The Secret of Us by Liesel Schmidt

Author:Liesel Schmidt [Schmidt, Liesel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781474033589
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2015-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

The game, much to my surprise, was the most fun I’d ever had at a bowling alley. As many times as I had bowled with Matt, this was different. Charles, despite his natural talent for leveling pins and the swiftness with which he proceeded to wipe the floor with me, actually seemed to let his guard down and enjoy the game for the game’s sake. And while he might have mercilessly lorded his handy victory over me, he did it more so in the spirit of fun, rather than animosity.

It was inexplicable, this change in him; I could only hope that it wouldn’t disappear the minute he swapped his bowling shoes for his wingtips.

Despite the shameful numbers displayed on the screen, I found myself almost dreading the last frame as it crept closer and closer with each release of a ball.

What was happening?

“That was great,” I said, wielding a pair of chopsticks later that evening. “I don’t remember the last time I had so much fun losing.” I popped a piece of tuna sushi into my mouth and smiled at the man sitting across from me.

Maybe this would be possible, after all.

Maybe there was a way for us to be friends.

I gave Charles a sidelong glance as he made multiple unsuccessful attempts at attacking his plate of chicken teriyaki with chopsticks, feeling my mouth curl up in a smile. Once again, I found myself thinking that maybe Charles wasn’t so bad, once you got to know him. Perhaps we could find a way to start over, from square one.

He finally gave up, stabbing the center of a chunk of chicken with one chopstick.

I arched a surprised eyebrow at him. “Not as adept with a pair of chopsticks as you are with a bowling ball, I see.” I watched him for a moment longer, shaking my head with a small smile.

“Ha. Ha. No. I’ve never been good with these things, so usually I don’t even try. But your bowling inspired me to embrace my own suck and attempt the chopsticks.” The pile of rice he was trying to scoop up with his chopsticks seemed to be rebelling and fell apart before it reached his mouth, falling back to his plate with a plop. “Maybe I should give up, though. Otherwise I’m going to go hungry,” Oliver said with a grumble.

“Well, I commend you for your willingness to try, but I think you’re right. I hereby release you and give you my full blessing to fork it. I don’t want to be the only one eating,” I replied, watching Charles struggle. He looked to be on the verge of throwing them across the dining room.

“Not that I was waiting for your blessing, but I think you’re right. There’s a reason Americans use forks,” he replied, looking slightly relieved as he abandoned the useless little wooden sticks and snatched his fork off the table.

The muted sounds of karaoke floated down the hall towards the dining room where we sat, and I shuddered inwardly as whatever brave soul was up at the mike hit a particularly off-key note.

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