“OhGod,” I mumbled, flipping her my middle finger as I got in.
***
Itwasn’t long before I got to the course; a little sleazy hole in the wall that Iimmediately assumed crawled with high schoolers on any given weekend. I half expectedto see beer bottles and condom wrappers hiding behind one of the severalbillboards leading up to the place, and my expectations of the date began tosuffer. I parked the van close to the gated entrance, in the event that Ineeded to make a quick run for it. If he seemed at all like he was going toconveniently slip something into my drink, I was going to high-tail it the hellout of there.
Itseemed like a sound plan, as I climbed out ofOl’Rusty, and that’s when a younger looking man approached me.
“Um… Holly?” he asked with a worried expression on his face, and in his hand, Inoticed a picnic basket. He seemed adorably unsure of himself and reminded meof a lost kid who had packed his lunch before he ran away from home, anddammit, I smiled.
Mystomach flipped with excitement as he stepped closer, the friendly twinkle ofhis eyes dancing in the light of the parking lot.
“Youmust be Ben.” I extended my hand to him, hoping he didn’t notice how ittrembled, and he eagerly accepted.
“Oh,thank God. I have no idea how this blind date stuff works. I didn’t want tocome up to the wrong woman and scare the hell out of her, you know?” He wasflustered, and God help me, he really was cute.
Benwas obviously a few years younger, and the slight hint of a goatee on his chindidn’t help to make his baby face look any older. His dirty blonde hair wasscruffy in a way that made him look simultaneously messy and put together. Hewas decently tall without the threat of killing me had a strong wind come alongto blow him over, and from the looks of things, he had a pretty nice, slightlyabove average build. But what really made him stand out were his striking greeneyes, and even in the dim lighting of the parking lot, they reminded me oflucid gem stones.
“Doyou play mini golf?” he asked, feeling a little less flustered and a lot bolderas he took my hand in his, leading me towards the entrance of the golf course.I noticed that I felt nothing but his warm, slightly clammy hand engulfingmine. No sparks, no fireworks, no nothing that would set him apart from anyother guy, but he felt comfortable. I could settle for comfortable.
Ishook my head in response with a smile, feeling playful and shy and incrediblyintrigued as to where the night was going to take me. At this, his eyeswidened, as though it were totally inconceivable for someone to not partake inminiature golf on the regular. I half expected for him to say something aboutit being the most incredible pastime ever, that I was seriously missing out,and that if I was interested, I could join his league.
Ifthere were, in fact, miniature golf leagues.
Instead,he asked, “Have you ever played?” I responded with a nod and a little smile,and he grinned. “Well, I hope you’re ready to have your ass kicked, because I’mliterally here every single weekend.”
Well,that was certainly something to brag about.
Isuppressed a sarcastic giggle as we approached the counter and a young man withthe furriest brows I had ever seen acknowledged Ben by name.
“Ben!How’s it going, man? What can I get you? The usual?”
Hehas a usual. At a mini golf place.
Bensmiled at me, and then turned to smile at Caterpillar Brows. “Well, I’ll havemy usual, and maybe a—hmmm, you know what?” He eyed me carefully, clearly calculatingsomething in his head as his pursed lips moved from side to side. “Give me apurple handle. That might be good for Holly here.”
“Holly,huh?” Caterpillar Brows said, glancing at me before giving Ben a wink thatdidn’t exactly ooze class. He grabbed two clubs from behind the counter. “NoKaylee today?”
Kaylee?Who the hell is Kaylee?
Iguess I was due to date a man-whore. I had dated a gay man and a world-classasshole, so why not add a player to the list? My stomach sank withdisappointment as I shifted uncomfortably in my shoes.
“Nah,she’s with my mother tonight,” Ben replied, as though the idea of this guy justcasually mentioning the name of another woman was a totally normal thing to dowhile on a date.
Ifelt nauseous. What the hell had Mark done to me?
Hollyfreakin’ Hughes. The other woman.
Bentook the clubs, handing me the one with the purple handle and said, “See howthat one feels to you. You might need something a little taller.”
Itook the club and positioned myself in my most professional golf stance, whichwas apparently all wrong. Ben laughed, a little attractive arrogance seepingthrough, and stood behind me with his hands over mine, moving them into theproper alignment to correctly hold the club. My back and shoulders pressedagainst his chest, his arms taut against mine. My lips parted, inhaling andexhaling loudly, as he helped me test it out by winding our arms back, movingwith me, and taking a faux swing at absolutely nothing.
“Howdid that feel?” Ben asked, placing a warm hand on my shoulder, rounding to faceme with his endearing smile and emerald eyes.
“W-what?”I asked, my cheeks burning from the rush of intimate contact.
Hesmiled, his own face turning a brighter shade of pink. “The club. Is it okay?”
Embarrassed,I bobbed my head rapidly, confirming his original assessment and hoping theshaking would knock some sense into me. Who gets turned on by mini golf?
