Nine Years Ago

The pins crashing against the hardwood of the lane rang out through the entire bowling alley, and Jamison patted himself on the back as he walked back to our table.

“Take that, motherfuckers.” His big body, that of an outside linebacker, squeezed into the booth.

A few of the girls squealed, and two empty beer bottles tipped over. The end of the lane was littered with people, shoes, and drinks, making it difficult to move. We occupied almost half of Bowl-O-Rama, the football team having had the great idea to take over the local spot because we were bored with the downtown bars on the weekend. And we were all competitive as hell, so there was that.

With us came other guys friends, groupies, actual girlfriends, and other groups of college students who had heard we were taking over and just wanted to be a part of something.

I sat in the middle of it all, Demi under my arm, ruling roost amongst my teammates. “You piece of shit, you’re not going to beat me.”

I sent a cocky smile across the sticky booth we were all crowded in, and a couple of the guys raised a beer to me.

“Your team ain’t shit, Shaw,” he rumbled, slamming a shot back.

Looking up at the scoreboard overhead, we were down by only ten points in the last frame. And Demi was up.

“Go get ’em, baby.” I kissed her on the cheek, and she stood, myself and a couple other pairs of eyes staring at her ass.

Fuck, she was hot. We had been hooking up for a long time on and off, but lately, we’d been more on than any other time. So on, in fact, that I’d driven her here tonight and had spent most of the night trying to stick my hands down the waistband of her jeans.

She seemed a little bit shocked, and maybe uncomfortable, by all the public displays of affection. But, what could I say? Football season was over, we’d won a championship, and I had drank about five beers. I was happy, and horny, and she was a good lay. And she wasn’t bad to talk to, as far as indulging in conversation with women went.

Demi picked up the ball she’d been using, the look of concentration on her face kind of cute. She wasn’t half bad at bowling, and I was glad I’d picked her to bring tonight instead of some other girl. When she’d given me an ultimatum a few months back, to either be with her exclusively or never talk to her again, I’d given in. We hadn’t tried it yet, and while I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend at all, I could do the whole monogamy without a title thing for a little. Or, at least, I could try.

It had its perks, mainly the consistent, mind-blowing sex, but I had my whole life to settle down. And for a guy like me, I had my pick of girls like I had number of flavors available in an ice cream shop. Endless possibilities.

“Dude, your girlfriend is fine. Like, if you want to Eiffel Tower, I’d be down.” Our wide receiver, Nathan, sits down next to me.

“One, she’s not my girlfriend.” I chug the rest of my beer. “Two, I don’t share. You wanna see another guy’s dick in the bedroom, ask Jamison.”

Jamison chuckles. “Man, you’re missing out. Tag-teaming is fucking fun.”

Demi turns around, waving slightly before lining up to bowl. She has no idea what we’re talking about, and her cheeks would probably turn bright red if she did. That’s another thing I liked about her, that sweet innocence that was still so prominent even after how I’d tarnished her.

“And if she isn’t your girlfriend, you don’t mind if we take a ride.” Nathan was goading me, just like the rest of the guys on the team.

It was an unspoken rule that Demi was mine, but I’d never explicitly staked claim. I didn’t want to date her, but I sure wanted to fuck her. And what I wanted, I got without questions. Keep your star player happy.

But since we’d gone exclusive, at least when it came to me not sticking my cock in other girls, the guys had a bet going of when I’d actually introduce her as my girlfriend.

I was in on the bet, a hundred bucks put on the outcome that I’d never actually put a title on it.

“Don’t get cocky, Nathan. Plus, a girl like Demi would never go for you in a million years.” I smiled at him.

“Yeah, not when she sucks homeboy’s dick whenever he snaps his fingers.” Jamison snickers.

A pang of grief moves through me, because I’m being an asshole talking like this about the girl who really does like me when she’s only a few feet away, but I have to keep up appearances. I’m Big Bad Paxton Shaw.

Demi bowls, the ball curving a bit but straightening out halfway down the lane. It rolls and rolls, finally hitting the pins and knocking them all down.

She whirls around with a high-pitched squeal, throwing her hands up in the air so that her crop top rides up even farther. Bouncing over to me, I stand to catch her.

“We won!” she cries out as she jumps into me, and I catch her in one strong arm.

“You did it, that’s my girl,” I whisper, a growl vibrating into her ear.

She shivers, and I know I have her. I know I can ask her to do anything in this moment, and she’ll do it no questions asked.