Tutoring the Bad Boy

And Now I Have to Figure Out How to Actually Throw the Ball, Right?

A/N this would have been up last night, but I almost fell asleep on top of my laptop, so nah.

<.><.><.><.><.><.><.><.>

*Kaitlyn MacDonald*

After I wash my face of the tears and change into something suitable for public, Drew and I get into his car because, and I quote, "there's no way you're driving, Kaitlyn".

Whatever.

He pulls out of my driveway and heads down the road, fiddling with the radio at the same time. I slap his hand away.

"What was that for, nerd?" he questions, a slight smile on his face.

"It's distracting you from the road, jerk," I retort, crossing my arms with a huff. "I'd like to return home today, preferably in one piece and alive. Or is that too much to ask?"

He grins, keeping his eyes on the road as he presses the brake for a stop sign. "Fine, then you can be DJ for this trip. But, my word goes. If I don't like a song, then you have to change it."

I shrug. Better to skip a few good songs than die.

"Deal."

The first song that comes up is "Keep Your Head Up" by Andy Grammer. I start singing along, but Drew shakes his head.

"Nope."

"What? Why not? This is such a good song! Plus, it's in Pitch Perfect!"

"Gesundheit."

"Oh, you're funny. Fine, I'll change it."

I press the skip button on my phone, and the intro to "All About that Bass" comes on.

"This is still a song?" Drew snorts, turning left at a stoplight.

"Nobody asked for your sarcasm, Drew."

"Consider it a gift."

Our little spat continues all the way until Drew turns into a parking lot by a small building and parks the car.

"Drew, I know what a bowling alley is. You don' have to show it to me."

"Ah, see, but that's the fun," he grins, getting out the car and opening the passenger door before I can myself. "After you, my dear."

"Just to let you know," I comment as I climb out onto the pavement. "I'm a beast at bowling."

"That's interesting. I thought that as a child you were so scared of the ball return machine that you hid in the arcade for two hours and fell asleep behind the claw machine. Your parents almost called the police to help find you but you were snoring so loud they found you."

My jaw drops. "How did you know that?"

He shrugs. "Jordan's told me lots of things about you and your family. I'm practically an expert."

"That's not creepy at all. Now let's go inside, it's freezing."

"Need my hoodie?"

"You wish."

<.>

We step into the bowling alley, which is almost deserted. Drew steps up to the counter and asks for three games and two pairs of shoes. He gives his size (13) and turns to me.

"I'm an 8," I say. He nods and tells the woman behind the counter, who rings him up and directs us to our lane after giving us our shoes.

Our lane is to the far left of the building; we get to the table behind it and put our stuff down. I sit in one of the hard plastic chairs, and Drew takes the one directly next to me, his elbows brushing mine when he takes his shoes off. I elbow him back, a little harder, which leads to his elbowing my side. Hard.