Pieces of Summer

“Aren’t you on the clock?” he asks her as he starts searching for a ball. Yeah…I need one of those too.

Getting up, I try to silence him with my eyes. He ignores my eyes.

“Lisa is the assistant manager and has the counter covered. My shift is almost up.”

She smiles mockingly at him while I grab a ball that doesn’t feel like it’s going to pull my arm out of socket when I throw it. Chase mutters something too low for me to hear over the music as he starts changing into the bowling shoes.

Whit sits behind the control screen and puts in my name and Chase’s name.

“You can play with us,” I tell her, which earns me a scowl from Chase.

“I’d rather watch this big show down.”

Chase rolls his eyes and stands to take his turn since she put him in first. I try not to stare at him, or the way his muscles flex, when he lines up his shot. I also try not to stare at his ass in those jeans…

The ball pounding the lane jars me out of my trance, and I smother my laughter when it crashes into… one pin. Chase flips off the lane like it somehow wronged him, and he goes to wait for his ball to pop up again. As soon as it emerges, he starts the cycle all over again. As do I—muscles, ass, drool… Jump when ball hits.

This time, he takes out two more, and he turns around and shakes his head.

“Wow. That was… terrible,” I say with a smug grin. “Lost your touch?”

“Let’s see you do better, princess. Sounds like you’re rustier than I am if you really haven’t played since we were kids.”

He smirks at me and I stand up, acting like I’m a badass. Grabbing my ball, I line up my shot, pull my arm back, and hear someone burst out laughing as I jerk forward an empty hand… Yep. The ball went flying behind me.

I turn around to see Chase doubled over, covering his face with his hands as his body shakes with laughter. Whit is leaned back and howling with laughter, and I flip them both off before grabbing my ball back up from the floor.

This time, I manage to roll the ball down the… gutter. Sheesh. And it’s a slow roll too, so it takes the longest roll of shame in history.

Ignoring the guffaws behind me, I try to shake out my arm and my nerves. I used to be good at this. Admittedly, a lot has happened to me since the last time I bowled. A brain injury tends to do that. I’ve forgotten how to actually line up a shot correctly.

Basic learning skills don’t apply to someone like me, and my brain doesn’t process all motor functions the way it used to. You know the saying about it being like riding a bike? I can’t remember how to ride a bike.

Blowing out a breath, I throw the ball, and it lands in the gutter once again. At least it zooms down that baby this time.

“That was so much better than I was hoping,” Chase says, still laughing so hard that he’s holding his stomach.

I glare at him, but I’m smiling when I do it, so it has no effect.

When he walks by me, he slaps me on the ass, and I grimace. Whit arches an eyebrow, but doesn’t react any other way than that.

By the eighth frame, Chase is rolling strikes and my ball is still humping the gutter. I’m starting to realize that bowling may not be in the cards for me anymore. Not that I mind. It’s still fun to watch Chase laughing as I suck. Suck at bowling that is.

“What happened to you?” he asks jokingly, laughing when my ball actually hops—yes, it freaking hops—into the gutter on the ninth frame. Nine frames and I have a big fat goose egg on the scoreboard.

Bright side? The numbered frames don’t bother me… Well, at least not unless we don’t play all ten frames. I’d probably have an issue with stopping before finishing. Also, my mind doesn’t take issue with the pins not all falling over, since they get knocked over by the arm before resetting a new frame.

If I told him what happened to me, the life would be sucked out of this room in no time. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to have that conversation. It’s nice having someone look at me the way he does… as though I’m not broken. Just like Whit does, even though she sees me as fragile.

I like people treating me like the old Mika instead of the damaged one.

“Next game, I will kick your ass. Watch this comeback,” I quip, loving the way he winks at me.

He, of course, goes on to bowl three strikes on his tenth frame, and he flexes like he used to back before he had any muscle at all on his arms. I laugh lightly while shaking my head, and I get up to take my turn.

Desperate to hit something other than the gutter, I granny roll that bad boy. Yes… I pull it between my legs and roll it forward while staying bent over. When it crashes into the pins and knocks seven over, I squeal like I just bowled a perfect three-hundred.

Turning around, I launch myself into Chase’s arms, and he laughs while hugging me against him. My lips brush his cheek, and his laughter slowly fades as his grip on me tightens, holding me closer. My arms wrap around his neck and stay that way as I rest my head against the crook of his neck.