#Blocked Read online

  “Yeah, I don’t trust him either. That’s why I watched him walk them out and he did try to get in the car with them, but they weren’t having it. He’s talking to some other girls now. That Samantha though…” Kevin adjusted his beanie. “She’s a feisty one.”

  “Yeah,” Bo said flatly. “That’s a good way of putting it.”

  They sat there for a while, drinking beers and bobbing their heads to the music. Bo couldn’t stop staring at the brunette, who was taking a lot of photos: Photos of her drink, of her shoes, of the bowling balls, of the waterfall backdrop. And the selfies. She took so many selfies. And almost every time she got up she had the redhead take a photo of her. If both girls got up, they got the tall dude to take the photos, and he clearly wasn’t happy with that role. The brunette in particular was really good at posing, she really knew how to accentuate her…assets. It was exhausting just watching it all.

  “See something you like over there?” asked Kevin.

  “Oh, yeah. That girl is fucking gorgeous.” Bo pointed to Winter who turned on her skirt again before bowling, knocking over half of the pins. Of course she was being filmed, and she did a funny curtsey move that almost made Bo laugh—almost.

  “Damn, she is hot. That redhead too, man,” Kevin said. “A lot of good-looking people here. I guess you could say opening night is a success.”

  Kevin chugged the rest of his beer then decided to take his turn to bowl, achieving a pocket 7-10 split. He tried again and the ball curved right, ending up in the gutter. Unaffected, he sat back down and cracked open another beer.

  Bo leaned forward. “She looks kind of familiar, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe.” Kevin squinted his eyes to try and get a better look. “Yeah, actually, she does.”

  After a few long seconds of staring, Winter briefly glanced up at them, as if she could feel the attention. The butterfly in Bo’s stomach woke up and started flapping again. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

  “Oh, shit, I know who that is!” Kevin took out his phone and opened Nanogram, then handed his phone to Bo. “She’s that social media girl who has a ton of followers and shit. As you can see, I’m even following her.”

  Bo scrolled through her page and realized his stomach butterfly friend had duplicated to nearly a baker’s dozen. “Gorgeous,” he muttered.

  He handed the phone back.

  “Why don’t you go talk to her?” Kevin asked, looking at his phone. “According to Google, she’s single and ready to mingle.”

  “Nah. She’s too into herself. I can’t go for someone like that.”

  “Dude. You have an in though. Your family owns StyleSlap and she’s like always trending on that shit.”

  Bo looked at him sideways. “How would you know?”

  Kevin took a swig of beer. “I’m secure enough in my manhood to admit I love that fucking app. Where do you think I get all my style pointers from?”

  Bo raised his eyebrows, thought for a second, then lowered them. “Makes sense.”

  “Sure does.”

  “Damn, son! What the fuck did you say to Samantha? I’ve never seen a girl so pissed off.” Man Bun Matt walked up holding a huge platter of nachos. He pushed the bowling balls off the cloud, and they fell to the ground with a thud. He then pulled the cloud up to his chair, using it as a makeshift coffee table.

  “Oh, I just refuse to sleep with her because she’s intoxicated,” Bo said. “Fuck me, right?”

  “Lame,” said Matt and stuffed his mouth.

  “Yeah, you are,” said Kevin.

  “What?” asked Matt.

  “Nothing.”

  “Dude!” Matt’s mouth was full, and cheese dribbled down his chin. “I heard Winter Smith and that Mia chick with the big tits are supposed to be here. They’re so fucking hot. I’d do anything to get my dick even ten feet close to them.”

  Kevin rolled his eyes and Bo really considered taking Matt by the man bun and shoving his disgusting head into that damn nacho platter.

  Chapter Five

  Winter felt eyes on her but whenever she scanned the room, heads seemed to turn away. Eyes averted. Or was she just imagining it? Maybe somebody recognized her. Nah. She wasn’t real-world famous, per say. More like, mildly internet famous. She’d gotten approached a few times and fans sometimes sent her things, or drew her, or blogged or vlogged about her, or made their own posts and videos trying out her styles, but that was basically the extent of it. No big deal. Winter finally rationalized that if she did get any looks her way, it was most definitely the result of her attention seeking light-up skirt. Therefore, she vowed to only turn it on when she needed to get another picture or video, which she had basically captured within the first fifteen minutes of arriving to the bowling alley. It’s all smooth sailing from here, Winter thought.

  “I can’t believe Jeremiah is almost winning!” shouted Mia. “This is bullshiiiit!”

  “You’re doing amazing, though,” Jeremiah said, unsuccessfully trying to hide his pleasure.

  “Hey, you both should be happy. You’re clobbering me,” Winter chimed in.

  “Of course!” said Mia. “You’re the style girl. I’m supposed to be the athletic, good-at-anything-physical girl.”

  “I work out too, ya know,” said Jeremiah.

  “Yeah, but my boobs make it exponentially harder.” Mia pointed to her chest. “So I win in that contest.”

  Jeremiah sat down, defeated. “Well, whatever. Let’s just not play then.”

  Winter shook her head, watching the usual scene unfold. Mia sat on an annoyed and pouting Jeremiah. She kissed his cheek, then his lips. Then he tickled her, and all was good again in the world.

  Winter tried desperately to not think about Lyle when her friends got like that. Lyle, at one time, was actually into public displays of affection. Well, at first he was. After a few months of being swept off her feet, Winter was knocked down by his constant nitpicking, his backhanded jabs, his affinity to embarrass her. Such instances would always put her in a bad mood, and he knew to never try to kiss her when she was like that. Maybe I was too sensitive, thought Winter. But she quickly remembered what her mother’s psychiatrist friend, Dr. Ronda, once told her when she visited town: “Stop blaming yourself for everything that Lyle did to you.” Winter had taken that advice with a grain of salt because right after, her mother sighed deeply and said “Yeah, but it takes two to tango.”

  Her mother was never really on her side about anything. Single Child Syndrome—referring to the stereotype that an only child can become spoiled, selfish, and entitled because they get too much attention—is a real thing. But that definitely was not a syndrome that Winter developed growing up in Cassandra Smith’s household. Winter couldn’t remember a whole lot from her early childhood, but she knew there had to have been good times. Her parents were vivacious and hopeful and free-spirited. And according to old family photos, they made time to do things together, like go to the pumpkin patch and corn maze every October.

  Mother had so much to look forward to; she was attending a highly respected university for economics, modeling on the side, had a loving husband, and a little girl that looked up to her for guidance. She married and had a child right out of high school, but the marriage ultimately fizzled out after five years. Winter’s father moved to Norway for a job opportunity. Her mother quit graduate school and moved down to Los Angeles, deciding she wanted to focus only on modeling and acting. Her depression soon caught up to her and though she was beautiful, and hasn’t really ever stopped being beautiful, her entertainment career ended quickly. Lack of enthusiasm, maybe? Lack of dedication to the hustle? Lack of confidence? Cassandra then migrated up north to live back in her birth town and has lived off freelance writing work ever since. She did sell an economics eBook once that didn’t do too badly. For years, especially living in Oregon, Winter had felt like a burden to her mother. Or a reminder of what her mother lost. Thank God I was able to return her sweater before she noticed, Winter thought. It’s
not like she’s going to see my posts or anything. She could care less about—

  “Hey, what’s up? My name’s Bo.”

  A deep voice snapped her out of muddled musings. Her eyes focused and a trim yet muscular physique towered over her, holding out a hand. He had light brown hair styled into a high fade and a hard side part. She couldn’t help but glance at the stunning picture. He wore polished, brown, wing-tipped brogue shoes, black chino trouser pants rolled up at the ankle, a brown belt, and a white, buttoned up dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves and tucked in. His gentleman-like attire was juxtaposed with tattoos that covered his exposed skin, including his ankles, arms, hands, and chest. Thankfully, his neck and sharp, angular face were untouched by any semblance of permanent ink. Covering up that face would be a travesty, she thought. Winter’s stomach tightened but she tried not to show her impression in her countenance.

  “Oh, um. Hi,” Winter said and shook his hand. He gripped firmly and a bolt of electricity shot through her whole body. Am I shaking a taser? she joked to herself.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Her name is Winter Smith!” Mia answered. “Isn’t that a badass name?”

  The Bo guy smiled, flashing beautiful white teeth.

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I was kind of zoning out,” Winter said as she scrambled to her feet. “Yeah, my name’s Winter. It’s nice to meet you, Bo.”

  “Well, I just wanted to thank you all for attending opening night,” he said. “This place was something I thought up when I was a kid and somehow we were able to finally make it work. It’s pretty surreal.”

  Winter nodded a little too fast.

  “And I hope you spread the word so the building’s not immediately replaced by another marijuana dispensary,” he added.

  Jeremiah and Mia laughed. Winter smiled, but she was briefly distracted by the waterfall slowing its cascade of water intensity to match the slower tempo coming out of the speakers.

  “It’s like art,” Winter said, quieter than she intended.

  “What was that?” Bo asked.

  “It’s like art,” Winter said louder. “The always changing neon color scheme, the clouds, all this new tech stuff, the waterfall, I feel like I’m in some kind of enchanted, futuristic land.”

  Bo looked at her, intently, with piercing green, deep set eyes. For a few seconds it felt like they were locked into each other and would be stuck like that forever. She couldn’t help but feel a warmness inside her, and a subsequent embarrassment that someone might detect it.

  “That’s exactly what I was going for,” Bo said, still holding her gaze.

  His presence, his unwavering confidence, was so strong that it seemed to rub off on the people around him. When he looked at Winter, she felt interesting, important, even.

  “Yeah, this place is legit,” added Jeremiah, slicing the connection between Winter and Bo like a machete to rope. “And anytime FFS needs graphic design work, I’m your man.”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Bo, scratching his head. “You said you did some work for the family, right?”

  “Yeah, man. I really enjoyed it.”

  “Well, unfortunately I don’t really have a lot to do with that kind of stuff. I’m more, like, the face, I guess.” Bo stopped and thought for a second, before clapping his hands together. “According to my dad I’m just an aimless, wayfaring Earth wanderer with no future, so…”

  Jeremiah’s eyes widened as big as his girlfriend’s.

  “Oh, fuck. I’m sorry, guys.” Bo shook his head. “You didn’t need to hear that.”

  “No worries,” said Mia with a courtesy smile.

  Jeremiah kind of just grunted and nodded in support.

  But Winter… Bo’s words hit her like a blow to the heart. She didn’t know if she related because of her mother or because of Lyle or because everything just sounded more intense coming from him. Without realizing it, she was sitting back on a recliner, feeling dizzy.

  “You okay?” Bo asked. He crouched down, concerned. “Do you need me to call somebody?”

  “Oh, no. Just feeling a little lightheaded.” Winter forced a laugh. “Getting over a cold, you know.”

  He nodded but squinted his eyes as if to analyze if she was lying or not.

  Mia was already sitting next to Winter, opening a water bottle. “Oh, this happens from time to time.”

  And Mia wasn’t lying. Winter often had things wrong with her. Phantom colds. Dizzy spells. Random sharp pains in random spots of her body. It usually happened when she was under some kind of pressure, though. Like the time she had a video diary due for a local magazine’s website at the same time she found out her father had a whole other family on the other side of the world. Or the day she decided she wasn’t going to college and had to tell her mother. Or, of course, the time she had to accept her father was dead. That was a particularly bad one, in which she broke out in a rash, got vertigo, and contracted the flu, all at once. Dr. Ronda diagnosed Winter with a mild form of “somatic amplification disorder,” triggered by stress. In other words, she was a hypochondriac.

  “Oh, don’t worry, man. We can take it from here,” Jeremiah assured Bo. “I’m sure you have other people to meet.”

  Bo gently took Winter’s hand in both of his. That initial jolt of electricity morphed into a steadfast, soothing current that flowed back and forth between them. Somehow, the room had stopped spinning the moment she realized how warm and comforting, and sturdy, his hands felt.

  “If you need anything, Winter,” he said earnestly, “don’t hesitate to ask.”

  Though the music changed, blasting another bass-heavy track, Winter could not only hear him clearly, she examined each word and syllable formed on his lips. Lips she wished she could press to her own. His green eyes, framed by his brooding, dark eyebrows, seemed to shimmer with the changing brightness of the video screens. Winter was convinced she was dreaming.

  Maybe this isn’t some techy-artsy bowling alley, she told herself, but instead some temporary, imagined, wonderland that’s gonna disappear the second I wake up.

  Bo finally stood up and let go of her hand, and Winter could do nothing but look away. Mia rubbed her back and encouraged her to drink from the water bottle.

  “Ay, man,” Winter heard Bo say. “You got a card? Cuz I can still talk you up to my old man.”

  “Oh, yeah. For sure,” Winter heard Jeremiah say. “I’d really appreciate that.”

  When she finally looked up, Bo was gone. And yes, she knew it was crazy, but it felt like a piece of her had gone with him.

  Chapter Six

  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” Bo said, firmly.

  Kevin had just bowled a turn, fist-pumping the air as the last pin fell over. He spun around in good spirits, until he saw Bo’s anxious expression. “You okay, man?”

  There were two unfamiliar, pretty girls sitting at their lane. At least, Bo guessed they were pretty, since he was too foggy-headed to understand what ‘pretty’ even meant. He was consumed by her. The dark-haired brunette with the light-up skirt. The sweet, beautiful woman he’d just met and felt a tinge of nervousness around, like he would say the wrong thing. Which of course he did. The girl with a cold hand that trembled when he held it, that looked straight into his soul when he allowed himself to look back.

  Who the fuck was I back there? he thought. That person back there should get his ass handed to him by someone like me. ‘Someone like me?’ Who the fuck am I anyway? He tried to shake her off, like he would shake off his raincoat before hanging it up to dry. But he couldn’t. She stuck to him. Seeped into him. It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. Winter Smith. Winter Smith. He said her name over and over in his head like a mantra. Gorgeous…Winter…Smith.

  He imagined telling his parents about her. He could see the vacancy in their eyes. His dad slapping him on the back on the way to locking himself in his office all day. “Okay, playboy,” his dad would say to him, in that condescending, snarky, don’t-give-a-shit tone. r />
  “So, how was meeting Winter Smith? Was she as cool as she seems?” Kevin asked.

  “What the fuck? You met Winter Smith?” Matt walked away from his ball as it crawled down the lane. “Where is she?”

  One of the new girls, the one in the tightest jeans Bo had ever seen, pointed to the other side of the alley. Matt jerked his head to look.

  “Yeah,” said the other girl wearing a long black and white striped dress, “Winter and Mia are in lane two or three or whatever. We were gonna say howdy, but they don’t look so, I don’t know, howdy-able, I guess?”

  Bo closed his eyes and took deep breaths and tried to defrag his mind. Shotgun meditation was one of the only coping mechanisms that his mom taught him as a child, when she first realized he had anger issues. Meditation usually worked, but that night, it didn’t make a dent on his ever increasing uneasiness.

  “Hell, yeah! Come on! Now is always the best time!” said Matt, giddily.

  The two girls stood up, happy to have an escort to meet their social influencer idols.

  Bo watched the three practically skip toward their victims. He wanted to run after them and act as bodyguard in his own place of business. But he knew that’d be a bad idea. His mom told him that if he ever wanted to prove he could run a business, he had to avoid fights, stay away from scandals, and overall, just not embarrass the family name. Then conceivably, maybe, possibly, he’d be given a controlling stake of FFS Industries. “It’s your last chance,” Mom reminded him, only a week before. “Your siblings have their own things going for them and are willing to hand over the reins to their baby brother. Don’t. Mess. This. Up.”

  His ma always got right to the point.

  Instead, Bo just stood there witnessing the horror show unfold (yep, he was being a little dramatic) before his very eyes. Matt, the oblivious asshole that he was, interrupting Winter and Mia’s conversation, spouting something out of his punchable face.