I grab my ball and hop off the AstroTurf, piña colada sloshing down my hand. “Yes, cheating with my telekinetic powers,” I laugh back.
Ben hits the ball. It bounces off the side of the little brick path, rolls halfway up the slopped course, and comes back down. We both laugh. It takes him five more attempts before we can move on.
“I didn’t know these places served booze,” Ben says, grabbing his beer. “Well, the last time I was at one, I wasn’t old enough to drink.”
“I assume they started doing it for the parents who come with small children,” I say. “You know, the ones that take even longer than you. They have to drink to keep their sanity.”
He takes my arm as we walk across a wooden planked bridge. It’s not the easiest thing to do in heels.
“You’re probably right.”
We stop at the next hole, and I step aside. “Go ahead. Let’s see if you can get it in the hole on your first try.”
Ben turns to me, a devilish glint in his eyes. “I always get it in the first try.”
Oh boy.
I open my mouth, wanting to say something sexy and witty back to him. But only a garbled, “I bet” comes out. He flashes me his bedroom eyes and sets the ball down.
I stare at his tight ass, thinking of it sans clothing with my nails digging into his flesh as he goes to town, pumping and thrusting into me. I get hit with a hot flash, and I know it’s not from my oncoming period.
I take a big gulp of my drink and shake my head. A group of teenagers shriek and laugh across the course. It’s a group of three couples, and they are all over each other in a typical juvenile public display of affection.
“Young love,” Ben muses, looking up. “They don’t know how easy they have it.”
“No bills, no jobs, just homework and parents to deal with,” I say. “But still, I’d never go back to high school if you paid me.” Unless I was undercover, like in a movie. Then maybe I’ll consider it. Maybe.
Ben’s ball rolls into the little white hole next to a fake pond filled with water so scummy the fountain is clogged and just spitting up bubbles instead of spraying the water into the air.
“You really hated it that much?” He steps off the course.
I drop my ball, hit, and miss. It goes into the water. I grimace and walk up to get it, using my purple golf club to pull it from the water. “I’d never go back, if that tells you anything,” I say. “But it was years ago. I’m over it.”
“I loved high school,” he admits and it doesn’t surprise me. He’s always been good looking, I can tell, and I’m sure he’s always been athletic and talented too. “But I wouldn’t go back either. College, yes.”
“Oh me too,” I say. I’d go back for a do-over. I fucked up big time in college. “That was fun.”
I get a hole-in-two and Ben and I exchange party stories as we finish the course. I win, by a lot, but I stopped keeping score after the fourth hole and it became apparent I’d dominate.
“Are you up for go-karts?” I ask Ben when we turn in our golf clubs and balls. I finish my piña colada and toss the plastic cup in the recycling bin next to the trash.
“If it involves you, I’m up for anything,” he says and I can’t help but wonder if the “up” reference has to do with his penis.
I’m so fucking mature, I know.
“Let’s see if your Mario Kart skills carry over into the real world,” he teases and buys us tickets. There’s not many people left this late, and the park closes in twenty minutes. It’s more than enough time. We get into our little cars and the attendant comes over to check our seat belts. Ben revs his engine, wiggling his eyebrows at me.
“You’re going down,” he says. Another sexual reference? Gah, I need to stop.
“So are you,” I threaten and rev my own engine, getting a stern look from the man in charge. Mine was a sexual reference, by the way. I love a man who goes down on a woman.
The green light flashes and we take off, passing the three other people on the course—who are all twelve years old or younger. Ben jerks his wheel, slamming into me. My car shutters and hits the wall, bouncing off the rubber tires lining it.
I laugh and hit him back but he swerves out of the way just in time. We fly down a hill and my kart gains enough speed to pass him. He catches up quickly and rams into me again, causing me to spin out and get stuck.
“Hah!” he calls out, smiling as he goes on. I have to wait for the stupid attendant to come over and turn the car around. Seriously, why isn’t there reverse on these things? I’m off again, laughing when one of the kids hits Ben’s kart, slowing him down enough for me to pass.
“That’s karma for you!” I shout as I fly by. Ben’s on the go again, his kart picking up speed, and he T-bones me. We both spin out, laughing. The attendant comes over, muttering about how this “isn’t bumper cars” and turns us both back around. We have one lap left, and Ben gets ahead by just a few feet. He wins, and waits for me at the finish line.
He hops out of his kart and comes over to me, offering me a hand. I climb out, a bit unsteady on my Harry Potter heels, and I stumble. He catches me, hands closing on my waist, and he holds me a moment longer than necessary, not letting go even after I get my balance back.
I feel his muscles through his clothes, smell his cologne, sense the warmth of his skin. I shiver. He turns, letting one hand drop to his side. The other stays on my waist. Once we’re back on the sidewalk, heading to the parking lot, his slides his hand down to the curve in my hip. Cameron’s words about wearing Spanx come back to haunt me, and I hope and pray Ben either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind the extra fat I have sitting on my hips, stored there and waiting for me to go into hibernation or something.
His fingers press into my flesh and I’m suddenly so hot between my legs. I hook my arm around him and rest my head on his shoulder.
“Thanks,” he says when we get in the car. “I haven’t had fun like that in, fuck, too long.”
“You’re welcome,” I reply and more of Cameron’s words come back, worse than haunting. It’s full-on demonic possession and I’m internally panicking that this “fun date” has put me even more into the friend-zone. What was I thinking? I should have played off the smart, sexy girl Ben thinks I am instead of letting my inner dork come out and beat him badly in mini golf.
I bite my lip and pick my purse up from the floor of the car. On auto pilot, I grab my phone and see I have a missed call from my brother followed by two texts. I never replied to his question about having a plus (or minus) one for the wedding. I have another “good luck!” text from Erin that makes me smile. I love that girl. I put my phone down and fret over being labeled as one of the guys the rest of the way back to my house.
Ben glances at me from time to time, the happiness in his eyes turning to confusion by the time we pull into the driveway. I’m about to get out and walk myself up to the door, because at this point I’ve convinced myself nothing more is happening. I’m such a good self-cheerleader, I know.
Ben beats me to it. He cuts the engine and gets out, rushing around to get the door for me. He takes my hand and slowly laces our fingers.
“Do you want to come inside?” I ask. “I have wine.”
He pulls me to him and my body crushes against his. The heat is back between my legs and my body longs to feel more. “Yeah, I want to come inside.”
“Good,” I blurt.
He chuckles. “You sound surprised.”
“No, I’m not, I’m just, uh, uh, glad because I want you to come in too in case, uh, in case you want to, and we, uh, can play games or something,” I stammer and my cheeks are suddenly as hot as my lady bits.
But not in a good way.
Thank the fucking lord it’s too dark out here to see the blushing. I need to learn to stop talking. Seriously. I say the dumbest things when I’m nervous. Ben’s fingers inch along my back, until the tips are just under the waist of my jeans.