by Lynn Stevens
“Andrea, what mistake?” Dr. Levine asked gently.
I couldn’t look at her, but I needed to talk about it. “During our senior trip, I ... I slept with her boyfriend Theo. But he had told me they broke up, so I ... Honestly, I don’t know why I did it. Theo was sweet and gentle and treated me like something special. Something he wanted to hold on to for a long time.” God, he was using me so hard. “He just wanted to show Vicky other girls wanted him too. They hadn’t broken up. Then she met someone else and Theo... he wanted to hurt her. He’d totally used me and I’d let him.”
“How does it make you feel?”
“Pissed off.” I glared at her. “I’m not somebody’s plaything. I’m so much more than that. I’m more than shopping. I’m more than gossip. I’m more than just standing aside and letting someone else do everything for me. I want to be ... more than this.”
“What things make you happy?”
My eyes widened. I opened my mouth, but the words weren’t there. Dr. Levine nodded and closed her notebook.
“Andrea, before next month’s session, write down everything that makes you happy. Even if you think it’s insignificant, write it down.” She walked over to her desk and pulled out a small spiral notebook. After flipping through the pages, she walked back over and gave it to me. “Here. Start with anything that makes you happy. Hanging out with your brother, for example. Then ask yourself why and write that down too. Together, we can figure it out, but only if you really want to.”
I nodded, because I couldn’t even say ‘thank you’ before I walked out the door.
I spent most of the night staring at the blank pages. What made me happy? I honestly didn’t know. Golf made me happy, but what could I write about that? Swing arcs? I wanted to take her suggestion and write about Brendan, but I wasn’t sure he was a contributing factor to my happiness. In fact, I was actually not happy with him. I grabbed my phone.
“Hey, sis,” Brendan answered. Judging by the sound in the background, he was at a party. While I sat here at home, he was at a party. “What’s up?”
“How could you?” I asked. Before I even knew what was going on, sobs racked my chest. “How could you do that to me?”
“Whoa, hold on. What’s going on?” The sounds of the party faded and a door closed. “Talk to me.”
“You left!” I was out of control. “You’re having a blast partying with your friends and being free. Guess what? I’m still here! I don’t have... anybody. Why couldn’t you have stayed a little longer for me?”
“Andrea—”
I hung up. My chest hurt from crying. I stared at the screen as it lit up with his picture. He had found his happy. I declined his call then turned off my phone. Dr. Levine said to write what made me happy, but what about the stuff that made me unhappy? That felt like a better use of my time and the notebook. I picked up a purple pen and started with Brendan. By the time I was done, five pages were filled. I wrote Theo’s name and filled five more. I wrote until my hand cramped, and I fell asleep feeling lighter than I had in a long time.
Chapter Four
I was up before Dad. After making his favorite hazelnut coffee, I juiced carrots, ginger, and spinach for myself. We had an early tee time. Dad knew the team we’d been partnered with for the tournament and arranged for us to play together. Technically, we didn’t need to do any practice rounds with any of the other teams, but Dad probably wanted to wheel and deal on the course.
Regardless, I was ready to hit the links.
“Looks like your mother set up the coffee,” Dad said as he strolled into the kitchen. He wore a hideous white polo shirt with wide red and blue stripes and khaki pants. I almost rolled my eyes.
“I made it,” I said as I sipped my juice and stared at my tablet. The weather was going to be almost perfect. The humidity would keep the ball from flying well, but it was early enough that it wasn’t going to affect our game until the later holes.
“Oh, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Dad poured himself a mug. “Is that what you’re wearing to the club?”
I glanced down at my purple running shorts and pink tank. “Yeah, why?”
“I know you don’t understand the club rules,” he said like I was five. “They won’t let you play in those shorts or that ... shirt. You have to have a collar.”
This time I did roll my eyes. “Fine.”
“Go change, then I’ll meet you there.” Dad lifted his mug, inhaling the scent of coffee and hazelnut before taking a sip.
“We’re not going together?” I asked.
“No, I have a lunch meeting and it would take too long to bring you all the way home then go back to the club.” He pointed with his mug toward the stairs. “You better hurry. I know how you girls love to take your time getting ready.”
Shaking my head from just another sexist comment in the Hoffpauir household, I took the stairs two at a time. Why did I set myself up like that? Oh yeah, to prove that things hadn’t changed overnight. My perfectly chosen club approved outfit lay on my bed. I’d only worn the shorts and tank to irritate my father. I pulled them off and put on a powder blue sleeveless polo and white shorts.
Dad was gone by the time I got back to the kitchen. I loaded my clubs into the Jetta and drove to the club.
It wasn’t the most extravagant club in the metro area, but it was the most exclusive. The annual dues were outrageous. Nobody called it by its proper name either. The Willow East Country and Day Club had everything the elite of Hillsdale wanted: six tennis courts, a PGA approved eighteen hole golf course, and an Olympic size pool along with a clubhouse that looked more like a log cabin mansion than a glitzy club. Compared to the Hawn Hill Country Club, it was mediocre in size and fashion, but it had a bigger membership. I’d played Hawn Hill’s links. They weren’t nearly as well kept as Willow East.
I parked in the back of the lot under a willow tree. The Jetta needed to be washed anyway, plus a black car meant ungodly hot interior temps in the summer. A little shade wouldn’t help a lot, but it would help.
Stepping inside the clubhouse was like stepping inside a rustic old mansion. The log walls and matching furniture set the tone. An oversized chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling. The dining room and pro shop were just off the lobby. Behind the main building, the locker rooms for the pool and tennis courts looked like small log stables.
It didn’t take long to find my father. He was inside, chatting up someone his own age. As much as I was looking forward to showing him how good I was on the golf course, I was not looking forward to several hours of “good girl” and sexist bullshit. Maybe our partners would be more pleasant.
“Andrea?”
My chin fell to my chest. I did not need this right now.
“I ... can we talk?”
Turning around, I came face to face with Erik Perday. His skin was golden from the sun, and his blond hair was constantly messy as if he always ran his hand through it. Even though it was hard to deny his hotness, he was definitely the last person I wanted to talk to. Over his shoulder, Theo Tudor stood at the counter with his father. Okay, maybe Erik was the second to last person. Theo saw me and smirked, his green eyes dancing with malice. Asshole.
“There you are, boy,” Erik’s dad said loudly. It was as if he was competing with my own father on who could be the loudest in the club. He clapped Erik on the shoulder, harder than necessary. “You ready to golf?”
“Sure,” Erik said, struggling not to grimace.
Mr. Perday turned his attention to me. “Andrea, good to see you. Your father said Brendan wasn’t able to make it today. That’s too bad.” His gaze drifted down me, assessing the threat I guessed. Anything else would be just wrong. “He’s good enough to give me a run for my money.”
I smiled and stopped myself form curtsying. Stupid, right? Why would I curtsy? This wasn’t my debutante ball? Ugh, thank God those stupid coming out parties weren’t popular around here.
“Let’s go,” Dad said, standing right behind me.
> Great, eighteen holes of golf with the Perdays. This was my punishment for the whole Theo thing. It had to be. There was literally no other explanation.
I climbed into the golf cart next to Dad. He hummed under his breath as he drove us to the first tee. I just stared out at the course. Each fairway, every green, even the water and sand traps mapped in my head. I knew these links like I knew my backyard. Still, it had been a while since I played these eighteen holes. I hoped my swing would hold up.
Dad parked, still humming. Golf made him happy. It was the only thing that really did. He was miserable most of the time when he got home from work, but there was something about this game that turned his moods around. The Perdays pulled in behind us a few moments later.
“Par three on the first hole,” Dad said. He bent down to my eye level and pointed to the flag, like I couldn’t see it. “Just try to keep it on the fairway and hopefully, you’ll par and not bogey.”
My hands clutched into fists as I tried to keep my face neutral.
“It’s about two-fifty,” Mr. Perday said behind me. “The easiest hole on the course. Think you can handle it?”
I turned around. “We’ll see.”
Erik raised his eyebrows, but he was wise enough to keep his mouth shut.
“Brent, why don’t you go first?” Mr. Perday said offering his hand toward the tee.
I waited. And I watched. Dad sliced the ball to the left and missed the green. Mr. Perday’s shot was straight and clean, but it barely landed on the green. He puffed out his chest a bit more as he stepped off the tee. Erik’s stroke was smooth. His ball landed short of the green, but he was in a decent position for par.
Then it was my turn. I set my ball up on the same tee they had used.
“Andrea, why don’t you use the ladies tee?” Dad said with a chuckle.
“You mean the red tee?” I asked as I turned the ball so the logo was facing my club. “I’ll be fine from here.”
I took my three wood and lined up my shot.
“You sure you want to use that, honey?” Mr. Perday asked, followed by a laugh from my father.
Assholes.
I tuned them out and focused on the ball. My hips settled and my back relaxed. I inhaled, pulling the club back slowly. As I exhaled, I brought it down toward the ball. My body weight shifted as I drove the ball two hundred and forty yards, landing on the green with an easy putt left. I smiled, but I knew better than to say anything to my father or Mr. Perday. Erik caught my eye and grinned.
Dad made par, so did Mr. Perday. Erik bogeyed, but he really didn’t seem to care. I sunk my putt for birdie. I was in the lead, not that they would acknowledge that.
The next eight holes were tougher, but my arms held up. Barely. By the tenth hole, they were turning to jelly. I’d have a hard time driving the ball as well as I had been. So much for not lifting weights steady. I’d have to remedy that.
After the tenth hole, Erik surprised me. “Hey, Dad, why don’t you ride with Mr. Hoffpauir?”
“That’s a fine idea, son.” Mr. Perday climbed into the driver’s side of our golf cart, and I suppressed a laugh. Dad never let anyone drive his cart.
Dad started telling Mr. Perday how to manage the clutch as they drove off.
“Thanks.” I lifted my clubs into the back. “Dad’s instruction was getting on my last nerve.” I twisted my neck and imitated his voice. “’Now, Andrea, don’t get down if you miss the fairway. It’s got a sharp curve so aim to the right more. Oh and that last putt wasn’t great. You dropped your shoulder too much.’ Yeah, Dad, I sure did since I parred and you bogeyed. I’m up by four strokes.”
“And I keep hearing how a girl is beating me.” Erik got behind the wheel, but he didn’t start it. “You’re really good, you know.”
Heat rose to my cheeks.
“So...” he let the sentence trail off for a few beats as we drove to the next tee. “Did you get my texts?”
“Yeah,” I said without giving any explanation why I didn’t respond. It should’ve been obvious to him.
“Look, I get it.” He stopped behind Dad’s cart. “I haven’t been the ... nicest person on the planet.”
“You think?” I turned toward him and stared into his sea blue eyes.
“I don’t think, I know.” He sighed and drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. “I’m sure Rachel’s told you already.”
I snorted at that. Rachel was not my friend. Not in the sense she would tell me anything.
“Okay, maybe not.” He smiled and waved at his dad. “After this hole.”
That was cryptic. Well, cryptic-ish. Obviously, he trusted Rachel enough to confide in her and he was only telling me the big bad secret because he assumed Rachel had told me already.
I didn’t need this right now. We finished the hole, and I asked Dad if I could ride with him the rest of the course. He nodded, not at all concerned.
By the time we finished eighteen holes, my arms were spaghetti and my score was shit. Maybe lifting weights wasn’t the best idea. I stuck by Dad’s side until Erik stepped away to talk to Theo. Then I made a mad dash for the parking lot.
I didn’t want to deal with either one of them. There were more important things to worry about.
Like making my game the best before the tournament.
Chapter Five
After a long shower to sooth my sore shoulders and arms, I sat on top of my lavender comforter with my laptop and searched ways to improve my game. The first thing I settled on was strength training. My upper body wasn’t out of shape, it was out of golf shape. Despite playing here and there over the spring, my shoulders weren’t as strong as they needed to be. Running almost every day helped with the stamina, and my leg strength was great. I took out a piece of paper and began plotting a plan of action. It was three weeks until the tournament. School started on Tuesday, so that was a factor. Every inch of my schedule circled around improving golf. My morning runs would be less about stress relief and more about my game. Plus, I mixed it up with two to three mornings at the gym.
My phone dinged beside me. I picked it up, hoping it was Vicky or even Eva. My chest fell. It was Erik.
Instead of ignoring him, I figured I’d read the messages and then tell him to go away. But not in such a nice manner.
I opened the messages and read all five of them.
Erik: Can we talk?
Erik: I know you don’t want to actually talk to me, but I need to talk to you. Please call me.
Erik: I promise it’s not what you think.
Erik: Okay, since you won’t talk to me, I’ll do this the hard way. Andrea, you have been a good friend to me even when I’ve been a terrible friend to you. Let’s be honest, I haven’t been a friend at all. You’ve never treated me like crap unless you were with Vicky. And I get that to a degree. Whenever you weren’t around her, you’ve been better to me than I deserve. I’m sorry. I hope you can accept my apology and we can be better friends.
Erik: Can we talk?
I sat back in my chair. Then I read through the long text again. He had wanted to say this directly to me, and I had ignored him. Did he deserve it? All signs pointed to yes. Erik had issues. Big issues. Didn’t we all though? More drama was the last thing I needed in my life, but it apparently wasn’t going to leave me alone.
I thumbed in a response. Yes.
Erik: Myers Driving Range in 30?
Me: More golf?
Erik: There’s a decent putt putt course. Thought you could help me on my short game.
I smiled. Erik couldn’t putt to save his life. I sent him a confirmation then dressed in a baby blue tank with white running shorts. Since I had been pretty much sans friends this summer, I stopped worry so much about what I wore outside of the house. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, because I did. Looking like a slob wasn’t an option. I just didn’t have to look like I’d stepped off a runway since I wasn’t around other girls trying to look like that. It was a competition I no longer wanted to participat
e in. Love me or hate me, just deal with my comfort. I slipped on my casual sneakers, and pulled my hair back into a high ponytail. Good enough. I didn’t even bother with makeup.
Thirty minutes later, I parked in the lot of the driving range. Erik pulled in beside me as I opened the car door. I watched as he rearranged something in his Lexus. His parents both had money. His mom owned a chain of movie theaters, and his dad was a CEO somewhere. I hadn’t thought much about what anybody’s parents did. The only reason I knew what his mom owned was all the movies we all watched together when we were kids before any of us discovered sex and hormones.
Nobody could doubt how hot Erik was, but his personality had a habit of making him ugly. I thought about the last few years, after he and Vicky did it at a party. That’s when things went downhill. She was embarrassed, but he made it worse by telling everyone. On top of that, he acted like they were a couple when it was a one and done kind of situation. That lasted all of a day before the war started.
And I picked a side.
Maybe I needed to step back and reevaluate. The Erik I talked to at the course, he wasn’t the cocky asshole everyone saw. He was genuine, nice even. Doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?
I climbed out of my Jetta and made a decision. Walking around the back of his car, I held out my hand.
“Hi, I’m Andrea. Nice to meet you.”
Erik’s eyebrows furrowed, but a smile curled his lips. He shook my hand. “We’ve known each other since preschool.”
“I figured we could start over,” I said, tilting my head to the side. “Forget about the past? Cheesy, right? But I figured we could just move on from that crap.”
Erik huffed a laugh. “As much as I would love that, my therapist would call that avoidance and remind me that it’s not healthy.”
“Therapist?” My eyes widened.