Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 146548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 733(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146548 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 733(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
I finish knotting my shoe and look up. “Rowin?” I ask.
Oscar pours beer from a pitcher and nods. “They fought all the time. Personality clash.” He wipes a trickle of beer off the pint glass. “I saw the red flags from the start. Redford, however, is a stubborn ass. But we love him.”
I start to smile. Yeah, we do, but my lips fall again. Realizing he hasn’t messaged in a while. Even though he told Oscar he’d text me. “I don’t have any updates for you, man,” I tell him.
Oscar looks just as concerned as me, taking a swig of foamy beer before he says, “He might be on his bike.”
I check the weather reports. Just to ensure it’s not raining.
Partly cloudy…
“Excuse me.” One of the bowling alley managers suddenly approaches. Eyes on me. Her blonde hair is tied up in a messy bun, and she seems nervous. Her gaze pings to the camera that Jack Highland holds near our lane. In order to work today, Cassie had to sign a waiver to be filmed. So she knows potentially everything she says could be on We Are Calloway.
She takes a tighter breath, focus returning to me. “Could you tell the member of your party that we don’t allow walking on the lanes?”
Fuck.
I haven’t been paying attention to Tom.
Quickly, I swing my head towards the ten empty bowling lanes. Sure enough, at Lane 1, the furthest from us, my cousin wears a pair of skull and crossbones socks (no shoes) and takes a running start before sliding down it. He skids to his knees and slams into the bowling pins. A few knock over and clatter.
Jack films it.
“Tom!” I yell. “Get over here!”
He lifts his head, longer pieces of his ash-brown hair falling into his eyes.
You know Tom Carraway Cobalt as the eighteen-year-old lead singer of The Carraways. Tom’s band only just moved practices from the basement to concert venues, but they sell out every time. You’ve fallen in love with his irreverent charm, mischievousness, and the fact that he’s a daredevil on and off stage.
I know him as my little cousin who will be the first to fall into chaos. Who chooses to run towards danger instead of away, and who calls me up every Saturday to talk about that guy in the back of the class he has a crush on. He means more to me than any words can describe.
Fair Warning: if you fuck with him, we will both fuck with you.
He walks casually back to our booth like he didn’t just become a human bowling ball. “Don’t do that again,” I tell him, being a hardass. And then I add, “Bowling alley rules.”
My phone pings with a text, and I glance at my cell quickly.
Still at work. Don’t know how long I’ll be. How mad is she? – Farrow
He shouldn’t feel badly. I text back: dont worry about her
And I update Oscar on Farrow’s ETA.
Tom slumps down in the booth beside Oscar, and my cousin lets out a dramatic breath, “Some people just don’t want to have fun.” Mischief twinkling in his eyes, he tosses a pretzel bite in his mouth.
“Bowling is fun,” I say with extra emphasis so he won’t try that stunt twice and ruin Kinney’s event. “Normal bowling.” My cell pings.
How mad is she going to be if I don’t make it? – Farrow
Tom dunks a pretzel in mustard. “Did you say Fire Bowling? Because yes, that’s extremely fun. Dude, sign me up.”
I don’t even know what the fuck fire bowling is and I’m not going to ask. I just text Farrow back: I’ll handle it.
I can’t lie and say Kinney won’t be upset. She’s already throwing out revocations and probations.
Jack positions the camera towards Tom. “What’s fire bowling?” he asks my cousin.
“Hear me out.” Tom gears up, holding out two hands like he’s ready to go into an intense conversation. “Douse the pins in gasoline. Light them on fire. Fire Bowling.”
Jack nods like he’s considering this. “I’m glad I asked.”
“Sounds dumb,” Kinney says flatly.
“Because, Kinney,” Tom refutes. “You have no imagination.”
She stares at him blankly. “I’m imagining you transforming into a toad right now.”
He touches his chest. “So I can find my prince charming. You shouldn’t have.” He messes her hair.
She sets a death-glare on him and then rolls her eyes, over the banter, and then looks at me. “Your boyfriend is now twenty-five minutes late. I’m thinking we should reconsider his probation and go straight to revocation again.”
“Kinney,” I say firmly. “He’s trying. Give him some slack here.” Like he can hear me, I get another text from Farrow.
You shouldn’t have to handle anything. I’m going to try to be there, wolf scout. – Farrow
“Wait,” Tom cuts in, stealing my attention. He’s pointing a pretzel bite at my little sister. “You’re kicking Farrow out of the Rainbow Brigade for being late? Does that same consideration apply for your date, too?”