She fixes her gaze on mine as she smiles shyly. Well, maybe not shyly. She really doesn’t seem all that shy. Flirtatiously is probably a better word. I’m just not used to using those descriptions in relation to myself.
“That is one seriously ugly shirt. Then again, if anyone can pull it off, it’s you.” She flips her blond hair over her shoulder the way I’ve seen Tinsley do countless times for Mac Turtledove, and all I can do is sit there and gulp as I try not to stare at her tiny grass skirt and coconut shells.
“Are you leaving already?” one of the brunettes asks. She’s wearing an outfit that’s pretty much an exact replica of the blond girl’s, only her grass skirt is shorter.
“That party’s lame.” Dougall’s tone is so disdainful it makes me feel bad. I mean, we never actually made it inside, so there’s no way to be sure. “I wouldn’t risk it if I were you.”
The brunette checks with her friends before returning to us. “Do you know of any better ones?” Her gaze settles on mine.
“There’s always a better party.” Dougall grins. “And if there isn’t, we’ll start one—right, bro?” He bumps his fist against my shoulder a little harder than necessary, then gives me a look that says our future happiness pretty much depends on my going along.
I take a deep inhale and meet her gaze just like Josh Frost would, only better, because in this world Josh Frost doesn’t exist. I’ve taken his place. “Plenty of room.”
I prop the door open and slide across the seat, watching as they all pile in. Figuring that since there are no consequences in dreams, I might as well play along and see where this leads.
PINHEAD
At my suggestion, we end up at a bowling alley, and not a single person complains.
It’s not even one of those cool, modern, loud-music-and-black-lights rock ’n’ bowl kind of places either. It’s a normal, standard-issue bowling alley, which is just how I like it. Though the surprising thing is everyone else pretends to like it too.
Then again, why wouldn’t they? It’s like Dougall said: no one says no to the Dashing Nick Dashaway.
All I have to do is declare bowling cool, and it is.
Sparks escorts us inside, and it’s a good thing too, because the second all the other bowlers see me, his bodyguard skills are the only thing that keeps me from being trampled to death. Luckily, it’s not long before the manager ushers us into his office for safekeeping while he clears the crowd and closes the place to the public. Exactly the kind of perfect solution that never would’ve occurred to me, even though it seems really obvious once it’s done. I mean, while it’s nice having fans and all, there’s really no point in being famous if you don’t take advantage of the kinds of perks that allow for a little privacy and peace.
When I offer to pay for the inconvenience, he’s quick to brush it away. “Just take a pic with me and post it on Twitter,” he says. “And make sure to hashtag the name of the bowling alley. That’s all the compensation I need.” Then he throws an arm around me, and we each break into a grin as Dougall takes the pic. It’s seriously that easy. He even offers the girls a bunch of logo T-shirts to wear in case they get cold bowling in coconut shells and grass skirts. Though while they’re all quick to take one, not a single one of them changes.
After we swap our regular shoes for bowling shoes and I help everyone choose a ball, we divvy up into two teams of three, and Blonde #1 volunteers to go first. (I know it probably sounds bad to call her that, but I’ve already forgotten their names, and I’m too embarrassed to ask.) She cradles the ball at the center of her chest (a typical amateur move) and awkwardly trots toward the foul line with her fingers practically death-gripping the ball. By the time she releases it, her swing is so off, the ball makes the world’s slowest journey down the lane. A total creeper if I’ve ever seen one.
I have to admit, it’s kind of funny to watch. Especially the way her face goes all sad and droopy when the ball flops into the gutter well before it gets anywhere near the pins. I mean, she looks like she’s truly surprised, like she actually expected an entirely different outcome. Which only makes it funnier.
Dougall immediately swoops in to hug her. A move that’s meant to seem like a show of support, even though he’s clearly taking advantage of the moment to hug a pretty girl.
At first I’m annoyed by the way he’s always scheming to get what he wants, but when she pushes Dougall away and comes at me with arms spread wide, saying, “Hey, Nick—can I get a hug from you too?” well, it makes me sad that Dougall always has to angle for the things that come so easily to me.