fake (b.t.c.)

five

"come on. like you can do better."
"of course i can do better."
•••

ben cook
hey, it's ben, you gave me your number at some point last night
this is jules, right?

julia summers
yeah, it's me!!
how are you? we were out pretty late😂

ben cook
tired, but it was worth it :)
we should hang out more

julia summers
i'd like that
what about next saturday?

ben cook
let me check my schedule...
you're in luck :)

julia summers
oh, shit, i forgot
we have that thing with the whole cast at haswell on saturday

ben cook
ohhh you're right
friday night?

julia summers
that sounds good to me!

•••
a knock sounded throughout my apartment the next friday night.
"it's open!" i called down the hallway as i grabbed my jacket.
"you ready?" he asked.
"almost. give me just a sec." i said, tying up my boots. ben laughed. "you really are perpetually late."
"i wasn't lying." i agreed. "always have been, always will be."
•••
"bowling?" ben asked. "get ready to lose."
i scoffed. "i'm going to destroy you."
"not a chance." he picked up a bright yellow ball and tossed it from hand to hand, smiling.
"bring it." i laughed, and entered our names into the scoring machine. ben velcroed his shoes, and then walked up to the alleyway. he blew on his ball a few times, making me giggle, and then threw it down towards the pins. he knocked down four of the pins, and threw the next ball into the gutter.
"oh my god, you suck!" i doubled over laughing at him, and he rolled his eyes. "come on. like you can do better."
"of course i can do better." i wiggled my eyebrows and grabbed a ball. by some stroke of luck, all ten pins fell down, and i threw my hands up in celebration. ben shook his head, though he was still smiling.
"beat that, cook."