All These Pesky Feelings

.Asher

“Hey handsome.”

At the sound of the sweet voice I look up from my phone. Delilah is heading toward me, wearing a green dress that shows off her amazing eyes. Eyes that look a lot like Brooke’s, I think, then push the thought out of my head. I’m going on a date with Delilah, not Brooke, I remind myself firmly. I need to stop thinking about her. 

I smile, pushing myself off the side of the car to walk to her. “Hey. You look great.” The compliment comes automatically, years of practice in dating kicking in. I walk around the car and open the door for her. She gives me a smile, and climbs in. I can’t help thinking of the witty remark Brooke would have given if it had been her with me instead. Stop it, I chastise myself. 

We drive to the bowling alley, Delilah talking a mile a minute. I try to listen, but my mind keeps wandering. I think about the last few weeks, and how for once I actually feel like I’ve made some new friends. Delilah and I have been talking and texting a lot, and she’s really growing on me. Brooke has been...well, Brooke. She still won’t talk to me, but the other day I made her laugh. Progress. 

“How are your parents?” 

Delilah’s question pulls me out of my thoughts of Brooke to more unpleasant ones. “They’re fine.” Still circling my life like vultures, I think. “They pretty much let me do whatever.” 

She nods. “Must be nice, never having them yell at you for some random shit.”

I wince inwardly. How many times have I tried to get them to do just that, to get any reaction from them? I feel guilty, knowing there are tons of kids who would love to have parents like mine, that let them do whatever and never scolded or punished them. But I don’t know, I wish once in a while they would care enough to do it, but however rebellious I get, they just brush it off. Not by lack of trying on my part, that’s for sure. 

But I’ve never told that to anyone, and I sure as hell won’t start now, so I give Delilah a small smile and nod along. 

We pull up into the parking lot and I park the car in one of the lanes. We head into the bowling alley, and ten minutes later we’re standing in front of a lane in bowling shoes. Delilah throws first, knocking eight pins in three rolls. I high five her, then take my turn. Gutterball. I turn to Delilah, daring her to say anything. 

She smirks, and I feel the need to explain. “I have horrible aim.”

“I’m surprised,” she says, “I would have thought you of all people could throw straight.”

I laugh, and she joins in. We keep playing, although it’s soon apparent that Delilah is kicking my ass. Nearing the end of the game we’re both laughing at my horrible throws. I haven’t felt this relaxed in ages. 

“Fine, fine,” I say after my third gutterball. “I’m awful at this. But it’s not like you’re an expert, Lilah.”

“Lilah?” She quirks an eyebrow, a move that looks so much like Brooke’s. 

I’m unable to hide the blush that creeps over my neck. The nickname just slipped out. “Can I call you that?” I throw in a smirk for good measure. 

She grins, a blush on her own cheeks. “Sure. And how much do you want to bet I can get a strike this round?” She throws me a cocky grin, the move reminding me so much of Brooke that I have to take a minute to push thoughts of her out of my mind. Again. 

I grin at Delilah. “Okay. Loser buys pizza.” 

Delilah takes a ball and leans into her bowling stance. Her eyes narrow as she focuses on the lane. Taking a breath, she lets it roll. We both hold our breaths as the ball rolls forward, knocking down one, two, three, nine pins. The last pin stands there, wobbling, then falls over. 

Delilah whoops, jumping up and down. I can’t help grinning, her excitement contagious. She stops her jumping to look at me, propping a hand on her hip. “You owe me pizza.” 

I smirk. “I do. You’re really good.” 

She smiles, looking up at me shyly. “Lots of practice. Brooke and I come here a lot.” 

That erases my smile. “You do?” I ask. 

She goes on, oblivious to my discomfort. “Oh yeah, she’s just as good at me. We have a lot of fun together.” 

“How long have you known her?” I ask casually. 

“Since kindergarten. She shared her juicebox with me, and that pretty much sealed our friendship.” She smiles at the memory, and I smile too, imagining a tiny Brooke in pigtails. 

“She was as fierce then as she is now,” Delilah says, “got into so much trouble.” 

I want to ask more questions, wanting to know more about Brooke, but before I can, Delilah cuts me off. 

“Something’s off with her, you know.” She looks sad. 

 I furrow my brow, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t really know, but ever since she went to this party she’s been different, more prickly, if you can believe that.” 

I don’t smile at the joke, dreading the answer to my next question. “What party?” 

“One of Ryan’s, in the summer.” Delilah stops, considering, “come to think of it, I think it’s the one where she met you.”

I go still, hoping Delilah can’t read what’s on my face. Of course Brooke has been different since that party. What happened that night was...I don’t even know how to describe it. I’m such an i***t. I should have checked on her, should have asked her if she was okay. I just assumed that after what I did she would forget all about it and move on. Apparently not. 

Delilah looks at me, concerned. “Hey, what is it?” 

I snap out of it, running a hand through my hair. “Sorry, I just zoned out.” I glance at the clock on the wall and swear. “I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta go. My cousins were coming to visit, and I’m supposed to be there to greet them.” 

“Oh yeah, sure.”

Delilah’s quiet on the way back, and I’m worried I did something to offend her. I shouldn’t have worried though, because when I ask her about her music tastes she starts talking again. When we get to her house I get out to say goodbye. 

“So,” she says, “thanks for taking me out tonight.”

I smile. “Of course. I had fun.” I’m surprised to find that I really mean it. Does this mean maybe I’m starting to like her? 

“You still owe me that pizza.” 

“Guess we’ll need to go on a second date then,” I say, hoping she isn’t annoyed at me for the Brooke thing. 

Luckily, she smiles, “I would love to.”

I look her in the eyes when I say, “Me too.”

She blushes under my stare, then leans forward and kisses me on the cheek. “Good night Asher.” Turning, she walks into her house and closes the door. 

I turn and get into my car, then lean my head against the steering wheel. That kiss felt like...nothing. Like the hundreds of other girls I’ve been with over the years. How stupid of me for thinking she was different. Then I think of Brooke, and how every time she looks at me my heart skips a beat.  

I’m in such deep s**t.