“Are you kidding?” the counter girl said. “I can’t wait.”
“Neither can I,” Quinn replied, glancing over at me and winking. “We’re all in for a treat.”
That was an understatement. It was impressive the way Quinn had bounced back after the doubt he’d revealed in the car. In fact, after the meet and greet with his fans, I wondered if maybe my advice hadn’t been as sound as I’d thought in the moment. Had I deprived Quinn, and his fans, of the next big star?
“Just so you know, we don’t offer refunds for rain,” the counter girl said as she laid out our clubs and golf balls.
Quinn and I looked up at the blue sky. This was Southern California, where the sky was only ever shades of blue or filled with choking smoke.
Perhaps seeing our confusion, the girl added, “There’s a thirty percent chance of rain.”
“Ah.” Quinn nodded. “Well, thanks for the warning. I think we’ll take our chances.”
He snagged the clubs and the golf balls off the counter and handed me mine.
I held up my ball. “Wanna trade?”
“Uh…” He rolled his golf ball through his fingers, the slightest hint of a grin. “Nah, I like pink.”
“No, you don’t. You only took it because you know I like pink.”
“How could I possibly know you like pink?”
I lifted up one foot and pointed to the pink swoosh on my tennis shoe.
“Right.” He scoffed. “Because a guy is certainly going to focus on the tiny details.”
“So, are you going to trade me or not?” It really wasn’t a question but a demand. I wanted that pink ball, and as far as I was concerned, it was rightfully mine.
“You know.” He stroked his chin, considering. Taunting. “I don’t think I will.”
I stared him down, but Quinn didn’t budge. Now he was just being ornery.
“Okay, fine. I actually like the color”—I glanced down at the sickly-looking ball in my hand—“puke green.”
“Oh good.” He perked up with fake cheer. “Then we’re all happy.”
Such a dick. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to smack him or lick him—that was how deliciously frustrating he was.
“Yes, so happy,” I said, one-upping his fake cheer. “And I’ll get my retribution once my vomit ball kicks your Barbie ball’s butt.”
Our banter did not go unnoticed by those around us. In fact, they all seemed to be swooning for me as if to say,You’re so lucky. And yes, I was lucky, but for how long? Would I have been better off to never have met him rather than the alternative—which was pining over him for life?
As we turned to leave the counter, a girl behind us in line gushed, “Tell your brother I love him so much. He’s my favorite singer of all time.”
Quinn’s step faltered before he composed himself and raised his club to acknowledge her request. “I’ll be sure to pass it on.”
Neither one of us spoke as we walked to the first hole. I even teed up my ball before addressing the elephant on the green. “I’m guessing that’s the hero of your story.”
He performed a curt bow. “That’s right, Jess. He’s my king.”
* * *
The rain started on hole eleven, if you could even call it rain. More like a very light afternoon drizzle. But the polite sprinkle did nothing to dampen our mood… or our competitive spirit. We’d spent the past forty-five minutes in the most intense matchup of interactive miniature golf I’d ever been privy to. Until I whipped his ass, I wasn’t conceding to cloud dribble.
“Yes!” I thrust my club in the air after the barf ball once again dropped in the hole after one stroke. “Another hole in one. Suck that, pink ball! How many is that again, Quinn?”
He purposely ignored my taunting in favor of a morality lecture. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you humility, Jess?”
