16. Lucifer in Levis

sixteen

Violet

Didn't Satan used to be an angel or something? 8

Not to compare Cam to the actual devil, but sometimes… I thought I was going to win this one. I even wore the only shirt I own that sits a little too low for comfort to distract her. It's red and fitted and perfectly work-appropriate, but shows more than anything else I'd ever even consider wearing.

I planned on making this as hard as possible for her. But when I walk into Pacific Pins Bowling Alley, my body turns to Jello.

The jeans are one thing. Dark, mid-rise beauties that hug her hips in a way I wish I could. Even the rips on her thighs exposing that soft, pale skin underneath aren't what makes Cam absolutely evil, no matter how taunting. What forms a pretzel inside of my stomach is the fact that Hayden fucking Ayers has his hands wrapped around her waist, her ass pressed firmly against his pelvis.

I know I said fuck already, but fuck, fuckity-fuck.

Obviously, Cam is her own woman, and what she does with her body is frankly none of my business. But that doesn't cool my simmering blood. I know she's doing this on purpose. I know she just wants to throw me off my game. Still, I can't help but wonder how on Earth she got him to agree to it.

I look around at the group. It seems everyone is already here getting the lanes set up. Even Malcolm is entering names into the computer, and the dude is late for every shift. Leave it to the boss to be the last one to arrive.

"Size seven please," I say with a strained smile when I approach the shoe booth. The teenager behind it eyes my chest with a smirk, and even though this makes my skin crawl, it boosts my confidence that this isn't going to be easy for Cam either. He hands me a pair of shoes that look like they were previously owned by a baby clown. Like a homicidal baby clown, given the strange orange stains all over them. I put them on in the hopes that I'm not contaminating evidence for a twenty-year-old cold case.

After tying laces that I swear are disintegrating in my hands, I look toward the lanes, blue, red, and yellow lights beaming across the room. Something about the neon-patterned floor and scent of greasy food feels so nostalgic to me.

Dave, our neighbor from the trailer park in Clarkston, worked at a bowling alley for a couple years. He was a really nice guy, and even let us tag along sometimes, so long as Ruthie agreed to stop blabbing to her friends at school that she got to bowl for free. If it weren't for Dave, the only outings we'd have were trips to the local park, which was really just an empty field. Dave got new jobs a lot, so after the bowling alley, we went to the movie theater, and then the aquarium, then the Martial Arts Academy, all for free.

Is leaving this little piece of information out considered cheating?

Maybe. But Cam is smart enough to know I wouldn't have agreed to stakes so high if I wasn't going to win. Especially since she's aware I've been saving that spot for just the right thing at just the right time.

I'm not worried about it. Middle school me has this one in the bag.

I glance around and find everyone gathered around the bar. Well, not everyone. Brooke and Malcolm are in the arcade playing a racing game, and from the looks of it, she is totally kicking his ass.

I approach them. Cam is still tangled in Hayden's thick biceps, the back of her head resting against his chest.

This has to be part of the bet, right?

Her eyes dart over to me, and I immediately look away. I'm not going to give her the satisfaction.

"Hey Vi!" Avery nods, flashing me a soft smile. "I was wondering when you were gonna show."

Avery doesn't need to know that the reason I'm late is because I spent two hours watching bowling tips on YouTube.

"Yeah, I had some catching up to do," I say instead. Avery nods, and Adrian's head tilts slightly.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" they ask. Adrian is a sweetheart. They're always bouncing around the facility, asking everyone what they can do to help.

Everything about them screams wholesome, but you'd be shocked as to what they're capable of.

Once, a rude customer screamed at Brooke because she brought out the wrong "Daisy Mae." When I got to the lobby, Adrian was already telling him not to yell at her and that, if he didn't want to get the dogs mixed up, he should be more specific or—and I quote—"Pick a less basic name." I did have to have a chat with them afterward, but I couldn't deny their intentions were purely protective.

I smile.

"No, I think we're all good now. But thanks."

I feel a presence behind me, a familiar voice chiming in. "I think someone wants to say hi," Hayden says.

Normally, I love Hayden's voice. It's deep but gentle, and if I'm hearing it, it means we're together. I like being around Hayden, even though he's usually paying me to be there. But images of his arms snaked around Cam's waist flicker in my mind, and I don't realize how tense my jaw is until my teeth grate together in a painful, screeching friction.

I'm not the jealous type. I loved when everyone saw Mallory the way I did. Radiant and elegant. Beautiful. She walked around with a sort of glow to her. A glow that would irritate me when people didn't turn their heads to look.

I'm not the jealous type, and I'm not even jealous now. I'm just pissed that, if I let Cam distract me, I might lose this goddamn bet.

I plaster a smile on my face and turn around to look at him. Hayden's grinning down at me with the most innocent face and steps to the side to reveal a tall, lanky white poodle. Major's eyes widen, and he steps back excitedly in an attempt to control himself. His gaze flashes to Hayden, and he sits quickly, without being prompted. Hayden gives him a nod.

"Okay, Major," he says, tapping his knee. "You can go say hi."

Major trots over to me, the pom-pom on his tail swaying with enthusiasm. I crouch down and ruffle my fingers through his top knot, sinking my knuckle into his ear and scratching vigorously.

"Hey handsome," I say, grateful that I now have something else to look at for the duration of the night. Something that isn't Cam.

Hayden slaps a hand against his chest adoringly. "Awh."

My gaze flicks up to look at him, but out of the corner of my eye, I see her. I don't mean to, and I don't want to, but my eyes latch onto Cam the moment she looks back at me.

It's a brief glance. Something nobody else around us would ever think twice about. But to me, it feels like I'm frozen in time.

Mallory's eyes are blue and glassy. Sometimes, they almost looked translucent. I always thought she had the most beautiful eyes on the planet. Blue has always been my favorite color. But the way the light reflects off of Cam's umber irises is like a strike of lightning in a midnight storm. When it hits just right, it highlights all of the things you didn't know were there. The golden undertones, the bronze flecks. Her eyes aren't brown, at least not just. Whatever color you'd classify it as, it may just be my new favorite.

I look back to Major.

After we get our drinks and Brooke beats Malcolm a second time at the racing game, we break off into two lanes. Just my luck, I get stuck with Cam and the human straitjacket.

Kidding. Kind of.

I mean, his hands are wrapped around hers, guiding her body to the perfect bowling form. I'm sure this is another attempt to distract me because, for someone who threatened to kick my ass at bowling, she's sure acting completely clueless about it. Their arms draw back together, his other hand on her hip, then they roll. The ball makes a dull thud as it lands on the polished lane, barreling down the center.

I don't believe in God, but I still pray for it to roll into the gutter. When they get a strike instead, I take a long swig of my drink. Cam turns around, flashing me a taunting smile.

"Nice practice roll," I say. Cam tosses her head at the lane.

"Your turn."

I shake my head.

"Some of us don't need to practice." I say it confidently and teasing, but I don't know that I actually mean it. I haven't picked up a ball in years. Hayden whistles.

"Violet's getting spicy."

I chuckle and sit back as I watch everyone finish their practice rounds. Avery rolls first. He chucks his ball so hard I'm shocked the wooden lane doesn't shatter. He gets a strike though, and we all clap, impressed.

"You're up," Hayden says, patting my shoulder like I'm a kid on her first day of T-Ball.

I set my drink down onto the table and grab a scuffed red ball off the rack. Cam stands to the side, arms crossed as she watches me. I position my feet, one in front of the other, and make eye contact with her as I bend down slightly, revealing a small gap between my shirt and my chest.

Her jaw goes slack, just for a moment, then she quickly snaps it shut. My tongue pokes the inside of my lower lip as I try not to look too amused. My arm sways, my fingers release, and the ball glides effortlessly down the lane, crashing into the pins. They tip, falling into one another in a domino effect. But after the ball falls into the pit behind, I realize one pin is still standing. It wobbles, for a moment, then steadies itself, still upright.

"Nice!" Avery says, and Hayden claps theatrically. I pick up another ball, this one a shimmering cerulean. I line my feet up, take a breath, then release it.

The ball slips straight into the gutter, and I try not to hang my head in embarrassment. I tack on a smile instead and turn around with forced confidence.

"Who's up?"

Hayden rolls, unattached to Cam this time, and knocks down six pins, then two more. Next, it's Cam's turn. She eyes me as if she's trying to intimidate me when she walks up to the lane, a pink ball just slightly larger than the one I used in her hand.

My stomach sinks. Either it's by complete chance, or Cam knew exactly which ball to pick up. It's just right for her, thirteen pounds and the holes placed so her fingers stretch just the right amount. I swallow.

She steps back, holding the ball up to her chest, before lowering it down to her knee. She takes one step. Then another. Her arm draws back, the ball lowers down, and—

"Shit, watch out!"

The ball slips from her fingers, flying into the lane next to us. Synchronous gasps escape Hayden's and Avery's mouths as the ball thuds against the wood and barrels down the lane until it lands in the gutter.

Cam's face grows beet red, her eyes widening and her nose twitching. Maybe when Hayden was helping her, she wasn't pretending after all.*

"Hey kid, maybe you'd hit some pins if you stayed in your lane!" Avery shouts.

My next turn isn't much better. It stays in our lane at least but goes directly into the gutter. And the next round, only two pins fall over.

"Tough streak," Avery mutters, just as he rolls his fourth strike of the game. Luckily, Cam is struggling just a bit more than me, and I manage to stay a hair ahead of her the entire time.

It's the last round. Avery just finished out at 216 points, and no matter how well the rest of us roll, there's no doubt he's the winner. But I'm not focused on the overall victory. I just care about my own.

I stare down the center of the lane, letting my brain fill with Dave's voice.

"Aim between the pins."

I exhale, tossing my arm back, then strategically letting go at just the right time. That same glittery ball spins down the wood, shimmering in the neon bowling alley lighting. It hits the pins with force, but not too much force, and seven pins crash against the wood.

I can't stop myself from doing a little dance of victory as I pick up my next ball. Cam hasn't rolled anything over a six, and though I've been struggling the majority of the game too, I'm confident now that I am going to win this bet.

My last roll is a one, bringing me to a whopping total of seventy-one points. Avery grins at my excitement, no doubt wondering why I am so damn happy, when my score is so damn low. Cam, however, is glaring at me, her arms crossed, dissatisfied.

I can't help myself. I pull out my phone and click the thread titled "Sparky"

Ready to admit you like me?

Cause you're about to, whether you like it or not.

Cam's eyes dart to me when she feels the vibration in her back pocket. She eyes me suspiciously as she pulls it out and rolls her eyes in a melodramatic manner. She begins typing, then looks up at me, waiting for me to read her response.

Don't get ahead of yourself

I still have two rolls

You need 19 points to catch up Princess.

It would take a miracle.

*eye roll emoji*

Kiss that empty spot on your arm goodbye

*laughing emoji*

If you win

Not only will I get the tattoo

I pause, considering what I'm about to say, then decide that watching Cam's reaction in real time will be totally worth it.

But I"ll also fuck you so hard you have to call out of work.

I look up, locking my focus onto Cam's face. She leans against the table, sucking on a cherry lollipop Adrian won for her from the arcade. The white stick twirls between her fingers, then suddenly stops. Her eyes scan the screen of her phone, pink rising to her cheeks as her pouty lips part, her jaw falling open. She looks up at me, blinking slowly.

I flash her a sinful smile, letting one eyebrow raise ever-so-slightly. Cam swallows.

"Not bad," Hayden says, plopping down in the seat next to her. He stretches his arms behind his head and rests the back of his skull against his interlocked palms. "One-hundred-and-forty-two."

Our eye contact breaks as Cam looks up at the screen and scowls at her position on the board. Hayden pats her back.

"It's okay, Cam. It's just a game."

Maybe it is just a game, to him at least. And maybe it's even just a game to her. I, however, could not be happier. My score might be shit compared to the boys', but there is no way in hell Cam is going to score nineteen points in two turns.

She gets up, trudges over to the rack, and selects that same, pink ball. She looks at Hayden, almost as if searching for reassurance, then looks at me in defeat.

She doesn't even step backwards. She doesn't crouch down as she lets go. She just kind of tosses the ball, in an almost pouting type of way. The ball glides slowly across the lane, hitting three pins on the left side. The pins fall, and Cam huffs, crossing her arms.

"Do I have to finish?" she asks. "It's just rubbing salt in the wound."

Hayden's eyes shoot up, looking at her with concern. He smiles.

"It's something new," he says. "You should finish, just so you can say you did it."

My brows furrow, and my gaze flicks back over to Cam. She lets out a heavy sigh, and my mind flips back to that conversation we had in the storage closet. The one about trying new things.

I thought it was just about entertaining her bisexuality. But this comment makes me think there might be more to it.

She grabs another ball, this time a yellow one.

It's small, and dull, and scuffed so badly I'm not sure it's even going to roll.

"You got this Cam," I say in support. I don't know why, but I just feel like she needs it. Besides, I've won.

There's no point in gloating, at least not right now.

Cam smiles at me, the dimple in her cheek just briefly existing, then vanishing again. She stands. She crouches. She rolls.

The ball spins down the alley, a tiny yellow tornado flying toward the remaining pins. It crashes into them, the front ones tipping, then toppling over into the ones behind. The ball rolls into the pit in the back, and Cam turns around. She's not smiling, but she's not pouting either.

Really, she just looks relieved it's over.

"Hey, that's not bad," I say, feeling like, for some reason, I need to make her feel better. I have no idea why. Just minutes ago, I wanted to relentlessly rub her face in my victory. But now, I don't care about that anymore. "Nine points behind is nothing."

Avery chuckles, shaking his head.

"Nine points behind you." Hayden shoots him a glare, so I don't have to. "But she's got time."

My brows drop over my eyes as I look at him in confusion.

"Game's over, dude. You won."

Avery shakes his head, pointing to the screen hanging above us.

"I won," he agrees. "But the game isn't over. She got a spare."

Cam's head shoots up, looking at Avery, and then at the screen with just as much confusion as I did.

"Huh?"

"She got a spare," he explains. "In the last round, if you get a strike, or a spare, you get to go a third time."

Fuck.

I forgot about that. Suddenly, all the guilt and mature feelings I had about the situation crumble to the ground. Cam has another turn. Her face lights up, and she holds up a finger before running over to the next lane. She returns with Adrian, their hands woven tightly together.

"Moral support?" I ask. Cam nods.

"Adrian's my good luck charm."

Adrian winks at me, and Hayden and Avery nod in agreement. Why do I suddenly feel like I'm completely fucked?

Adrian hands her a ball, and Cam stands in front of the lane, her eyes closed tight. Her chest rises and falls slowly, and Adrian squeezes her arm. Then, they take a step back.

We all watch as Cam rolls a perfect, pin-shattering strike.