Cami’s First Kiss, P6 – Excerpt Monday September 14, 2009

 

Once a month, a bunch of authors get together and post excerpts from published books, contracted work or works in progress, and link to each other. You don’t have to be published to participate–just an writer with an excerpt you’d like to share. For more info on how to participate, head over to the Excerpt Monday site! or click on the banner above.

 

This is the 6th installment of Cami’s First Kiss. For the first 4 excerpts, click Cami’s Page OR Free Reads above.

 

So, yeah. Bowling.

 

I stood there, not really sure what to do with my super-Lysoled patchwork shoes as Ben slid another pair toward Lisbeth. I’ve never seen anyone accept rented footwear like they were some overpriced designer I wouldn’t own. I guess there really is a first time for everything.

 

“Lane eleven, ladies.” Ben cocked his head toward the alleys and gave me a little shove. As I turned to go, his size twelves swatted my bottom with a dull thud. “That’s the lightest part of the butt kicking I’m going to give you tonight.”

 

I really didn’t like him. I mean, good-looking and cocky go together so frequently it’s basically a cliché, but he brought it to a whole new level.

 

At lane eleven – which just happened to be my lucky number so I was feeling hopeful – I dropped onto the bench-seat thing next to Lisbeth. She was already pulling that little metal clasp thing off her socks.

 

“He isn’t subtle, is he?” Lisbeth purred…yeah, she purrs. “Little hearts. Very cute in a junior high-check-yes-or-no kind of way, don’t you think?”

 

I would have answered her, I probably would have even told her what she wanted to hear, but my socks weren’t as easily parted. They were fastened together with one of those plastic things that looks like a question mark. Ripping them apart didn’t work, so I’d resorted to gnawing through the plastic stem.

 

“But,” she continued, smirking at the fuzzy yellow socks hanging from my lips, their ankle pompoms bouncing about my chin. “What’s up with the bright yellow? Is he colorblind or something?”

 

The stem snapped and my teeth slammed together with an inner-ear shattering clank. He had literally driven me to gnashing my teeth. What did this say about him? Nothing good. He’d probably be the perfect match for Lisbeth.

 

I glanced over my shoulder, wondering what had happened to Ben and Dane. They were still at the counter talking to a guy in a white t-shirt with greased back hair. I had a little John Travolta flash but then the music hit me. Okay, actually the hem of the poodle skirt of the girl who was roller skating by hit me. Either way, I glanced around suddenly afraid that we had been sucked into a fate even worse than Disco Bowling.

 

50’s Themed Disco Bowling.

 

Which, let’s stop and just consider the oddity of anything that has “50’s” and “Disco” in the same phrase…

 

Not needing any more mocking than strictly necessary, I covered my new yellow socks with those foot-slut shoes.

 

As the guys joined us, the music ended with a staticy click and the gates at the end of all the lanes dropped. Before I could look for the red emergency exit lights, Elvis’s I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You filled the silence and a spot light lit the end of our alley. The greased-back hair guy stood there, multi-color poodle skirt girls surrounding him with a swish of over starched crinoline.

 

Bowling Theater. Who would have guessed.

 

As I sat back to enjoy the show, Greaser Guy raised the mic and belted out the first bars of the song, little 50’s girls swooning about him until he strolled down the alley in our direction. There was no way this could go well for me. With a spotlight and a mic heading my way, I figured I’d probably accidentally maim someone or bring the building down around us.

 

When the group got to the end of the lane, Greaser Guy gave each girl a good looking over before brushing them off one-by-one. Then, with frightening precision, he turned our way, his grin widening as he studied our group.

 

Lisbeth perked up, doing that shoulder roll thing again to drop her dress down one arm before flipping her hair back in a move I swear she was considering patenting. I tried to slide my feet under the bench, praying I wouldn’t trip him as he threw himself at Lisbeth’s feet.

 

Greaser guy slid around the little score-keeping desk and moved our way, the song still flowing as every eye in the house followed him into our safely-out-of-the-spotlight area.

 

And then, everything happened in slow motion.

 

Greaser guy passed the mic to his other hand and reached our way. Lisbeth, her glossy lips slipping into a pouty smile, lifted her own to allow him to take it…or kiss it…or something. Only, he reached right past her. To me.

 

He swept my hand from my lap and, with a gentle tug, pulled me to my feet and toward the spotlight. With an over-dramatized sigh, he collapsed to his knees, singing for my eternal love, if not my eternal mortification.  And then, as he crooned the last promise of love, the lights went dead.

 

 

“Links to other Excerpt Monday writers
Note: I have not personally screened these excerpts. Please heed the ratings and be aware that the links may contain material that is not typical of my site.