Page 8 of Embers of Torment

Chapter 3

Della

Anxious, my mind continued to drift while I sat at the stoplight. I hoped tonight's date at the Back Bay bowling and game center would be better than the last one, the one before that, and all my other ridiculous ones of late. My track record was pathetic. I joined that stupid dating app six months ago, and it had yet to work out. Then again, I shouldn't have chosen the site with the cheapest membership fee.

My last date was the worst, and I had no desire for a repeat. The guy was a cutie but stuttered, which didn't bother me at all. What got me was his lying on his application to make himself sound more appealing, even more so when his real personality turned out super different from his online persona.

When I told him I thought he was a decent person, but the evening wasn't working out, he verbally attacked me. According to him, I was an arrogant, obnoxious witch with a phobia for people who stuttered.

I had tried to explain that he was wrong, and I had experience with speech problems and knew firsthand how cruel people could be, but he had labeled me a liar. That hurt even more because what I had confessed to him was the truth.

And here I was, trying it again.

Getting a green arrow, I stepped on the gas and turned left. Midway down the block, I pulled into the parking garage attached to the venue. Adam and I usually frequented the bowling and game center by work, but my date had insisted on meeting at this one instead. Still distracted as I wondered what kind of horror show tonight would turn into, I had to slam on my brakes to avoid hitting a young woman who dashed in front of me to catch up with some dude.

I scowled at her, although she seemed oblivious that I had almost plowed her down. The woman's entire focus was on chasing after the guy, who appeared to be ignoring her. "Monkey muffins," I said with a growl. I would have seen her between the cars if I'd been paying attention. But I hadn't, and I hoped this wasn't the prelude to a rotten night. I parked my Camry as the same old questions ran through my brain.

Is it me? Am I the problem?Am I being overly sensitive and way too picky? Or am I some unappealing version of what my dates are looking for?

Scowling even darker, I exited my car and slammed the door.

It's not me, darn it! I'm a decent person, and I'm loads of fun.

Pulling myself together, I plastered a smile on my lips and entered the venue. My stomach flip-flopped as I hurried toward the bar where Jarod and I were supposed to meet. Doing a quick scan, I spotted a blond-haired, preppy-looking guy sitting on one of the stools in a light blue button-down shirt and jeans. That was Jarod, and it was refreshing to see he hadn't tried to pull one over on me. Unlike some of the guys I had dated, his appearance matched the online profile I viewed.My appreciation downgraded to concern seconds later when I realized he was chatting up the cute bartender with the long blond hair. The woman affectionately touched his arm, leaned in to whisper something, and walked away. Jarod practically fell over the bar as he tried to watch her.

Great…just great! Watching my date ogle someone wasn't the evening I had envisioned.

I cleared my throat. "Jarod?"

He slipped off his barstool and turned to face me. "Oh, hey. You must be Della. You match the photograph in your online profile except…wow…your hair. It's bright pink."

"Yeah, well. That was an old picture of me. My hair used to be blue. I was letting it return to its natural color when I took the photo. I dyed it pink after that."

"I see." Jarod gave me a noticeable once-over, and I could swear I saw disapproval lurking behind his fake smile. "So, are you ready to go bowl?"

"Sure. Let's do it."

Jarod grabbed his drink from the counter and turned to walk away. He stopped when he noticed I wasn't moving.

I tapped the ball of my foot on the wood floor, my hand firmly planted on my hip. "Hey…umm…do you mind if I get a beer first?"

"Why don't we wait til we get our shoes and lane?" Jarod nervously searched the square-shaped bar, his eyes flitting back and forth until they fell on the blonde he had been chatting with when I arrived. Short in stature, she was on the opposite side, partially hidden by the middle counter and its display of glasses and bottles. Her back faced us as she leisurely cleaned the area with a rag. "The bartender is swamped right now. Besides, that'll keep you from having to carry your bottle around while we get our lane and shoes." He walked away, forcing the issue.

I grumbled as I followed.That was a flimsy excuse. The bartender isn't busy. It's more likely he doesn't want Blondie to see me hanging with him. What a jerk!

Jarod reached the bowling rental desk and got in line. I slid into place next to him, and then it hit me. I was making assumptions and acting like the type of person I hated—judgmental, unfair, and mean, to name a few. I detested people like that.

That's not me! What the bejesus am I doing?I'm not even ten minutes into the date. I need to give Jarod and the evening a chance. Smiling, I turned toward him. "I like bowling. This should be fun."

"So do I, and I'm a pro at it. Let's see how you do." Jarod winked at me, the online charmer in him peeking through.

Jarod paid for our games. Then we got our bowling shoes and headed to lane number five. After slipping into my rental footwear, I searched for a ball that worked for me. I didn't want one that was too heavy or overly light. I preferred one I could easily throw, but with enough weight, I could put some power behind it and decimate the pins. I found a turquoise ball that felt about right. Returning to our booth, I placed my ball—now named Louise the pin destroyer—on the rack and took several steps back to wait. Jarod finished programming our names into the online scoring system and raised a questioning brow.

"Do you want to go first, or should I?"

"Go for it. I want to see what I'm up against." I gave him a playful grin while I sat to wait my turn.

Jarod was picking up his ball when a waitperson appeared behind us.