"I'm super competitive about...everything."

Farah had used her fair share of dating apps during her time at school, and there were a few characteristics of a man's profile that would lead to an immediate 'no' swipe from her. Holding up a fish, shirtless inside of a gym, and any prompts where the man's answer was just vaguely...off-putting.

"My biggest turn on is...girls that like sports and don't wear too much makeup." As if sports and makeup were mutually exclusive.

"I'm looking for someone who...isn't like other girls."  What is so terrible about every other woman on the planet that you want a girl who is like none of them?

And, "I'm super competitive about...everything."

It was less simple to explain why the last one gave Farah an odd feeling inside. She associated competitive men with abusive men, which sometimes she told herself was unfair, but then she thought, I don't owe any of these men swiping through dating apps my time. I can decide not to 'like' them for any reason I want.

So, she decided on 'no' for all those who deemed themselves competitive in every situation.

Sam, in all his sheepish grandeur, had picked Farah up from her apartment at 6:59, dressed in a pair of light wash jeans and a brown faux-leather jacket layered over a yellow plaid button-down shirt.

"Yellow is your favorite color," Farah had said.

"I try to be consistent," Sam had replied.

When they began to drive, Farah asked where he was taking her, and Sam answered with one word.

"Bowling."

"I'm super competitive about...everything."

Perhaps this would be the date that showed her a flaw of his; perhaps he was super competitive about...everything.

While Farah slipped into the size-8 bowling shoes that the kind bowling alley employee had given her after mistakenly giving her size-6 shoes three minutes earlier, Sam typed their names into the little computer by the bowling balls.

Farah looked up at the screen above their heads to see that he had put her name at the top, so she was up first.

She stood and picked up a ten-pound, bright pink bowling ball, weighing it in her hands. Satisfied, she walked up to the lane and paused for a moment. Staring at the ten pins across from her. Wondering if her date was watching her.

The ball collided with the pins, and they all clattered to the floor as the TV above her head blinked 'Strike! Way to go!' at her. She turned to see Sam clapping as if she had just won an Oscar.

"That was great," he said, smiling at her and standing to take his turn, "Are you going to wipe the floor with me?"

Farah shrugged, feeling his fingers brush through hers as they passed each other.

"I suppose we'll see."

***

Sam drove and Farah sat in the passenger's seat, convincing her eyes that they didn't need to consistently be looking over at him. Even though her eyes did love looking at him.

She wondered if he would kiss her that night. They had come close at the bowling alley a few times; there had been a moment when he finally got a spare on his eighth try, and then again when she had beaten him with a whooping 127-59. But it was only their second date, and Sam seemed like the type to take things slow and be a gentleman.

He wondered if she wanted him to kiss her that night. He had almost kissed her at the bowling alley but didn't want their first kiss to be so public, under harsh lighting and with small children screaming on either side of them. But it was their second date, and Farah seemed like the type who wouldn't want to kiss him on the second date.

I hope he kisses me, thought Farah.

I think I'll try and kiss her, thought Sam.

He parked the car in her apartment complex's lot.

"I'll walk you to your door."

They both exited the car and started for the front door of the building. Sam slipped his hand into hers. Farah smiled to herself. Sam was grateful she didn't pull away.

They reached her apartment door and Farah turned to look at him, their hands still together.

"I had a really wonderful time tonight."

Sam grinned. He loved that she had used the word 'wonderful.'

"I had a really wonderful time as well," he said.

Neither one moved.

Farah looked up at Sam, letting her eyes flicker between his eyes and his lips as a signal that she wanted to kiss him. That she was giving him permission to kiss her. He looked at her intently for a moment, his face close to hers.

And then he kissed her.

He leaned down and tilted his head to the side and kissed her. Softly. Wondering if she was alright with it.

When he kissed her, Farah was sure she had never had a better night.

When she returned the kiss, he became more confident. He stepped closer to her so that they were pressed against each other. Farah's back hit her apartment door. She didn't even notice. All she could think about was Sam's body against hers, one hand on the small of her back and the other on her cheek. All she could think about was how good he smelled, and how good he kissed, and how good it felt to not have any physical space between them.

Sam pulled away first, just barely, his lips hovering just above Farah's nose. They were silent, both standing in the hallway, pressed against the apartment door, breathing.

Farah exercised every ounce of resistance she could muster, to not invite him inside her apartment. She didn't want to mess anything up by moving too fast. She didn't want to sleep with him on their second date.

She was spared the duty of speaking first.

"Friday," Sam said, "Friday, let's see a movie."

Farah nodded. He still hadn't backed away from her.

"Friday," she nodded, "Friday sounds perfect."

Sam leaned down and kissed her again, this time quick as he took a step backwards.

"I look forward to it," he said, "Goodnight, Farah."

"Goodnight, Sam."