||You're Mine|| {Scrutinized: Tanner x Reader}

Chapter 14

(Y/N)

It doesn't make any sense.. even after years of trying, and coming to this place so often..

I still really suck at bowling.

For the tenth time, I watched as the ball tumbled down the lane, and anticipation built up inside me when it didn't wobble like it did the last nine times.

But, to my own dismay, I watched as the ball quickly swooped to the right, and knock down only one pin. I heard a snort from behind me and I turned to see Tanner sitting at our table, slow clapping with an amused expression.

I rolled my eyes and trudged back over to him. "You shouldn't make fun of someone like that." I huffed and plopped back down in my chair.

Tanner stood from his chair and grinned down at me. "From how many times you've been here, it's quite surprising how you show no progress."

He had shed off his long white jacket, leaving his crisp button up shirt tucked into his black slacks. I also could vividly remember the way he took off his tie. I was starting to think that he just wanted to get in bed with me at this point.

I felt dumb for dragging him along, but I just didn't want to be alone the whole day.

Olivia might not approve of me hanging out with random strangers after what happened.

At this point, I just want to find the smallest reasons to smile, despite losing so many people already. Plus, I needed to stay positive and determined if I want to have the BlueBlood Killer locked up.

Thomas, the FBI agent is risking a lot for lending me a computer and job that only people in the police force were allowed to do.

I watched Tanner closely as he grabbed his bowling ball and made his way up to the lane. I watched as he brushed his hand over his hair to make sure it was still neat, and then how he got into his bowling position, face perfectly relaxed, yet so focused. Then he brought his arm back, took a couple steps, and released the ball.

I felt myself cringe internally when he got a perfect strike. Again.

I glanced shamefully at our score on the screen above me, and stood up to take over again. "How are so good at this? Didn't you tell me on our way here that you've only bowled three times in your entire life?" I asked him as he picked up my ball from the machine and handed it to me.

"I'd like to believe that I adapt to things rather quickly." Tanner explained, bringing both of his hands behind his back, a little thing that I see often from him.

"Well, I hate that you can learn things faster." I grumbled, and walked back up to the lane. To my surprise, Tanner was right behind me, and without warning, he gently grabbed my left arm with one hand, and my right shoulder -- the wounded one -- with his other hand.

I could feel the warmth of his own body as he towered over my smaller frame. He leaned his head down so that his mouth was right next to my ear, then he spoke. Shivers went down my spine at the gentle, warm breath against my ear.

"Hitting a perfect strike begins with the very first step you take after you slip your fingers into the ball." He whispered.

He released my shoulder for a moment and pointed down to my foot. "Try to perfect a smooth four-step approach to the lane, starting with the foot opposite to your ball-holding hand." I did what he instructed, swallowing nervously.

Then, he pushed my shoulder softly, so that I faced more to the right. "Remember to face the lane straight-on, without turning your body to either side."