The Bookworm's Guide to Flirting (The Bookworm's Guide 3)

She reached for her bottle of water and looked at me. “What if we hung out later? Like after lunch maybe.”

“Are you compromising?”

“I’m going to compromise you over the head with a frying pan, Dylan.”

I laughed and reached out, squeezing her hand. “Okay, I’m sorry. Yes. Let’s hang out later. I’ll think of something to do.”

“Not sports.”

“Sports on a first date? I don’t want you to hate me.”

“Calling it a first date is weird. We eat together all the time. We’ve been out for dinner a bunch of times.” She toyed with the cap on her bottle. “Can’t it just be hanging out?”

“Fine. Hanging out with kissing.”

She blinked at me, then smiled. “Now that’s a compromise.”

***

“You’re not going to hate this. I promise.”

Saylor looked at me wearily. “I don’t know where we’re going. Why won’t you tell me?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“It’s sports, isn’t it?”

“It is not sports. I promised you it wasn’t.” I flicked the indicator stick—I was not calling it a blinker no matter how many times she told me that’s what it was.

Although, admittedly, that change made more sense than a lot of other vocab ones.

“Where are we goinggggg?” She sighed dramatically, leaning over so her head fell on my shoulder.

“If you don’t move, I’m going to end up elbowing you,” I warned her. “I need to change gear.”

“I don’t know why you don’t buy an automatic truck.”

“Because I like knowing I can drive properly, unlike you.”

She poked her tongue out at me. “Oh! I know where we’re going! It’s the bowling alley!”

“Took you long enough.”

“I love bowling!” She was practically bouncing in her seat now. “I haven’t been in ages.”

“Huh. Lucky guess, then.” I turned into the parking lot—a term I had started to default to—and into an empty space. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! Let’s go!” She burst out of the truck with an enthusiasm I’d only ever seen her reserve for books or pizza and darted to the doors.

Laughing, I followed after her. She was already inside by the time I got there, and I had to rush to catch up with her at the counter. There was a group of teens ahead of us in the line, and Saylor was bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“I can’t believe you’re this excited for bowling,” I said, stepping up next to her. “The last time I saw you like this, that fantasy book you’d been waiting forever for was released.”

“Oh, my God.” She turned so she was flat against me and her hands were resting on my chest. “I love bowling. It’s one of the only sporty kind of things I can tolerate. I used to come all the time when I was a kid, but I never have time now.”

“That’s because you’re always reading,” I teased, stepping forward when the kids had their shoes. I paid, and after we’d switched our shoes over, we stepped into the retro, sixties-style alley and headed for the lane number we’d been given.

We passed a diner with a bar and an arcade and judging by the way Saylor looked around with delight all over her face, there was no way we were going to be leaving anytime soon.

I was okay with that.

She bounced over to the lane we’d been assigned and went straight for the little machine where you could put your names. She tapped hers in followed by mine, then got up and clapped, grinning widely.

I couldn’t help but smile at her. “Let me guess. You’re gonna shit talk me now.”

“You’re going down!” Her laugh burst out of her and she went to the bowling balls. After examining several of them and lifting a few, she settled on a neon green ball that made my eyes hurt.

I held back to get my own ball. She approached the lane, got into position, and made her run up. The green ball flew out of her hand and thundered down the lane, only to sidle off to one of the gutters along the side.

“Ouch.”

She turned around shrugged, biting her lower lip. “Oops?”

I took hold of my bowling ball and approached her, using my thumb to free her lip from her teeth. “Don’t do that, or this hangout won’t last very long.”

Petty little shit that she was, she immediately did it again with a spark in her eyes, then skipped off to the seats.

She was going to pay for that.

I did the same run up she had, but when my ball hit the flooring, it stayed straight and smashed into the bowling pins, taking all but one of them down.

“This is some bullshit,” Saylor muttered.

I shrugged. “That’s what happens when you work out.”

“I work out.” She picked up another bowling ball, one that was a little heavier than the last one.

“Working out your next book does not count.”

“I beg to differ. Now be quiet before I accidentally aim this at you.”