"Come kiss your mother goodbye!" Loid's mother called from the entryway.

Loid rose from his slumped seat at his desk where he had been pouring over his economics book. He wrapped the blanket that he had put on his chair around his shoulders. "What do you mean?" he said as he trudged out to his mother.

"I'm going out."

"Why? You don't have work today."

She put her arms out towards him. "I don't have much time before they're here."

He hugged her and kissed her cheek. "This better not be a date with some creep."

She laughed and ruffled his hair. "Oh, honey. It's not, but you're still not going to like it."

She kissed his forehead. "Take a break from studying every hour. I tried to ask Frankie to check on you, but he wasn't home."

"Yeah, he has a date."

His mother released him and batted her eyelashes a few times in confusion.

Knock, knock.

Mrs. Forger opened the door to reveal Yor in her cute red coat with a matching hat. "Hi, honey!" Mrs. Forger hugged the girl.

"Yor?" Loid said.

"Oh, hello, Loid. I didn't know you would be home," Yor said.

Mrs. Forger grabbed her purse before stepping out the door and starting to close it behind her.

"Wait! What are you doing with my girlfriend?" Loid said.

"No time. Love you, Loid," Mrs. Forger said.

"Bye, Loid!" Yor called from the other side of the door.

Yor stopped shuffling through the racks at the consignment shop. "Thank you again so much for coming with me today, Mrs. Forger."

"Think nothing of it. I'm happy to help. And there's no need to be so formal with your future mother-in-law. Please call me Bunny," the older woman said.

Yor's brain flashed snippets of a more grown-up her in a white dress, a more grown-up Loid in a tux at the end of a chapel aisle, and older versions of their friends and family in their best throwing rice as they leave the chapel hand-in-hand. She was certain that she must be quite red all over.

Mrs. Forger laughed. "Loid had a similar reaction. I guess you really haven't talked about the future yet."

Yor shook her head and looked intently at the dress in front of her. It was puce and would make her look sickly, but it was easier to look at that than meet Mrs. Forger's gaze.

"I like you, Yor. I think you are a sweet girl, but I have to ask because Loid is my world: do you see a future together with him?"

Her first instinct was to say that they were only 16 and there was time to figure that out, but it wasn't like she needed that time. "Yes, of course I do."

"Oh, good because I'm pretty sure he'd marry you tomorrow if I'd let him."

"You don't mean that."

"Oh, honey. You must have been through a lot if you can't imagine being loved."

That was an understatement. "My dad left us." She felt herself starting to tear up. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be crying about that after what happened to you."

Mrs. Forger pulled the girl in for a motherly embrace. "Suffering is suffering. It hurts the same no matter the intensity, so please don't apologize to me for your suffering."

Yor smiled. She could hear Loid in his mother's words. "I see where Loid gets his wisdom."

Mrs. Forger released the girl and sighed. "I wish he hadn't gotten it at all. He could use a little more youthful recklessness in his life. Don't get me wrong: I don't want him out there doing drugs or getting someone pregnant, but he could stand to go out more often and have some fun. He's 16 not 60 for heaven's sake." She riffled through a few more dresses. "I should thank you. I think you and those other friends of his are helping."

Yor giggled delicately behind her hand picturing Loid as a crotchety old man yelling at kids for being on his lawn. "I understand what you mean, but I can understand him too. It's hard to care about parties or drama or whatever else our classmates are talking about when you've lost so much. I think he wants to make sure his future is better than his past."

Mrs. Forger nodded. "I see you're also wise in your own way. I hope your friends are helping you have more fun too."

She thought about her friends and the fun they'd had at the amusement park and Camilla's sleepover. "They are. Loid is too in his way."

"I'm glad." She pulled a dress off the rack and held it up to Yor. "What about this one?"

Yor looked at the long-sleeved, velvet, sweetheart dress. Dancing in that could be difficult with her chest being as it was. The last thing she wanted was to be anxious all night about it falling down and exposing her. "I don't know."

"You're trying it."

"What?"

"Sometimes it's good to try things outside of our comfort zone."

Yor sighed. Mrs. Forger was nothing like her mother who couldn't come today because of work, but probably wouldn't have even if she didn't have work because she thought dresses and dances were silly things her daughter shouldn't bother with. "Loid is very lucky to have you as a mother."

Mrs. Forger patted Yor's arm. "No need to be jealous. I'll be your mother eventually too."

Yor's blush came back with a vengeance.

Mrs. Forger chuckled. "I'm sorry. I'll stop teasing you about it for today. Speaking of the future, what do you want to do after school?"

Yor took a stabilizing breath. What did she want to do? "I suppose I want a quiet life. I don't want to be anyone famous or too important. Just a simple life in a home with my husband and children and probably a dog."

Mrs. Forger bit back a teasing comment about who the husband was that the girl was picturing. "That's a good goal. I think you're on the right track to achieve it."

"Thank you. I hope I am."

"And I think I'm on track to having a kind daughter-in-law."

Yor looked up at her slightly exasperated with a blush on her cheeks.

"I'm sorry. Okay, this time I promise I'm done. Let's get you in the dressing room."

Ludmila's grin was miles wide when her car pulled up to the bowling alley. Seeing her grin made Frankie grin too which he couldn't let happen as it would kill the flirty competitive mood he was going for. He tried to force his expression into a disinterested one but had to settle for a slightly amused smirk as he led her inside and to the counter to get shoes and pay for a few games.

She took more time to get out of her heeled oxfords and into the bowling shoes than he did which gave him time to appreciate her appearance. She was dressed in a green fitted A-line dress with a white rounded collar, knee high white stockings, a matching green knee-length coat, a white knit hat, and bird earrings. The outfit was obviously curated to make her look extra appealing to him which it succeeded at. He smiled because she had put in so much effort for his sake.

"You look nice, Mila," he said.

She looked up from her shoelaces and smiled. "Thanks, mi querido." She had noticed his black and grey bowling shirt, properly pressed plaid pants, and red argyle socks. 'It's sweet that he dressed for the occasion.' "You look nice today, too."

"So, how about a little competition?"

"Hmm. What's in it for me when I win?" she said.

"What do you want if you win?"

She held her chin as she thought for a moment. 'The obvious answer is that I want him to feel the same way about me, but that's not something you can ask for.' "I want a grand romantic gesture when I win."

That sounded embarrassing, but if it were in the reverse—Mila making a fool of herself at the ball with roses and signs and music to prove how much she loved him—that sounded nice. "Okay. And when I win, I want you to serenade me on stage at the ball."

She flushed. "Mi querido, you do know I'm not much of a singer."

"Mi reina, we both know that's not true. You took voice and classical guitar lessons from age two to age 13. So with excuses out of the way, best two out of three wins. Do we have a deal?" He put his hand out for her to shake.

She grabbed his hand to shake once before pulling him in for a quick peck. "Deal."

He stayed blinking at her afterwards.

"I guess you've never had a Suraguyan shake." She laughed. "Come on."

The first game Frankie won handedly, but that turned out to be because Ludmila was letting him get cocky as she easily schooled him in the second game. That meant that the third game was the tiebreaker. And being evenly matched meant that the pair would be reduced to underhanded means to win.

As Frankie was throwing the ball, Ludmila sneezed loudly, startling him into dropping it earlier than he intended. "That was convenient," he said as he watched his ball slot into the gutter.

"I don't know what you mean. When you have to sneeze, you have to sneeze," she said with a shrug.

He frowned but picked up his ball for his next attempt without further questions. During his second chance, a kid two lanes over loudly dropped a bowling ball just as Frankie was throwing causing him to get a second gutter ball. If he had been playing with anyone else, he would've written it off as pure coincidence, but he wasn't playing with anyone else. He knew that Ludmila was plenty capable of making the child distract him while maintaining an innocent façade. He shook his head as he crossed paths with her on his way to take a seat and her way to the dispenser part of the pinsetter. She looked sufficiently confused, rather she would if Frankie didn't know her like he did.

She skipped up to the lane. 'This game is mine.' She drew the ball back and began throwing. Her throw didn't go unbothered, of course, as, just before she released the ball, Frankie yelled, "you've got this, mi prometida!"

The ball fell limply from her fingers wobbling slowly down the lane and into the gutter at the end. "Mi querido, you're not supposed to cheer for me. We're competitors," she said.

"I'm just being supportive. I thought that's what good novios did."

He wasn't wrong, but she knew his intentions weren't right. "Sure," she said, rolling her eyes.

"You've been spending too much time with Camilla."

"Like you didn't deserve that eyeroll."

He laughed. "I don't know what you mean."

During her second attempt, he yelled, "That's my girl!"

This had an identical effect to her first attempt and left her scowling at him as she passed.

The pair continued to use cheap distraction tactics to throw the other off for the rest of the game, but the tactics ramped up to especially unfair in the tenth and final frame. Ludmila grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze before his first attempt and gave him a conciliatory hug between attempts. He scored a 5 for the first and 1 for the second that frame. Before her first attempt, he brushed a stray curl out of her face. The pair lingered there for a while longer than either had intended. She shook her head to refocus before that attempt. She scored a pitiful 3.

When he saw her frown, he said, "Let me help, mi reina." He brought her ball to her and instead of backing away stayed behind her to guide her toss. He meant to give her the win, so he did aim properly. However, having Frankie that close was distracting enough for poor Ludmila whose arm shook so hard that the ball flew hard to the left almost crossing into the next lane. She scored a 0.

He expected her to yell and accuse him of cheating which he had been doing, but instead she laughed. He peered over her shoulder to verify that she was laughing and not crying.

"I can't believe I fell for that. I must like," she said before stopping herself. That was almost dangerous.

"Must like what?" he said.

"Nothing. Let's tally the scores," she said as she took the seat in front of the their scorecard. She distracted herself with adding their frames up. "Check my math, mi querido?"

"Of course." He leaned over her from behind placing both hands on her shoulders.

She could have fudged a frame here or there, and he likely wouldn't have noticed except that she is still under the impression that he had a photographic memory which was patently false but which was easier for him to let others believe than the alternative.

"Well?" she said.

"I guess you'd better pick a song and start practicing," he said.

If she were pettier, she would point out that he won by cheating, but that would mean admitting that she bent the rules herself. She sighed as she stood, faced him, and put her hand out. "Congratulations."

He shook her hand once before pulling her close for a kiss. Her free hand snaked around his neck and her fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck. Her stomach growled loudly and interrupted what could've become a make out. She cast her eyes down and fidgeted her toes.

He laughed and she joined after a moment when she realized he wasn't laughing at her so much as at the situation. He pointed toward their seats, "Let's get our shoes on so we can get out of here. Does pizza sound good?"

She smiled at him. "It does. Thank you." Her mind tacked 'mi amor' onto the end, but she quickly dismissed that. She was only 15. There was no way she was already in love.