builds fast.
Too fast.
I meet his eyes.
“Fuck,” I breathe as I let go.
His lips crash into mine again as he follows right after, both of us trying to stay quiet, trying—and failing.
We’re both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together.
“I love you,” he says, voice rough, trying to catch his breath.
My breath catches.
For a split second, everything in me freezes.
He said it so easily. Like it wasn’t an accident. Like it had been sitting on his tongue, waiting for the right moment to come out.
I pull back just enough to look at him.
“You mean that?” I ask quietly, searching his face.
Vincent doesn’t hesitate.
“Yeah,” he says, voice low but steady. “I meant it.”
No backtracking. No excuses.
My chest tightens in a way I don’t understand.
I slide off him slowly, fixing my dress, smoothing it down like I need something to do with my hands. My fingers tremble a little.
“You’re insane,” I say, trying to laugh it off.
“Probably,” he mutters, eyes still locked on me. “But I don’t say shit I don’t mean.”
That makes it worse.
“This… whatever this is,” he continues, running a hand through his hair, “it’s not simple, Elle.”
Silence settles between us, heavier now—but not empty.
Out in the alley, I can hear laughter, bowling pins crashing, music bleeding through the walls. The world going on.
Vincent steps closer again, like he can’t help it, like something keeps pulling him back to me.
“Go back out there,” he says quietly. “Before someone notices.”
A faint smirk tugs at his lips.