I Fell In Love With A Stranger (Dylan O'Brien LS)

Chapter 6

-Jessica POV-

The bowling alley was louder than I expected—music playing, pins crashing, people laughing—but somehow, standing next to Dylan, everything else faded into the background.

"Ladies first," he said, stepping back with a grin.
I rolled my eyes playfully and grabbed the ball. "Watch and learn."

I lined up my shot, took a breath, and rolled.

Strike.

I turned around slowly, raising an eyebrow.

"Beginner's luck."

He clapped, laughing. "Okay, I see you."

His turn was decent—not amazing, but definitely not bad enough for me to tease him too much. As the game went on, the competition turned playful, our laughter coming easier with every frame.

At one point, I stepped up to bowl and felt him move closer behind me.

"Here," he said softly, his hand hovering near my waist but not touching. "Line it up like this."

My breath caught—not because of the bowling.

"Got it," I said quietly.

I rolled.

Missed the strike.

"Worth it," I muttered.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said quickly, laughing as I walked back toward him.

By the time the game ended, we were sitting side by side, shoulders brushing, both a little out of breath from laughing too hard.

"I had fun," I said, tucking my legs beneath me.

"Me too," he replied, looking at me instead of the scoreboard.

That look—the one that lingered—made my stomach flutter.

"Want to get out of here?" he asked gently.

I nodded. "Yeah."

Outside, the night air was cooler, calmer. We stood near the cars, neither of us in a hurry to leave. The streetlights cast a soft glow, and for a moment, it felt like the world had slowed down just for us.

"This was a good idea," he said.

"I thought so."

He stepped closer—not rushing, not crowding me—just close enough that I could feel his warmth. My heart picked up, but I didn't move away.

"Jessica," he said softly.

"Yeah?"

He hesitated, and that hesitation told me everything.

He cared. He wasn't assuming. He was choosing.

"I've been wanting to do this," he admitted, his hand lifting slowly, brushing my arm, giving me time to pull away. "But I don't want to mess this up."

"You're not," I said honestly.

That was all it took.

He leaned in, slow and deliberate, and I met him halfway. Our lips touched—soft, unhurried, like we were learning each other in that single moment. My hand slid to his chest, fingers curling into his shirt, and he rested his hand at my waist, grounding me there.
The kiss deepened just slightly before we pulled back, foreheads touching, breaths uneven.

"That was..." he started.

"Yeah," I whispered, smiling. "It was."

He laughed quietly, brushing his thumb across my cheek.

"I'm really glad I waited," he said.

"Me too."

He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead before stepping back. "Text me when you get home."

"I will."

I watched him walk to his car, my lips still tingling, my heart full in a way I didn't expect.

As I headed inside, one thought echoed clearly in my mind—

I fell in love with a stranger.

And somehow, he didn't feel like one anymore.