ANASTASIA
Walking back into the bowling arena with Thiago felt much more awkward and the sudden change was completely noticeable.
Just ten minutes ago, the entire place had been filled with the loud shouting and laughing of the players, but now most of the overhead lights had been turned off for the night, and only a few lamps remained on near the main desk.
For the first time all evening there wasn’t anyone around making jokes or filling the silence, and the sound of our sneakers on the smooth floor felt very loud as we walked back toward our group’s section.
Thiago kept his hands deep inside his pockets, and he walked slowly right beside me without saying a single word.
We checked the tables first, and I lifted up the empty soda cups and moved the trays around.
We searched the entire area around the seating booth, and then we walked down right next to the bowling lanes to check the ball return racks, but there was nothing there.
I began to feel a bit desperate, and I started checking the floor under the tables again.
"Is it possible you left it at the snack bar when you went to grab the drinks earlier?" Thiago asked, and he stopped walking and looked over at me.
"I don’t think so, because I remember checking a notification right before Cassian and Miller started their last match," I said, and I shook my head while checking my p bag one more time just to be absolutely certain.
We finally walked over to the front counter and asked one of the workers if anybody had handed in a phone over the last hour.
The employee was wearing a faded red uniform shirt, and he shook his head.
"Nobody brought anything up to the front desk, but I can turn on the main lane lights for you so you can see better," the worker said, and he flipped a couple of switches on the wall behind him.
While we looked around the corners of the floor, Thiago surprised me by asking how long I had been interested in sports photography. He was looking under a nearby table, and his voice sounded very casual as he broke the silence.
I guess he was trying not to make me feel more nervous about loosing my phone and I couldn’t help but smile before responding.
"I have been doing it for a few years now," I admitted, and I wiped some dust off my hands before looking over at him. "It started years ago after borrowing an old digital camera from a college friend during a weekend football match. I didn’t think I would like it, but I fell in love with the process instantly."
Thiago leaned on the back of a chair, and he looked at me closely as I continued talking.
Beore I fully realized what I was doing, I found myself talking about my photography business, my future plans, and everything I still wanted to achieve in New York City once my contract with the Titans ended.
I told him about my dream of opening a small personal studio downtown, and I explained how hard it had been to get regular clients after moving away from my college town upstate.
He listened quietly without interrupting a single time, and his grey eyes stayed fixed on my face while I spoke about my goals.
He did not judge me or tell me that my plans were too difficult, like most people I told would say, and his quiet attention made me feel incredibly comfortable.
When I finally realized how long I had been talking, my cheeks felt a bit warm, and I immediately apologized for talking too much about myself.
"You don’t talk too much, Anastasia," Thiago said, and his voice was very quiet and calm as he looked down at me. "You just don’t usually get the chance to speak."
A few minutes later, one of the workers called us over from the lane next to ours, and he was holding a small black phone in his hand.
He had found my phone tucked deep between the bowling seats where it had slipped out of my jacket pocket earlier in the evening.
"Here it is," the employee said, and he handed it over to me with a small smile.
I thanked him over and over again for his help, and I let out a very long breath of relief as I pressed the power button to see the screen light up.
The battery was still mostly full, and the glass wasn’t cracked at all.
I slipped the phone safely into my bag, and we walked outside into the cool night air together while the worker finally turned off the lights and locked the main glass doors behind us.
As we walked down the sidewalk toward the parking lot, I turned to Thiago.
"You didn’t have to stay," I said, and I adjusted the strap of my bag. "You could have gone home with Kier and the others."
He simply shrugged his broad shoulders, and he kept his eyes on the empty street ahead of us as we reached his parked car. "It is no big deal, Anastasia. Nobody should lose something important if it can be avoided, and I wanted to make sure you got back to the apartment safely anyway."
Before I could answer his words, my phone suddenly buzzed inside my bag.
I pulled the phone out and saw a new text message from Bellamy, and she was asking how the team bowling night had gone and if the players had caused any massive public scenes.
I laughed quietly while typing back a quick response to her.
Thiago watched me type the message with a curious look on his face, but he did not ask who I was texting as he pulled out his car keys.
"Are you ready to go?" Thiago asked, and he unlocked the passenger side door for me.
"Yes," I said, and I smiled at him before stepping into the car, and the quiet comfort between us remained for the entire drive back to the apartment building.