Finding Us (Interracial Romance)

Strikes and Gutterballs

Jeremy

Bowling balls roll down polished lanes, clattering into pins like my life falling apart piece by piece. The air in Bowl-a-Rama is filled with the sound of laughter, arcade beeps, and the smell of greasy diner food—comforts I should be able to enjoy. But I can't. Not when I'm being haunted by three ghosts: Hannah, Cecilia, and Athena.

I glance over at my siblings, Bradley and Ellie, who are already at the scoring table. Ellie's talking excitedly, hands moving faster than I've seen in days, while Bradley looks like he's halfway to dozing off. Typical. I don't know what possessed me to agree to this family bowling night. Well, I do—distraction. But that's the thing about distractions; they only work if you're willing to let them.

"Jeremy! Are you gonna just stand there, or are you actually gonna bowl?" Ellie yells from the lane, her hands resting on her hips. She looks just like our mom when she does that.

Bradley nudges me with his elbow, a smirk on his face. "Yeah, man, what's up? You've been staring at the lanes for five minutes."

"I'm just trying to strategize," I lie, rubbing the back of my neck. "Don't wanna embarrass myself in front of the pros."

Ellie rolls her eyes and laughs. "Please. The only pro here is Zayna, and she's not even here yet. She's probably still talking Jake's ear off."

"Jake and Zayna," I mutter. The last thing I need is a reminder of how Ellie's best friends are also Cecilia's siblings. Great. I can't escape it. No matter how hard I try to avoid thinking about her—about them—I'm always pulled back in. It's like trying to swim in quicksand.

"Come on," Bradley says, pushing me toward the rack of bowling balls. "Get your head in the game, man."

I sigh, pick up the heaviest ball I can find, and take my stance. Focus. All I have to do is roll this ball down the lane and knock over some pins. Easy. I step forward, swing my arm back, and let the ball fly.

Gutter.

"Classic," Bradley snickers, crossing his arms.

Ellie bursts out laughing. "Okay, okay, I'll give you a pass since you've clearly got a lot on your mind. But seriously, Jeremy, what's going on?"

I don't even want to start unpacking that. Instead, I walk back to the table and plop down in the plastic chair, rubbing my eyes. "Nothing. Just tired from the meeting with Amaya for her music video."

Ellie's not buying it. She sits down next to me, tossing a look at Bradley that says, give us a second. He obliges, wandering off toward the snack counter.

"Come on, Jer. I'm not an idiot," Ellie says, her voice softer now. "You haven't been yourself since—well, since Hannah. And since Cecilia and Athena stopped talking to you." She pauses for a second, letting that sink in. "I know that sucks."

I bite the inside of my cheek and stare down at the table, the worn wood chipped and peeling. "It's not just them," I finally say. "It's everything. The way people see me. The roles I keep getting. It's like I'm stuck in this dark box I can't get out of."

Ellie frowns, leaning closer. "You mean the typecasting?"

"Yeah. They see me as this villain now. Ever since Murder Diaries, it's been one dark role after another. Rocco Grimshaw, the cult leader, was one thing, but then every casting director wants me to be some version of him. And now? I can't even remember the last time I played someone...good."

"You're good in real life though," Ellie says quietly. "At least, to the people who know you."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Am I? Cecilia won't talk to me, and neither will Athena. And Hannah? Don't even get me started on Hannah."