Page 127 of Hate You Up Close

“Oh my God,” I chuckle. “That is the best thing I’ve ever heard. Who would have thought? Elliot Thompson, the Pin Master,” I croon.

He gives my shoulder a playful shove.

“Hey, you’re not going to be laughing when I’m bowling strikes around your ass tonight,” he says in a smug tone.

“Do you have pictures of you back in your bowling days?” I’m still laughing, trying to catch my breath. “I need to see pictures.”

“Ha,” he chuckles sarcastically. “Never happening, baby,” he adds, leaning across the console to kiss my cheek.

“We'll see about that,” I taunt, quickly turning my head and capturing his lips in a wet kiss.

Twenty minutes later, we’re laced up in our bowling shoes and starting our first game. The inside of the building looks less like an arcade and more like a club with a dark ambiance, neon lights flashing around, and loud music playing.

There’s a group of rowdy college kids in the lane next to us, drinking and taking turns bowling. Elliot seemed a little uncomfortable at first, doing something so out of his element, but he’s starting to warm up and have a little fun. Our server hasn't arrived with our drinks yet, so he’s agreeing to all of this while he’s completely sober, which is a huge win for me.

My heart clenches because, once again, he’s stepping out of his controlled, comfort zone for me. I know with one hundred percent certainty that if Zion tried to take Elliot somewhere like this, he would have never come in. Elliot probably would have made Zion drive him to a bar instead.

So, it means a lot to me that Elliot is trying his best to be a good sport. It makes me feel like what is happening between us is more than just sex…even if he won’t admit it.

I watch as Elliot dips his fingers into the holes of the bowling ball and steps up to the line.

My eyes lower, loving the way Elliot’s jeans hug his ass and thighs as he takes another step and extends his right arm back.

I love seeing Elliot in a suit, but damn. He looks sexy as hell in casual clothes too. He’s wearing dark-washed jeans, paired with a white t-shirt that looks blue under the purple and red neon lights. Of course, he argued with me about wearing casual clothes, but I warned him that he would look like an idiot if he wore a full suit to where we were going. That convinced him.

I knew it would because we all know that Elliot cares strongly about appearances. Deep down, the asshole has a good heart, but he’snotgoing to walk into a room and look out of place.

I don’t need to inflate Elliot’s ego any further, so Irefuse to tell him that his fashion sense is one of the many things I love about him. I’ve always admired a man who knows how to dress.

It’s hotter than hell in Texas during the month of June, so I decided on a pair of high-waisted jean shorts and a black tank top. My dark hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, and I put on light makeup due to the heat. Each time I wear minimal makeup, Elliot makes sure to tell me how beautiful I am…how much he loves my freckles.

Sometimes he kisses them while brushing his lips along my cheeks and nose. I’m pretty sure he’s memorized them…counted each one.

“Strike!” Elliot shouts, tossing his arms up in the air in celebration.

I drag my eyes away from his ass to see that he’s knocked down all the pins on his first bowl. I cross my arms over my chest and shake my head.

Holy shit.He really does know what he’s doing.

“Beginners luck,” I huff out, tapping my foot against the linoleum floor.

“Awe,” Elliot pouts sarcastically. “Don’t be a sore loser.”

He swaggers over to me as I stand from the bench and retrieve a shiny, purple bowling ball.

Before I step up to the line, Elliot wraps his arms around my waist and presses a few open-mouthed kisses to my neck. Shivers dance down my spine.

“Show me what you got, baby,” he says in a husky tone, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. He lowers one of his hands, giving my ass a tight squeeze before releasing me with a wink.

With flushed cheeks, I step up to the line, inhale a deep breath, and sling the heavy ball. I feel Elliot’s shit-eating grin burning into the back of my head as the ball heads straight for the gutter.

When I decided to pick bowling as our first activity of the night, I was fully prepared to laugh my ass off at Elliot.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Two hours later,we’re munching on greasy pizza and drinking cheap beer in the arcade restaurant. We played three games of bowling, all of which were short because Elliot royally kicked my ass. He won the first two, and I won the last. He won’t admit it, but I know he secretly let me win, which is really freaking cute because Elliothasto be the best at everything he does.

A nineties grunge song plays in the background as Elliot gazes at me from across the table, his gold-flecked eyes assessing every inch of my face.