Bowling is definitely not my thing, but I didn’t think I’d be this bad.
“It’s okay, Madeleine! We can still catch the boys,” Judith says cheerfully. As depressed as I am, I laugh at the notion of calling the geezers across from us “boys”.
I turn to head back to my seat and notice Adam watching me. He’s been doing it for the last thirty minutes, and each time I feel his attention on me, I look up and we do the awkward-eye-contact, look-away-quick thing. This time I don’t give in to the urge to look his way. There’s a chance he still has some semblance of respect for me, but after that third gutter ball, who knows.
I’ve barely reached my seat when loud salsa music starts to filter out of the speakers overhead. One of the coordinators of the singles event grabs the mic and after a sharp screech of microphone feedback announces, “It’s time to switch things up!”
Then, before my eyes, my little group of four is scrambled. One of the coordinators grabs Allen and Mitch and replaces them with two new men, one of whom makes Judith blush like a schoolgirl. The other is actually within my age range, and better yet, I don’t recognize him. He’s wearing worn Wrangler jeans and a white button-down with pearl snaps. He’s a little more cowboy-esque than I usually go for, but after my earlier prospects, he might as well be an oasis in the middle of the desert.
He introduces himself as Dan and doesn’t seem to be much of a talker, but he does bring me a fresh beer from the concession stand, so that’s a win.
“Have you lived in Hamilton long?” I ask, trying to strike up conversation while Judith takes her turn. Dan and I are sitting beside each other and when his thigh brushes mine, I don’t move away.
He swallows his sip of beer and shakes his head. “Nah, just moved here last year. I work over at Longhorn Ranch.”
My interest in piqued. “What do you do over there?”
He shrugs and glances down, like he’s not used to being asked direct questions like that. “Ranch hand, nothing fancy. I tend to the horses and help out where they need me.”
It makes sense. His chin is sporting a couple days’ worth of stubble, and his skin has a healthy glow from being outdoors. I can see it now: him taming wild mustangs with patience and masculinity. I bet he knows how to use a lasso for other, more nefarious reasons too. I’m imagining just that when he reaches forward, grabs an empty cup, and spits black crud into it. Chewing tobacco. I try not to cringe as my dream of riding him off into the sunset is shattered. I have very few deal breakers, but mouth cancer is definitely one of them.
When he’s done, he sets the empty cup back down and turns to me, and then I notice the lump in his mouth where he’s left a bit more of the disgusting substance. It’s not my thing, especially when he leans closer to ask what I do for a living and I catch the scent on his breath. Call me crazy, but I prefer minty fresh to stale tobacco.
“Oh, um, I’m a real estate agent,” I mutter, right before I hop up to take my turn again.
I don’t even bother lining up my feet before letting the ball loose and turning back for my seat. I know the ball is going to end up in the gutter anyway, but then I hear the telltale sound of bowling pins getting knocked down and I whip around. I hit them! Not all—I’m not suddenly an Olympic bowler—but I’ve knocked down four of the pins. FOUR.
Judith is jumping up and down with glee. “You did it! You did it, Madeleine!”
I chance a glance over at Adam to see if he’s witnessed my athletic prowess. He hasn’t, because Tori is regaling him with a story and he seems to have turned his attention solely to her. It takes the wind right out of my sails. Suddenly four pins seem just as bad as zero pins.
“You get one more turn to knock down the rest,” Judith says as I walk past my seat and continue on.
I tell her to take my turn for me and then I head for the bathroom.
I just need a little break, five seconds to stare at my reflection in the hazy bathroom mirror and assess where my life took such a sharp turn for the worse. I only manage three seconds of my existential crisis before Daisy pushes the door open and joins me.
“I hope you and Lucas are happy,” I say, crossing my arms and meeting her gaze in the mirror.
“About what?”
“Inviting Adam and Tori. Why is he here anyway?”
She steps up and props her hip on the sink beside mine. “Lucas wanted to include him. I think they’re friends or something now.”
“So as his friend, he decided to set him up with Tori?”
She frowns and narrows her eyes, doing her best to pry into my brain. I sigh and turn away, pretending to fix my makeup in the mirror.
“We didn’t want him to feel like the third wheel, so it made sense to invite her.”
“But not me?”
“I tried to invite you, but you shut me down before I could even finish telling you the plan.”
That part I can’t argue with.
“Would you have wanted to be invited?” she asks, poking me in the side.
I snort. “Obviously! Look at how dismal this singles night is. I’d rather be hanging out with you guys than trying to avoid getting caught in that cowboy’s tobacco breath.”
“Ohh, that sucks. He seemed like such a good prospect.”
“He was, right up until he spit a bunch of dip into a cup right in front of me.”
“All right, well, I forbid you from going back. C’mon, come have fun with us. I don’t even really like Tori, and Lucas can barely tolerate her outside the office. I think we’re both regretting asking her to tag along.”
“What about Adam?”
“Huh?”
“Is he annoyed with Tori?”
“I can’t tell. They seem to be talking a lot.”
“Awesome.”
“You’re into him, aren’t you?”
Her question pisses me off, so I don’t bother replying. Instead, I push past her and head out of the bathroom, on a mission to do the one thing I’ve wanted to do all night. Adam is sitting at their lane, checking his phone while Tori takes her turn. I don’t pass go. I don’t collect 200 dollars. I march right up and don’t stop until I’m only a few inches away from him. He’s leaning forward with his elbows on his legs, and when he locks his phone and glances up at me, it suddenly feels like I’m too close. I’m almost standing between his knees, but if I back up, I’ll look like a coward. He leans back in his chair, makes no move to shift his legs, and then glances up at me with a self-assured smile.
“Why haven’t you returned my calls?” I ask, my arms crossed as aggressively as possible. “I left you a bunch of voicemails.”
“I called you back.”
I roll my eyes. “Sure you did.”
“I called you this afternoon and left a message on your work phone.”
I can’t verify if that’s true or not; I was showing Mr. Boggs a few houses.
“Right, well, I have no clue if you did leave a message or what you might have said, but here’s the deal, Adam: you’re going to buy a house from me.”
“That was the deal.”