“Anyway, sorry about not showing up,” I offer.
“Nah, we’re good, just come to the next one,” Kyle says. “Fucking Tom was there; I need you to hold me back when I want to hit him.”
I pause. “Did you hit him?”
“No,” Ethan grouches.
“Well, you didn’t hit him, so I must have been there in spirit,” I quip.
“Maybe,” Kyle laughs. “Look, hang tight, yeah? I’ll see you in a minute.”
“Sure,” I say, confused. He does know that I’m not the bartender on Saturdays, doesn’t he? He hangs up before I can t
ell him this, though, so I just shrug and decide to put it out of my mind.
And I manage this, right up until Kyle and Ethan Howard burst into the breakroom half an hour later.
I stare at them, confused, and then glare at Kyle accusingly.
“You brought the cavalry,” I say.
“You need it,” he says, unrepentant. “Come on, we’re going out.”
“Where?” I ask, reluctantly leveraging myself to my feet; Kyle is bigger and stronger than me, so he’ll have no trouble pulling me up if I don’t move.
“Bowling!” Ethan says gleefully.
I give them a deadpan look.
“What?” I ask flatly.
Kyle shrugs. “It’s the only thing open right now. No choice, man. Now, come on, we’ve got Ethan’s car.”
“What about Lily?” I ask Ethan as I follow them out of the bar, making sure to lock up behind me.
“She’s with Georgia,” he says, grinning. “So you’ve got yours truly for as long as you want!”
“Then go home, I don’t want you,” I say.
“Straight through the heart!” Ethan says with mock hurt, clutching his chest.
I frown at my two so-called friends. I just want to be alone so I can mope in peace. Is that too much to ask?
Apparently, it is, because the two of them shuffle me into the back seat of Ethan’s car and wait until I’m buckled in before driving off. I slump down in my seat, somehow feeling like a pouty child who was forced to go somewhere with his parents when he doesn’t want to.
Nearly ten minutes later, we pull up in front of the bowling alley, and I blink. So, going bowling apparently wasn’t a joke, then.
“Let’s go!” Ethan says, way too excited. “It’s been a while since I’ve been bowling!”
And it’s no surprise why. Because it’s Saturday afternoon, the place is full of children and their parents. I grimace as a kid runs past me, screaming, and his harried mother chases after him, offering me an apologetic smile as she moves.
“Brilliant idea, guys,” I say, voice flat.
“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Ethan wheedles.
“Maybe,” Kyle says, suddenly sounding as fed up with this ordeal as I am. “People are already staring.”
He’s right. Ethan and Kyle are wearing their Roughshod Rollers jackets, and they’re getting several disapproving looks.