Short Spurts

Bowling for Boners-2

I watched from the sidelines that evening. If he was nervous, I couldn’t tell. That’s what made him a pro, I guessed. That and the fact that he bowled like a champ, strike after strike, the crowd going wild, me no exception. Pete, of course, won the tournament, everyone crowding around him when the trophies were presented.

I went back to my booth to close out the register. I looked up, but he was lost in a sea of smiling faces. Sighing, I stared down lane six, a glorious image of his hairy ass filling my head. When I blinked, he was standing across from me, blue eyes twinkling, smile stretched wide.

“Hope you’re packed,” he said, hand discretely over mine.

“Packed?” I asked, confused. “For what?”

The smile went even wider. “Dude, the top three go to Maui. All expenses paid.” He gripped my hand in his. “Two tickets, Matt. Like, duh.”

The smile was infectious. “Hawaii, here we come,” I said, fist pumped at my side.

“Emphasis on the come, Matt,” he whispered with a sly wink. “Emphasis on the come.”