Page 86 of Bid For Me
An hour later, I’m sitting in the passenger seat of another of Seb’s cars, wondering how many he has. He drives with an ease that feels almost casual. It’s strange, being here like this, without the weight of Alexander’s expectations pressing down on us.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.
Seb glances over, a small, mischievous smile playing on his lips. “Patience, Elle. You’ll see soon enough.”
When he pulls into the car park of a retro bowling alley, I blink in surprise. The neon lights flicker brightly, casting a nostalgic glow over the building.
“Bowling?” I ask, incredulous.
“You said you wanted a break,” Seb replies, stepping out of the car. “This seemed...different. Fun. Like we spoke about before.”
I can’t help the small laugh that escapes me. “You’re full of surprises lately.”
“Good surprises, I hope,” he says, rounding the car to open my door. His hand extends to help me out, and I take it without thinking, the warmth of his palm against mine sending a flicker of something through me.
Inside, the bowling alley is delightfully tacky, with glowing lanes, blaring pop music, and the smell of fried food wafting from the snack bar. Seb pays for a lane and grabs two pairs of rental shoes, passing one to me.
I stare down at the scuffed, garishly coloured shoes with a smirk. “Not exactly Louboutins.”
Seb grins. “Think you can manage?”
“Watch me,” I say, sliding them on and standing to my full height. “I’ll have you know, I’m surprisingly competitive.”
“I’d expect nothing less,” Seb says, his tone amused.
We make our way to the lane, and Seb sets up the scorecard on the screen, inputting our names with a flourish.
“Ladies first,” he says, handing me a bowling ball.
I raise a brow but take it, stepping up to the lane. The ball feels heavier than I remember, but I square my shoulders and focus on the pins ahead. With a deep breath, I send the ball rolling down the lane. It wobbles slightly, veering toward the gutter, before miraculously straightening out and knocking down a handful of pins.
“Not bad,” Seb says as I turn back to him, a triumphant grin on my face.
“Let’s see you do better,” I challenge.
Seb steps up, his movements smooth and deliberate as he picks up his ball. He bowls with the kind of precision that makes it clear he’s done this before, sending the ball straight down the middle for a strike.
I groan as he turns back to me, his smirk infuriatingly smug. “Beginner’s luck,” I mutter.
“Keep telling yourself that,” he says, his eyes glinting with amusement.
As the game progresses, the atmosphere between us shifts. It’s light, playful, free of the usual tension that seems to follow us everywhere. I laugh more than I have in weeks, and Seb...he seems different. Relaxed, almost boyish, his competitive streak tempered by an easy charm that’s hard to resist.
At one point, I manage a strike of my own, and he lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll admit it – you’re better than I thought.”
“Better than you,” I tease, sticking my tongue out at him.
Seb chuckles, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary. “Maybe.”
The game ends with him narrowly beating me, but I don’t mind. The whole experience has left me lighter, the weight of the last few days momentarily forgotten.
Afterward, we grab drinks and sit at one of the small tables near the snack bar. The overhead lights cast a soft glow, and the music hums in the background, creating a surprisingly intimate atmosphere.
“Thank you,” I say, breaking the comfortable silence.
Seb raises an eyebrow. “For what?”
“For this,” I say, gesturing around us. “For...getting me out of the house. For making me laugh. I didn’t realise how much I needed it.”