These Games We Play

chapter sixty one: Strip bowling

The game room at Hawthorne House sent Cam and Lia into a state of nearly apoplectic joy. The room was lines with shelves, the shelves filled with hundreds—maybe even thousands—of board games from around the world.

We started with Settlers of Catan. Grayson decimated us. We worked our way through four other games, none of which I’d even heard of before. As we were debating our next selection, Jameson strolled into the room. 

“How about an old Hawthorne standard?” he suggested wickedly. “Strip bowling.”

“What the heck is strip bowling?” Lia demanded, then she looked at Cam, eyes sparkling. 

“Never mind!” Cam grinned. “We’re in.”

☆☆☆☆

Strip bowling was exactly what it sounded like, in that it involved both bowling and, if you were unsuccessful, stripping.

“The goal is to knock over the least pins,” Jameson explained. “But you have to be careful, because any time your ball ends up in the gutter, you lose an article of clothing.”

I could feel heat rising in my cheeks. My entire body felt warm—too warm. This was a horrible idea.

“This is a horrible idea,” Grayson said. For a second or two, he and Jameson engaged in a silent standoff.

“Then why are you here?” Jameson volleyed back, waltzing over to pick out a dark green bowling ball with the Hawthorne crest on it. “No one is forcing you to play.” Grayson didn’t move, and neither did I.

“So theoretically,” Cam said, “I want to knock over either zero pins or only one—whichever I can manage without putting the ball in the gutter?”

When Jameson answered, his green eyes locked on to mine. “Theoretically.”

☆☆☆☆

It became quickly apparent that excelling at strip bowling required precision and a high tolerance for risk. The first time Jameson cut things too close, and his ball landed in the gutter, he took off a shoe. Then another shoe. A sock. Another sock. His shirt.

I was terrible at strip bowling. Not because I was a bad bowler, I was excellent at knocking over only a few pins. I wasn’t excellent at not getting distracted by Jameson Hawthorne who kept looking at me. 

I tried not to look at the scar that ran the length of his torso, tried not to picture myself touching his chest. I was failing miserably it was why I was now once again staring at him when Cam took her turn. Her ball ended up in the gutter and she was now down to her pooka dotted bra. Lia had only lost two of her shoes and her stockings. Grayson went next and lost his suit jacket.

“Eva it's your turn,” Cam muttered snapping me out of the trance I was in at the cause of Jameson Hawthorne.

“Bit distracted are you, Heiress.” He asked me coyly and I rolled my eyes and took a ball. I rolled and my breath caught in my chest when it ended up in gutter. I took off my shirt and looked dead straight at Jameson who was watching as I did.

After it was off, I threw it at him and once he took it off his face I smirked at him. “Can’t be getting distracted now can we Hawthorne,” I said taking a seat next to Cam.

It was his turn again, and the ball hung to the edge of the lane until the very end— then toppled into the gutter. I tried—and failed—to look away as Jameson’s fingers reached for the waistband of his jeans.

Without warning, the door to the room burst inward, and Xander barrelled into the bowling alley, then skidded to a halt. He was breathing hard enough to make me wonder how long he’d been running.
 
“Seriously?” Xander wheezed. “You’re playing strip bowling without me? Never mind. Focus! This is me focusing.”