Still, I’m trying to roll with it. I haven’t gotten a text from Alex, and I can’t see him right now, around the Putt-Putt setups, the countless heads filling every free space around them. I’m going to hang in there. For Alex.
And probably because this will make Lauren laugh when I call her and tell her about it later.
“So Thea,” Nate says. He’s leaning against the small bar staked at the entrance of every Putt-Putt station, his gaze raking over me. “Talk to me about what you’re looking for.”
I’m focused on my putt, adjusting my stance, trying not to spend too much mental energy attempting to reconcile the not-red-flag bio and photos in his profile with the man standing a little too close me.
And now, behind me.
I angle myself away, resetting my stance. “Oh, you know,” I start to say, not really knowing where I’m going with this. “I’m looking for fun. Something low-key and chill.”
That sounds plausible. If a little floozy.
Not that there’s anything wrong with being floozy. I’m just not sureI’mfeeling floozy. All the lust that’s plagued me for months seems to have shriveled up the moment I saw Nate and he drew me into a very enthusiastic, near-butt-groping hug hello.
“Gotcha,” he says. His gaze dances away, lingering somewhere for a moment, then back to me.
“What about you?” I ask, before I swing. The ball sails up the ramp, then down, headed straight for the hole, but then a windmill blade knocks it away. I groan.
“Same.” Nate steps closer. “Low-key and chill.”
I hand him the club, which Nate takes. Then he opens his arms and says, “Why don’t you and I putt this one together.”
My eyes widen. I can picture exactly how that setup is going to go, Nate bent over me, caging me in. I don’t like that picture at all. “I couldn’t take your putt!” I wave him forward. “It’s all you.”
Nate gives me a coy look, like he thinks this is some game we’re playing, like he thinks I’m actually enjoying it. “You sure?” he says. “I mean, I find that, when it comes to this stuff, themorethe merrier. Makes it morefun. What do you think?”
I tip my head, trying to parse his emphasis, but coming up short. “Um… in some situations, definitely. A good, you know, group effort, can be a game changer. But, with Putt-Putt, I think it’s pretty much a solo gig.”
He grins. “Solo gigs can be solid foreplay,” he concedes, before turning to putt.
I dive into my skirt pocket, then pull out my phone. At first, I’m relieved to see there’s a text from Alex, but then I’m not. Because the text just readsSOS.
My head snaps up, and like I’ve conjured him, Alex is rightthere, staring at me, wide-eyed, like a deer in the headlights. On his armhangsa woman who is either well on her way to shit-faced or deeply disinclined to stand on her own two feet.
“Kate!” Nate says, chucking the club aside. “Great to see you! Who do we havehere?”
“This,” Kate says, “is Alex.” She swivels my way, her gaze raking down me. “And who is this?”
“Thea,” Nate says proudly, like I’m his to introduce.
“Well,” Kate says, “isn’t this fun!” She detaches herself from Alex long enough to attach herself to me, curling her arm through mine. “You areadorable.”
Nate sets his hands in his pockets, glancing between Alex and me, looking pleased. I have no idea what’s going on. I turn to Alex, who’s searching my eyes wildly. I widen mine.What is it?
He widens his.What is going on?
I realize that Alex doesn’t know I was about to send an SOS myself. Which means, I think, he’s sticking with this totally weird situation because he’s assuming I’m somehow interested in it.
I extract my arm from Kate’s carefully, lifting my phone. “Sorry, I tell her, “just need to check in on the dog with the sitter.”
“Take your time,” Kate purrs.
I typeSOS TOOto Alex, then hit send.
“So,” Nate says to Alex, “how long have you two been on the scene?”
Alex frowns as he feels my text reach his phone, buzzing in his pocket. “What scene?” he asks.
