Asher tips his head back and laughs with his whole body. Something about it makes me smile.
“You aren’t wrong, Songbird. You aren’t wrong. Do you want to go first, or do you want me to?”
“You do it,” I tell him as I take a sip of my drink.
“I don’t know how you can drink that. Pineapple is the devil,” he says as he picks up an axe.
I freeze, my drink halfway to my lips. “Uh, when you say the devil, do you mean you think it’s gross, or do you mean that in the literal sense? Like, are you allergic to it, and if I kiss you, I need to be prepared to call 9-1-1?”
Asher ignores me and walks up to the line. He throws the axe, hitting just north of the bullseye.
“Asher, do I need to order another drink?” I ask when he turns back around.
“Relax, baby, I’m not allergic. I’m just not a fan of the fruit, is all. It kind of makes my mouth itchy.”
“Uh, hate to break it to you, my guy, but that means you’re allergic.” I push the drink away from me.
“It’s never sent me to the hospital. You’re fine, I swear,” he says as he pushes it back toward me.
I eye the drink. I fucking love pineapple. Like, I could eat it morning, noon, and night.
Shit, this is going to suck to give it up.
Then again, I can always eat it like it’s going out of style when he’s gone doing club business.
“Baby, it’s not that deep,” he says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Uh…yeah, it is. I’m not going to be selfish and keep mixing my drink with something that could cause you a hospital visit. Changing my mixer is the least I could do.”
His eyes soften. “You’re too sweet, you know that.”
I scoff as I push off the table. “Don’t lie. We both know I’m not sweet.”
I go and grab an axe. Walking up to the line, I take a deep breath as I raise it above my head with two hands. Then I fling it down the line. I watch as it rotates over and over until it hits the target on the bottom side of the bullseye.
Well, shit, I wasn’t expecting that.
“Damn, baby, look at you.”
“I won’t lie, I was just hoping I hit the target,” I tell him honestly, making him laugh.
“Come on, let’s grab them and see if you can do it again or if it was just a fluke.”
ASHER
“Woo-hoo! Suck it, Asher!” my girl cheers as she dances around on the mini golf course.
People look our way, but she gives zero fucks, which only makes me smile harder.
The only thing she cares about right now is that she’s absolutely slaughtering me in mini golf.
“You never told me you were a professional,” I tease when I walk toward her.
“You never asked.” She winks.
We head down the little putting green and grab our balls before heading toward the next hole.
“I wonder if they have the guards or whatever the hell they are called.”
