Through the Lens (Click Duet 1)

In all his my-best-friends-big-brother glory, he salutes me with his middle finger. Asshole. And so immature. An outsider would peg him as the youngest out of all of us.

I loop my arm in Shelly’s and we skip into the bowling alley, ignoring the dipshit standing outside. We head over to the check-in counter, pay for shoes and receive our lane number. I shoot a text to Erin and Jonas, letting them know Shelly and I are inside and which lane number we are at.

Shoes laced up, Shelly and I go in search of the perfect bowling ball. When we return to the lane, Jonas is there and swapping his steel-toe boots for the snappy red and blue bowling shoes. He notices us step into the bowling circle and lifts his head up, a megawatt smile spreading his lips. I have missed his face this week.

“Hey, ladies. What time does galactic bowling begin?”

I wrap my arms around him, hugging him as hard as I normally do. “In about fifteen minutes.”

Just as I release him of the hug, I hear footsteps thunder behind me. I turn to see Micah and Gavin, and before I can greet Gavin, I stop myself. The relaxed and soothing demeanor Gavin has displayed toward me all week is nowhere to be seen. Instead, it has been replaced with ego and rage and maybe a hint of jealousy.

He needs to chill the fuck out.

“Gavin,” I sing,

“this is Jonas. Jonas, this is Gavin.”

I wait for one of them to be the bigger man and offer their hand to shake. An eternity passes before Jonas rises from the plastic bucket-style seat and offers his hand. How did I know he would be the one to extend the olive branch? Maybe because he and I don’t share the same sort of history Gavin and I do.

“Hey, man. Nice to meet you. Cora’s told me a little about you.”

Gavin shakes his hand, his eyes sizing up Jonas in the process. “Has she now? And what, pray tell, has she told you about me?” His voice laden with sarcasm and authority and ownership.

For fuck’s sake. Put your dick away, Gavin. This is not the time or place.

“Just that you guys dated in high school and she hasn’t seen you in years. Until this week, of course. She said the shoot has been great, though.” Jonas’s tone is calm and collected. But his choice of words is meant to inflict guilt and envy.

Seriously? I do not want to be the center of some stupid pissing match. Why is it so difficult to be friends with men?

Gavin’s eyes narrow and I almost see the witty comeback he works hard to deliver. Everything inside me just wants this to stop, so we can have a few drinks, eat some greasy pizza, and play hours of black light bowling.

And just when I think Gavin might keep his mouth shut, he proves me wrong.

“It has been great. Nothing like spending several hours of the day with a beautiful woman. And an evening too.”

That’s it. I have had it. I shove against Gavin’s chest. Hard. “Okay, okay. We all get it. You both have dicks. Could you stop being one so we can have a good time? I don’t plan to spend my evening defending myself against testosterone.”

I watch as he stares at Jonas, jaw clenched, before he softens his features and shifts to look at me. “Sure thing. Let’s have some fun.”

And before I realize what is happening, he bends down and kisses the corner of my mouth. I don’t respond. No flinch. No kiss in return. Nothing.

Instead, fire ignites in my chest and radiates through every molecule in my body. Fire from feeling his lips on me again. But also because he did it to use me as a pawn. And I am no one’s pawn. How can desire and anger be so in unison? I don’t have the answer, but they both flood my veins like the Nile. Fuel my indignation. And slowly steal every bit of happiness I had about having a night out with friends.

I stare up into his eyes, his face a look of victory. But I am ready to slap it right off his pretty little lips.

Pressing up on my toes and leaning toward his ear, I whisper-hiss, “If you ever try to use me like I’m some sort of prize again, you’ll wish you’d never returned here.”

I step back and set my expression to a level so frigid he shivers. We stare at each other a minute. His eyes never leave mine. They ask me a million questions regarding me and Jonas and him. But I hold my ground. Jonas is my friend and I made that abundantly clear to him when I invited him. If he can’t handle me having other men in my life, then this second chance at whatever will end faster than it began.

He nods and his lips move without sound, I’m sorry.

I give him a tight smile and return to my friends. Erin joined us sometime during that whole showdown. Sitting between Jonas and Erin, I watch as Shelly types names on the screen—giving each of us an alternate identity.

I have been dubbed “The Raven.” Shelly “The Queen.” Jonas landed “The Machine.” Erin bows at “The Peacekeeper.” Micah gets “The Asshole.” Because that is what happens when your sister picks your name. And Gavin receives “The Dreamer.”

Everyone except me questions their names and tells her to change them. The raven suits me on many levels, and the temporary nickname perks my lips. First and foremost, black is life. Second, intelligence. No doubt there are plenty more sufficient reasons, but I will just stick with those two.

Once everyone stops antagonizing Shelly about name changes, bowling balls are chosen and the game begins. Five minutes into the first game, the bright fluorescent bulbs go out and are replaced with black lights and flashing party lights. A DJ belts out of the speakers and prattles on about people coming to the booth for music requests.