CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The bowling alley reminded Marise of her younger days. Neon lights flickered over scratched plastic benches, the air thick with the sounds of squeaky boots, crashing bowling pins and a mix of pop hits in the background.
Cass territory.
She was dressed in her leather coat, black top and snug jeans, her hair pulled back in a loose plait. She looked approachable and low-maintenance. She carried herself like someone who had no secrets, no dicey backstory.
“Cass,” Ted called from the far corner, where the lanes opened up into glowing alleys. “Over here.”
She gave him a small wave and made her way over. He was already seated with a jug of beer and a tray of fries in front of him. The group was gathered around—three others tonight. Two women and one man. The guy she recognized from the cinema night—Simon—was wearing a Jurassic Park hoodie and sipping beer from a pint glass. The woman on his left had a pixie cut dyed cobalt blue and a shirt that readScience Is Magic.The other, with a warm brown complexion and braids piled atop her head, wore a Tank top and jeans and was holding a bowling ball.
Ted jumped up and handed her a drink. “You made it.”
“I couldn’t wait,” Marise said, sliding into the plastic seat with a grin.
He laughed, already comfortable. “I didn’t think we’d get you twice in a row. That’s practically a relationship.”
Simon grinned. “Give it time. We’ve all dated someone we met at the movies.”
“I married mine,” said the woman with the braids.
“Divorced him too,” Simon added.
“Details,” she replied with a dismissive wave. “He kept trying to explain plot holes inThe Matrix.”
Ted gestured between them all. “Cass, this is Priya, and Neve. Guys, this is Cass Mullins. She’s a freelance science editor, reads obscure white papers for fun, and probably will destroy me at bowling.”
“Science editor?” Neve perked up. “We need to talk. I’ve got a grant proposal I’ve been avoiding for six months.”
“I’m expensive,” Marise deadpanned. “I charge by the number of adjectives I have to delete.”
Priya laughed. “You’ll fit right in.”
“Do you want shoes?” Ted offered, pointing to the rental counter.
“I got a pair on the way in,” she said, lifting one foot. “Trusty old size sevens.”
“Alright, bowling purist,” Simon muttered. “Let’s see if you can actually roll.”
They were bickering like old friends and Marise let herself ease into the banter. Cass was good at this. No pressure. Just laughs, eye-rolls, and charm.
She bowled second. Knocked down eight pins with her first throw and picked up the spare. Not a strike, but solid.
Simon gave her a clap. “Acceptable. Not impressive, but acceptable.”
Ted leaned in. “You should’ve seen her at the movies. She’s got ice in her veins.”
“Nerves of steel,” Marise replied with a wink.
They played two full games. Ted got steadily worse, Simon got steadily louder, and Priya managed a turkey and screamed like she’d discovered cold fusion. They shared nachos, dunked fries into shared sauce tubs, and heckled each other with the kind of joy that came from mild competitiveness and too much beer.
It was so ordinary it hurt Marise.
She’d forgotten what it was like to sit among people and not have another agenda. She didn’t have to pretend to be mysterious or seductive here. Cass could slip into the shape of someone who was part of the gang. She liked that feeling—maybe too much.
“Where’s your doctorate?” Neve asked between frames. “You sound like someone who wrote their thesis in coffee shops and cursed at formatting for six months straight.”
Marise sipped her drink. “Dropped out before I could start one. I got tired of unpaid internships and conferences where everyone spoke like TED Talks with facial hair.”
