“I am. Fucking overwhelmed with happiness. Now, pay attention.” When I flinched at his tone, Vaughn sighed. “It gets boring when your best friend is busy mating like a rabbit.”
“My best friend ditched me too, so I found new friends. Maybe you should too.”
“Crap no. Sounds like too much effort.”
I grinned. “You could play with Bailey. Here, she comes.”
Vaughn didn’t even glance at the arriving blonde who threw her hands in the air.
“I got dumped again! Men suck! I hate them all!” she cried, enjoying a hug from Tawny. “Who wants to set me up now?”
“I thought you hated men,” Tucker mumbled with his mouth full of a hot dog.
“I do, but one of them has got to work, right? Everyone in the world gets someone good, but I get shit. It’s not fair. I’m nicer than anyone ever.”
This comment elicited laughter from the crew including Vaughn who took my bowling ball and rolled it for me.
“Look,” he said,” you got a strike. I’m an excellent teacher.”
“Best ever.”
Vaughn and I eyed each other, thinking the same thing. Could we make a go of it and become a couple like everyone around us? We came to the same conclusion. Never going to happen. While I thought Vaughn was gorgeous, I felt the same way about the Johansson brothers and Judd. Besides gorgeous, they didn’t interest me. Only Aaron interested me, but I couldn’t have a single conversation with him.
Vaughn glanced over at a happy Bailey who loved all of the attention and pity she received after getting dumped. He was thinking if he could make something with her. Based on his eye roll, she wasn’t an option either.
Noticing Vaughn’s fresh tattoo on the back of his forearm, I had an idea.
“Where did you get your tat?”
“Aaron’s shop. You want to get a tat?” he asked, grinning as if this was hilarious.
“I have one,” I said, rolling the ball into the gutter. “It’s not finished though.”
“How come?”
“My brother interrupted the tattoo and I never had the money to get it done again.”
“No, I meant how come you’re such a bad bowler? Is it genetic?” he asked. “Like do you come from a long line of people who can’t make a ball roll in a straight line?”
“You’re hilarious.”
“I try, Pixie Dust.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“How come?” he said, grinning wider now.
“I’m not talking to you anymore.”
“Oh, don’t be like that. Chicks love when I give them nicknames. One of them got a tattoo of the name I gave her. Do you want to know where she put that tat?”
Laughing, I shook my head. “Is it expensive to get a tat at Aaron’s shop? I hear he’s good and I’d like someone to fix it that won’t make it worse.”
“Let me see your tat!” Bailey cried, suddenly behind me. “Wait, it’s not on your ass, is it?”
“No.”
“Hooch?”
“No.”
“Titty tas?” Glaring at her, I waited until her smile faded. “Are you really mad?” she asked, panicking now.
“No, I just wanted to mess with you.”
“Oh, well, thank you for that learning experience.”
Vaughn and I laughed, but Bailey was busy yanking at my shirt to look for the tattoo.
“It’s a tramp stamp,” I said to keep her from pulling up my shirt in a public place.
“Oh, I have one of those. Mine is classy though. It’s Hello Kitty.”
Instead of responding to her classy comment, I prepared for the teasing as I lowered the back of my jeans just enough to display my wingless butterfly.
“What a pretty worm,” Bailey said, doing her fake nice thing again.
“My stepbrother showed up and made the guy stop. My stepdad doesn’t like tats and told me I couldn’t get one.”
“Men suck,” Bailey said, nodding supportively then frowning at Vaughn. “Why do you suck so much? Too much ball toxins?”
“Sounds about right,” he muttered, rolling another strike. “Girls get PMS. Guys get ball toxins. Common knowledge. Are you two going to actually bowl? I’m the only one doing anything.”
Farah instantly rushed over and rolled a ball into the gutter. “We’re participating. We like bowling.”
Bailey snorted. “Hell, I lie better than that.”
Cooper joined Farah and glanced at the alley. “I could bowl, if I wanted. I just don’t want to.”
“Liar!” Bailey cried and Cooper faked like he might backhand her. She just rolled her eyes. “He sucks. Worse bowler ever. Old people bowl better. No offense to old people,” she added, looking at the nearby league of senior citizens.
Cooper ignored Bailey and wrapped an arm around Farah. “This is fun. I’m glad we’ve made a habit out of it.”
Vaughn frowned and his blue eyes darkened. “I’m not a charity case, so you don’t need to play with me once a week to keep me from bawling myself to sleep.”
“Sure, champ,” Cooper said then looked at me. “You have a tattoo of a worm?”
“It’s supposed to be a butterfly,” I said as Bailey turned me so her brother could enjoy my lame tat.
Cooper reached for the tat as if to run a finger over it. Before he touched me, Farah smacked his hand lightly.