He grabs the other corner, smirking up at me. “You’re wrinkling it more,” he teases and gives his side a playful tug making my corner fly out of my hands.
I fake a gasp as I shoot back, “I am not!” Snatching up my side, I pull against the blanket, wanting it to pull free of Clint’s hands just as he did mine. When I step forward, giving the blanket a firm tug, he sidesteps me at the same time, and we collide into one another. My foot gets trapped in the blanket, and Clint holds his hand out to help but try as he might, he loses his own balance, and we tumble into a heap.
For a split second, neither one of us moves. He is laid out on his back on top of what was the tower of leaning cushions, and I am sprawled halfway across his body. All is quiet until his laughter breaks the silence. “You are really set on the whole sweeping me off my feet thing, aren't you?”
My chuckle follows, and I retort, “Says the man who can’t keep his balance.”
“Oh sure, blame poor defenseless me while I’m the one laid out on the ground,” Clint says, as I attempt to turn myself around and end up on my ass sitting sideways between his open legs as he props himself up on his elbows. “If you wanted an excuse to cuddle, Dove, you could have just asked me.”
My mouth falls open in an attempt at a comeback, but it's lost on me as his hazel eyes crinkle with amusement. His salt-and-pepper curls are ruffled slightly, and his dimples show through the smirk on his face, so I do the only thing I can think of: I grab one of the pillows and swat him over the head with it.
“Help me fix the blanket, Golf Daddy, before the rest of the moviegoers begin to stare.”
His laugh makes my lips quirk up, but his hands on my waist, as I steady myself to pull the blanket from around my foot, turns me molten. His warmth presses into my exposed skin, and I bite my lip to hold back my naughty thoughts. Once I’m situated, Clinton stands and snaps the blanket into the air, letting it flow gently to the ground, and I adjust the corners.
“Grab the cushions, baby. You are already making this the most memorable date of my life.” I watch as he tosses the large cushions down. Shaking my head, I pull out the goodies from the basket. There are all types of things in here: toasted sandwiches, chips, pretzels, cups of dips, seasoned olives, chopped up fruit, and ice cold drinks.
“They really went all out on these baskets. I mean, I know I asked for the extras, but I wasn’t really focused on what was inside as long as we had some things to pick from.” I don’t know if I am trying to stay as far as possible from the divinely handsome man over there, but I’m nervous. Oh my God.I’m fucking nervous.He must notice because his eyes finally find mine, and he gives me a soft “come here” wave with his hand.
“Why are you so far away, Paloma? Come over here,” he says, and he pats the cushion he has all set up for me with an extra blanket rolled up on my side. I take a deep breath and move in next to him, allowing a welcome arm to reach around my waist, pulling me deeper into hisside. He smells like lavender and sandalwood with just a hint of fresh-cut grass. He smells like a cologne you get a whiff of as a man walks past you. He smellsgood. It doesn't matter if you are single or taken; it's a fragrance that forces you to turn your head and look. I want to be wrapped in it completely.
“So what are we watching tonight?” he asks, breaking my thoughts. How do I tell him the only thing I will be watching is him? How can I be in so deep already?
“I think they mentioned it wasHappy Gilmore, and I thought it could be fun to watch. Have you seen it?” I question him and he shakes his head no. “Well, let’s change that!”
We grab a few snacks and settle into a comfortable silence. The sun has set, and those around us are either really into the movie or chatting softly amongst themselves. The sky is shades of dark purple to deep orange, the clouds themselves are white and look pillowy soft. I shift a bit, gazing over the crowd of beanbags, blankets, and the rolling hills of the course. I’m grateful for the small amount of privacy we have. It feels like we’re in a world of our own here in this little corner.
My gaze finally makes it to Clint, which is funny considering I’ve been looking at everything else but him when he’s all I want to look at. I still don't understand how he can be so forgiving. It’s like he couldn't care less about our past, and I don’t know how to feel about it. I want him to be angry with me. I think it would be easier that way. I wouldn't have to fight with how I feel, I could cut my losses and continue to live the way I’ve been living, but now he’s back in my life and wanting more. It scares me more than anything else.
24
Chuck: Did you catch that stroke?
Lou: I must have missed it…
Chuck: It was one for the ages.
Lou: I’ll tell you what’s going to give me a stroke: this out-of-bound time loop.
Clinton swirls one of my pink balls in his hand, but he hasn’t met my eyes yet, which is so unlike him. Instead of interrupting him, I choose to watch his next move. His brow is furrowed, and he looks deep in thought rather than interested in watching the movie, his gaze looking straight through the television.
“Clint, are you okay?” I smooth my hand down his bicep, wanting to give him some comfort through whatever has him stuck in his head. “You just seem…not yourself.” I smirk.
“Yeah, Dove, I’m okay. Just have something on my mind. I’m sorry. We’re watching a movie, and I may as well be looking at the wall.”
I tilt my head slightly, giving him a once over. “You don’t need to apologize. Is leaving tomorrow getting to you?” This is the first time I’ve really brought up his leaving. I’ve not wanted to address the figurative elephant in the room. Not when I’m not ready to deal with my feelingsfor him, the same feelings I told him he wasn’t allowed to have for me.
When I turn my entire body to face him on the couch, he palms my thigh and gives it a soft squeeze. It’s something he does when I need reassurance or just to let me know he’s here with me at the moment. This time, I think it may be more for him.
“Dove, I need to ask you something.” I release a breathy laugh, trying to calm the nerves his words spark to life in me. When he doesn’t move his hand or return my obviously anxious laugh I look up to him, finding his gaze is already on me.
Taking a deep breath, I grab his hand and intertwine my fingers with his and say, “I’m here. Tell me what’s got you so quiet.”
“You know I leave tomorrow afternoon, and I plan to be at the airport in the morning.” I nod my head, not understanding his worry.
“I lo—” he begins, fiddling with the golf ball and meets my eyes. “I want this, you and me. You’re incredible and have become someone extremely important to me over the last several months, and I like to think the feelings are mutual. You still haven’t decided if you’re returning back to school, and I’d love it if you'd come to Europe with me.”
The words suck the air out of my lungs. If I say no, I lose him, and if I say yes—the thought scares the hell out of me. But losing him...losing him makes my chest tight.
