Lover's Lanes

Teasing. Animosity. Mutual ignorance. Talking. Laughing. Friendship. Teamwork. Arguments. Closure. Crush. Admittance.

This is the recipe for creating a friendship and taking it to the max. It’s happened on occasion, but it only got serious with one person. And that person was Patrick Ghriffon. We were only teenagers, true, but I still felt that strong connection, the kind that happens once, maybe twice in a lifetime. We met through a bowling league where it was so small, everyone knew everyone else.

No, we did not like each other at first. Isn’t that how it always seems to go? We got on each others nerves and strove to be better than the other. But we eventually got a grip on reality, starting to gain respect for each other and talking. Before long, we were calling each other on the phone and going places together outside of bowling. He was a bit older than me, but it didn’t matter at that point. We were kids, we didn’t think about that sort of thing.

I began to realize that this was something more than friendship when I started thinking about him all the time. I began to crave his company, to not be able to function without him around, which was quite a problem when we did not attend the same school or the same grade. I talked about him day and night, causing my friends to call me names such as ‘lovesick’ and ‘obsessive.’ But I didn’t care. He was everything to me; I was head over heels.

I remember the day I told him how I felt as if it were yesterday. It was at the end of bowling, where we now shared a team. It was also the last day of the league, which was always rather depressing: During the season, I got to bowl and hang out with Patrick, a bonus in my book. This year, it was even worse, since he was moving away due to his father’s job getting relocated. Right when his ride came, I ran up to him and grabbed his arm, spilling everything in my heart. He looked at me a moment, never said a word, and kissed me on the lips gently. And then he was gone. I tried calling him, but no luck. He just disappeared right out of my life. I still remember his black hair, gelled into spikes, his round face cracked into a grin, and those dark yet shining eyes of his. I can still recall what his cologne smelled like, and I still clutch onto the taste of his kiss, the only one we ever shared.

That’s why I had no issues recognizing him when I looked over while bowling out and saw Patrick participating in the adult bowling league there.

I could feel my stomach churn and turn, but I tried not to stare. I doubted he remembered me. I mean, it was going on four years since then. The situation was done and over with, and he made it clear he didn’t want anymore contact with me. Biting my lip, I fought with myself on whether to walk over. Maybe he did remember me. He kissed me, after all. I looked over again, and noticed something that make my hopes dive into a tail spin.

There had to be at least six bottles of beer on the table he was sitting at with his friends.

Drinking? Patrick? This was unheard of to me. The Patrick I knew would never touch the stuff. “It must be like drinking gasoline,” he told me once. We both agreed we wouldn’t do it, that there were better things to life than that. I could feel my fists clenching. He really didn’t want anything to do with me. It figures; I hold onto these emotions for so long only to be faced up with this. He stood up to bowl, my fiery eyes following him. Before he returned, my gaze returned to the table. There was a bottle of water sitting in front of his seat, closer than the beer bottles. My eyes softened considerably. I hadn’t been able to see it before; I was too focused on him. I smiled slightly as I looked to the ground. He did keep his promise to me. He remembers me, he has to.

I looked up for the final time only to have my eyes meet with his dark ones. He smiled at me, eyes brightening. I grinned from ear to ear, standing and walking over. It’s time for us to finally catch up.