Annabelle hadn't wanted to burn the restaurant down initially.
In all honesty, she had been in a good mood. The food smelled great, the weather was perfect, and the boy she had met on Tinder looked like an absolute snack in all his pictures.
But t...
Annabelle had thought that swiping would be the hard part.
But, no.
It got worse.
As it turned out, talking was the real issue.
She had stared at his username all night. Clicked on his profile, so that she could see their bare message history. Then, nothing.
How was she supposed to start the conversation?
Hello? Hi?
Boring.
When you were a kid, did you ever think balloons were edible?
Weird.
Thanks for last night?
Too much like a one-night stand.
Eight hours later, Annabelle was sleep deprived, getting dressed for work, and staring at their message history.
Which was still blank.
With a sigh, she stuck her phone back into her overalls and threw her hair into a knot.
Boys could wait.
She had some bowling balls to sort.
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People simply didn't give enough credit to those working in bowling clubs.
"Sir, could you please tell your son that it is not okay to throw the ball at his friend?"
"No, ma'am. You absolutely cannot play in your heels."
"Listen, kid, I don't know what lemonade your mum makes for you at your home. But this is the lemonade we have in our fridge. Do you want it, or not?"
She saw everything.
Parents who sent their kids loose, letting them rip the whole place apart. Dates who were trying too hard to impress their partners that they would complain about the bowling balls being the wrong weight, because they were too embarrassed to admit that their throw just sucked. Kids who thought they were in a freaking palace, expecting her to sniff up their arse and listen to every bizarre request they had.
"Miss," one of them had said this morning. "Can I roll down the alley and see if I can knock all the pins with my body?"
"What? Absolutely no-- hey! Come back!"
Seriously.
Who knew that, one day, she would be chasing a kid who was tumble turning his way down a bowling alley?
Certainly not her.
Still, she had thought she had seen it all. Kids picking at their noses and sticking the boogers into the holes on the bowling ball. People throwing the ball way too hard, falling down and having a concussion. She had even had someone leave the store because they had a tantrum once Annabelle played Christmas music over the loudspeaker. When it was literally two days before Christmas.
