Justin is just as much my boyfriend as my best friend I realize. I'm just one of the boys, hopping into Robert's truck the weekend before orientation, smiling sweetly at Ant before sitting between him and Lewis. I land on something hard, and when I reach under my butt I realize it's a broken seat belt. I'm proud that I can name all the guys rather than wait for one of them to say the other's name. Justin frowns when he spots where I'm seated. "Yeah no," he beckons Ant out who mutters a stream of curse words but moves, and Justin sits next to me. Robert is driving, and I have no idea where we're headed but I'm happy to be along for the ride. I reach for Justin's hand and his fist encloses my fingers gently giving them a quick squeeze. I notice that the guys are eyeing is both with mischievous grins. Instantly I feel uncomfortable but when Justin juts his middle finger up, everyone laughs. "Was that really necessary?" I ask, feeling a little hypocritical. There was one point, seventh through ninth grade where I cussed like a sailor, just because I could. But sometime during freshman year, it just felt forced and I stopped cold turkey. Minus the occasional "damn" or "hell", Lord forgive me. People flicking each other off just comes off as so trashy to me, but I don't have it in me to explain this all to Justin and the guys, let alone bring it up. Sierra doesn't curse at all, but we all know she has it in her. We being me, my brother, my aunt, Sierra's mother, and even my dad, as discussed at our family reunion at Busch Gardens last year.
Ant, now relocated to the front seat, turns on the radio, and when a Maroon5 song comes on I yell for him to go back. Adam Levine is life, and I don't care what anyone says. Robert scoffs at me and plugs in the auxiliary cord and plays... 2 Chains. I smack my lips in disgust as the song playing ends and Talk Dirty starts playing next. All the boys channel their inner Jason Derulo, dancing suggestively in their seats. I'm not sure what to make of it, as most of the time in my life has been spent around groups of girls as opposed to guys. If I can help, I always seek the help of or go to a female employee, or at the store, head for the self-check out line. Otherwise my anxiety skyrockets. It's quite pitiful, but I laugh to alleviate the roaming butterflies in my stomach. Shaking my head I decide to join in as well, to the surprise of everyone else. I will never admit it as long as I live, but I actually like this song and know all the words. I get carried away and when the rap verse comes on, I belt it out. All by myself. I falter halfway through before Ant warbles out, "Her pussy's so good I bought her a pet/ Anyway, every day I'm trying to get to it," sliding a pair of shades on.
"Gosh Ant, can't you keep it PG?"
"She surely didn't."
Lewis and Ant banter back and forth, sounding anything but serious. If I was worried about anything before now, all my fears have up and left. We pull up in front of the bowling alley, right next to the Family Dollars store. The sun is bright and I shield my eyes when I step out, hand in Justin's. The last time I step foot in this particular alley, I was twelve and it was for my brother's baseball team celebration. The strobe lights are on and flashing, and the smells of popcorn and hot food waft into my nose. I hope the guys are planning on getting something to eat eventually. I feel weird volunteering my hunger, and instead head to the counter with the other guys as we get bowling shoes, and laugh when Robert has to buy socks because he wore sandals. Socks at the bowling alley are crazy expensive and I smother a laugh myself as he grumbles and pays for the pair. The guys all let me pick which lane to play on, and I head straight for the middle, nervous again because of how long it's been since I've even held a bowling ball. Justin puts all of our names into the little computer screen. My cheeks flame when I see what Justin has typed for me; and abbreviation of the phrase "love song". His fairly recent nickname for me, which I tried and failed to convince him of how stupid it sounded. "What the hell?" I hiss, as Robert, Ant, and Lewis all begin to snicker and claim bowling balls. "What?" Just asks innocently as he hits enter, sealing my name onto the score screen above our heads. "Shut up," I whine. I reach for a twelve pound ball so I'm ready for my turn. I nearly drop it on my foot when I realize how heavy it is to my wrist. "Slow down sweetheart," Lewis says, coming to my rescue, followed by Justin, though Lewis was closest to me.
More jokes ensue, and I settle instead on a ten pound ball, but the laughing stops once I start kicking their asses. And it feels great. I get a turkey twice in a row, and even Justin's flashes his competitive grit and disgust at losing. "Justin, this girl is hella good!" Robert says as he sends his ball spinning down, knocking down all but two pins. I smirk at them, and go to get my ball so I can go next. When I look down where the balls are supposed to come out, I never see mine surface, and look around, my gaze landing on each boy individually. They are all the picture of innocence, but I know better."Okay, who has my ball?" I say crossing my arms. "Love, you think we stole it or something?" Ant asks before he dissolves into laughter. I don't know how I know, but I stomp up to him and reach over behind his back, and see my purple marble bowling ball. "Gimme. And don't call me Love."
YOU ARE READING
Hello August, Please Be Good To Me
Teen FictionI look out into the parking lot and squint to make sure I'm not going crazy. Walking up with a bouquet of flowers is Justin. He's wearing a muscle tee, and my eyes settle on the part of his tattoo that's not covered up by the plastic holding the flo...
