A/N: So. I had decided to do a 30 day prompt challenge to get back into the swing of writing. (Writing and I don't agree in the summer months - you would not believe the amount of fic I have started and not finished. Today I opened a document that had three separate beginnings of three separate fics that all went nowhere. It's been a problem.) Ironically, I was about a fourth of the way through what I had decided to write for the first prompt, "beginnings," when I got the news that HTR was cancelled. I'm heartbroken, ngl, but I will keep writing for this show until the end and beyond, because I honestly love this show and these characters and I will always have a place in my heart for them. And that is all I will say for now because otherwise I will cry again.

"So."

"…So."

There's a long silence, which goes unbroken until a limo pulls up next to the curb a few feet from where they stand. A couple in what looks to be their early twenties climbs out and sweeps past Stevie and Zander, leaving a faint scent of champagne in their wake. The girl's elegant floor-length gown makes Stevie feel woefully underdressed, and she plucks absently at a spot on her own dress where a bit of lace has come loose.

Zander motions toward the door of the restaurant. Stevie envies the button-down-and-tie ensemble he's in – it's not much different than what he wears to most of their concerts. (She does, however, take some comfort in the fact that a guy in a tux just walked by so maybe he's feeling a little underdressed, too.) "Shall we?"

"We shall."

Neither of them moves.

"You know, when I said 'shall we' I kind of meant for us to-"

"Yeah, no, I know what you meant."

"All right."

There's another pause. With a frustrated sigh, Zander rakes a hand through his hair. "This isn't us, is it? The fancy restaurant, and you in the dress, and… this." He waves his hand in the foot of empty space between the two of them, and she's not sure if he's referring to the physical distance or the mental distance but either way, he's right.

Stevie makes a face. "No, it's not."

"Well then," Zander says loudly, clapping his hands together with a sharp sound that echoes off the building, "let's go find something that is." Before she can react, Zander throws an arm over her shoulders, pulling her in close as he steers her back toward his car. She stumbles a little, finding it difficult to match his stride in the heels Kacey put her in.

"Zander, it's twenty-five dollars to break a reservation here."

"And it'd be seventy-five for us to go in, sit there, and have the worst first date ever as we miserably eat overpriced steaks."

"You can never be miserable eating a steak," Stevie informs him.

He opens the passenger side door for her. "You are your mother's child."

Stevie climbs in, reaching into the backseat for one of Zander's zip-up hoodies. She puts it on over her dress, zipping it up. It's a little big on her; only a few inches of the blue, floral-patterened fabric of her dress peek out from the bottom.

"Where are we going?" she asks as he starts the car.

"You'll see."

He takes her to an old, dingy bowling alley where the only other current patrons are a bowling league full of middle-aged men. Grabbing her hand, he pulls her through the haze of cigarette smoke ("you know, my parents might think twice about me dating you if I come home smelling like a bar") to the counter, where she gladly exchanges her heels for a pair of bowling shoes.

They take the lane at the end, all the way by the wall, and Stevie gets food while Zander enters their names into the machine.

"You're going down, Robbins," she teases as she carefully unloads her armload of food onto the table and proceeds to roll up the sleeves of his hoodie so they don't get in her way.

"Come on, that's like the most uncreative trash-talking ever. Can't you… is that a whole pizza?"

"Yup."

"And a basket of onion rings?"

"Yup."

"And a-"

Stevie throws an onion ring at him. "Are you going to eat the food or just talk about it?"

"Isn't that kind of a lot of food for both of us?"

"I'm hungry and we were supposed to eat like an hour ago."

"But…." He trails off, apparently thinking better of whatever he was going to say, and just shakes his head. "Did you even get drinks?"

Opening her purse, Stevie pulls out a few dollar bills and presses them into Zander's hand. "Go nuts," she says, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at the vending machine.

"Shouldn't I be paying for this?" he asks.

"Are you seriously going to spend our whole first date arguing with me? Go get the drinks!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

She laughs as she watches him run off.

Zander barely wins their first game, just squeaking past her in the final frame to beat her 104 to 100.

"This stupid hairdo is making it impossible to think," she grumbles, pulling bobby pins and clips and hair ties from her hair to ease the poking and pressure on her scalp. Finally, she tosses the last bobby pin into the pile that's accumulated on the table, sighing with relief as she shakes out her hair and uses her fingers to work it free of the hairspray. "Much better. See this? This is 'game on' hair."

There's no response. She looks over at Zander, who had been resetting their scoreboard but was now just staring at her with the expression he usually reserved for one of two things: his ukulele or a pretty girl. Her toes curl involuntarily in her shoes and she decides to wait to tease him about it until tomorrow.

She wins their second game, so even though it's getting late they decide to play one final game as a tiebreaker. Zander gains a pretty decent lead early on, and she's sure he's going to win (and not sure how she's going to live it down) until she manages to bowl two strikes in the final frame. After her final score pops up, cementing her victory, she lets out a whoop, rushing Zander and flinging her arms around his neck. Even though he's just lost, he laughs and swings her in a wide circle, pressing a kiss to her temple as he sets her down.

"I win," she says unnecessarily, shaking hair out of her face in order to peek up at him.

"You win," he concedes. She keeps her arms wrapped around his neck and stretches up just enough to give him a quick peck, pulling back before he has time to respond.

"Best worst first date ever," she declares with a laugh.

"Agreed."