I laugh. “Yeah, she has a whole list of places she applied to. Charlie still gives her a hard time about it.”
“So even though you’re headed off to college, the gang will all be there,” he says.
I lift one eyebrow, going for my sternest look. “We’re not talking about the gang, are we?”
He tries not to smile but fails miserably. “No. We are not.”
“Tell me some inside golf stuff. Something juicy,” I say.
“Oh, the tales I could tell.”
“Spill it!”
“Okay, so, this one time in eighth grade…”
We sit here for another hour while he tells me story after story. With the same group of people all showing up at the same tournaments over and over, of course there would be stories. Stories of parents cheating by throwing their kid’s ball back in from the out-of-bounds areas, stories of hookups between players from different schools and the not-so-private locations these hookups took place. Stories of tantrums and runaway golf carts and fights. But also stories of nail-biting finishes and pranks at hotels and sneaking into country-club pools after hours.
“I think you found your family,” I finally say. “Even though some of them sound like complete lunatics, they’re your people. I mean, I’m surrounded by a few lunatics, too. Nothing wrong with it.”
He seems to consider this a minute. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Never really thought about them like that. Just thought about all the things I missed at my school, like football games and parties on the weekends.”
My face scrunches up. “Oh yeah, that’s a little rough.”
“Weekends are prime golfing time,” he says, but doesn’t look too torn up about it. “It’s one reason I agreed to go to that party last night. I didn’t want to miss out on everything.”
“But you left early!”
He shrugs. “I’d been there long enough.” Now he won’t look at me. Instead he checks his phone and notices the time. “As much as I hate it, I really need to call it a night.”
I’m standing up, grabbing my empty cup and spoon and taking them to the nearby trash can. “No, I’m with you. I have to be there at seven thirty in the morning.”
Back in my car, we pull up in front of the Evil Joes’ house.
“Thanks for the ice cream,” I say.
“Thanks for ditching the band with me.”
I gesture toward the house. “I could say something really funny right now, but I’m refraining, since it would break the off-limits rule.”
Leo chuckles. “I can only guess…. Welcome to the gates of hell?”
“You said it! Not me!” I lean toward him and push his arm, laughing, and he catches my hand in his. He holds it there and then tugs me closer.
My heart is beating out of my chest when we meet in the middle, his lips on mine. He kisses me softly once, twice, three times before pulling away. I stop myself from grabbing him by the front of his shirt and kissing him again.
“Thanks for the ride home,” he says quietly. And then he’s gone. Jogging up to the front porch. I’m still sitting in my car stunned. Completely stunned. But there’s also a ridiculously big smile stretched across my face.
I realize where I am and where I don’t want to be caught if the Evil Joes come home, so I peel out of there like my butt is on fire.
It’s only a few blocks to my house, but I make it in record time.
“Oh no,” I mutter to myself as I pull into the driveway.
Charlie, Wes, and Sophie are sitting on my front porch, waiting for me. “Already finished watching Judd’s band?” I call out to them once I’m out of the car.
“It was the drum solo that did them in,” Sophie says, and then bursts into hysterics.
Now Wes is laughing. And Charlie, too.
