by Kelsie Rae
“What a brilliant idea, Marcus.”
Quin smiles tightly as if she didn’t even hear Marcus’ comment. It’s obvious she’s distracted, and I can feel the anxiety rolling off her in thick waves. It hits me right in the center of my chest, nearly knocking the oxygen from my lungs. Then I realize she’s shaking like a leaf. I place my hand on her lower back, hoping to silently reassure her that I’m here for her.
I’m unsure whether it works or not.
My intimate touch catches Quin’s attention and causes her to look over her freckled shoulder at me. Her tight smile is still firmly in place but seems to soften slightly when our eyes connect.
“It’s just golf,” I whisper under my breath, making sure she’s the only one that can hear me.
Her eyes drop to the freshly cut lawn. “It feels like so much more than that,” she replies, so faintly that her words are nearly lost in the gentle breeze.
Because we arrive later than everyone else, the rest of our group have already teed off and are waiting for us to swing at our balls, as well. From the look on Quin’s face, I’m afraid she’s going to lose her lunch if I don’t speak with her. I know that my only hope of getting her to open up will be in private.
“Why don’t you gents get going, and we’ll catch you at the next hole?” I suggest. Eyeing Quin subtly, I try to convey my need to talk to her alone.
“But I thought this was a team activity,” Ronny whines, obviously missing my hidden meaning.
Marcus grabs his scrawny neck and leads Ronny to the closest golf cart. “Take your time. I have my cell when you want to catch up.” He throws the words over his shoulder as he’s shoving Ronny into the passenger seat.
Thankfully, Jonah and Trevon follow without complaint.
As soon as they leave, I gently grab Quin’s shoulders, turning her to me and making sure I have her full attention. “Alright, Kitten. What’s going on inside that gorgeous head of yours?”
She licks her luscious lips, her eyes glassy. “I don’t know how to golf,” she whispers. Her voice is rusty from lack of use.
I smile encouragingly before letting go of her shoulder to tilt her chin up slightly. The different angle gives me a better view of her shiny, moss-colored eyes and her plump lower lip that’s slightly quivering. “That’s not a bad thing, love. Would you like me to teach you?”
I watch in utter fascination as she bites her lower lip. The wheels are turning in her pretty little head as she considers her lack of options. After a long few seconds, she nods her head. The movement is so small I would’ve missed it if she hadn’t already captured my full attention.
“No worries, Kitten. I’ll teach you. But first, I need you to answer one more question for me. Do you think you can do that?”
She swallows before nodding again.
“Why are you so terrified of golf?” I ask, smiling softly at her while praying she doesn’t take my question the wrong way.
She exhales on a laugh, the sound immediately easing the tightness in my chest.
“That’s pretty pathetic, isn’t it,” she states, scrunching her face for a minute before continuing. “Honestly? It’s not the golf part that I’m scared of. I guess I’m not used to doing things out of my comfort zone, and playing golf in front of a group of strangers is definitely out of my comfort zone. I just don’t see what this has to do with Gateway Guardians.”
“May I be honest with you?” I stare into her gorgeous green eyes, making sure she agrees before I continue. “The raw talent you have for Gateway Guardians is incredible, love. I’ve never seen anything like it. You’re mesmerizing and practically unstoppable as soon as you get behind a keyboard.” Quin blushes at my compliment. “But… you don’t trust easily, and that can affect your overall talent. As soon as we take your precious PC away, you freeze up. You’re not living, Quin. And you’re not trusting your teammates, either.” I smile kindly, trying to soften the blow I’ve just dealt. “Sometimes stepping out of your own baby bubble is the best way to live a little. You might be surprised by what you enjoy, who you meet, and the adventures you get to experience.” I wink playfully behind my black-rimmed glasses and try to lighten the mood. “Now, go grab your driver so I can show you how it’s done.”
“Driver?” she asks, her eyes looking like a deer’s would in the headlights.
Laughing good-naturedly, I lead her to her bag and point out the different clubs, explaining what their purposes are.
In response, she simply shrugs one shoulder and grabs the driver from my hand. “I have no idea what you just said, but you’re pointing to this thingy, so we’ll go with that.”
Her honest, yet surprisingly blunt response catches me off guard. It’s so out of character for the Quin I know. Unless she’s behind a keyboard.
I chuckle lightly before dragging her over to the tee and lining up her feet. I’m standing behind her when she bends forward, placing a baby pink golf ball on the tiny wooden stick that’s firmly planted in the ground. I bite back a groan as her perky little arse rubs against the front of my trousers.
I may have just died and gone to heaven. Or hell.
Standing, she looks over her shoulder, the top of her head barely reaching my chin. A light breeze causes her red ponytail to sway in the wind, and I’m taken aback by how beautiful she looks in this moment.
“So… what now?” Her eyes hold so much trust in them, I know I’ll do anything to keep it there.
“Now, you square your shoulders and get swinging!” I joke. I’m trying to lighten the tension swirling in the air because I’m afraid I’m the only one who can feel it.
Thankfully, she takes the bait, laughing lightly before turning around and grasping the club in her dainty little hands.
“Shoulders squared. Check,” she states.
“Good girl,” I praise as I wrap my arms around her slender frame and grip the handle of the driver. “Now you need to swing the club back and over your shoulder before cutting it through the air, connecting with the ball and twisting your hips all at the same time.”
We slow the motion down, practicing a few times before I finally release her. She gives it a go. And causes a giant divot in the manicured lawn.
She grimaces before peeking over her shoulder. Her cheeks are cherry red, and I have no doubt it’s from extreme embarrassment.
“Well that didn’t go well, now did it?” I tease.
She giggles at my remark before picking up the grass and putting it back in the giant hole she’s created. “Should I try again?”
I nod my head before ushering her back over to the tee. I stand behind her for a second time, my hands sliding across her arms and causing goosebumps to erupt in their wake. I smile secretly, as I note her reaction to my touch before I return my focus to the task at hand.
“Let’s try this again,” I whisper, my lips lightly brushing her ear. We repeat the same motion as before, but this time I let her take the lead, only guiding her when necessary.
The moment is surprisingly intimate, and I’m hesitant to release her. Nevertheless, I take a step back, giving her plenty of space to give it another go.
She wipes the palms of her hands on her barely-there shorts before getting back into position.
Her face is determined as she mumbles under her breath, “Here goes nothing.”
She takes another swing and hits the sweet spot, sending the tiny pink golf ball flying through the air.
Quin squeals excitedly then raises the driver above her head in triumph. Her hips do a tiny shimmy that’s the equivalent of a full-blown twerk session for any other girl in the States. A giant grin is firmly plastered on her beautiful face, lighting up the entire golf course with her contagious happiness.
“I did it! Did you see that? I can’t believe I actually hit the freaking ball!” She’s breathless from the happy dance she just performed, along with her giddy laughter, and I can’t help but join in her enthusiasm.
“I knew you could do it, Kitten! I am so proud of
you!” I pick her up and swing her around before I can think better of it, her giggles surrounding me. After I stop, her body slowly slides down my torso while my arms remain wrapped around her tiny waist. I try to gauge her reaction, but the girl’s staring down at my chest instead of up into my eyes.
Reluctantly, I release her, assuming that’s what she wants me to do.
She takes a hesitant step back, her gaze still firmly glued to the ground. A light blush kisses her cheeks as she gains the courage to look up at me.
“Thank you for teaching me to golf,” she murmurs before lifting her thumb over her shoulder and pointing to the golf cart. “We should, um, probably get going now. This is a team activity, and I haven’t spent much time with the rest of the crew.”
I bow dramatically. “My lady, your chariot awaits.”
We jump into the golf cart, and I slide behind the steering wheel with our clubs in the back. A squeal escapes Quin as I drive like a madman across the freshly cut grass.
“Slow down!” Her fingers dig into my forearm in hopes of not flying off the plastic seat. The reaction only encourages me to drive faster. My playful chuckle travels with the wind and seems to melt a tiny amount of the anxiety attacking my passenger from my chaotic driving.
“Live a little, Kitten!” Her eyes dart to mine, and I know she’s given a front-row view of my signature smirk that’s firmly in place.
She shakes her head in response while trying to contain the unstoppable smile threatening to break through.
We make it to the rest of the team in no time, thanks to my insane driving, and exit the cart just as everyone else seems to be wrapping up at the second hole.
Jonah has sweat dripping down his pudgy face, and he looks absolutely miserable. “I don’t care what Marcus says, golf is still considered exercise, even if you do have a golf cart.”
I have a feeling we’ve stepped into an ongoing argument amongst the group.
Ronny takes the opportunity to jump right in on the complaining. “Quin,” he whines. “Make them stop!” His hands are in a praying gesture at his chest, begging her to be his salvation.
“I’m sorry, what? Make who stop?” She looks confused as she assesses the group, her eyes scanning each individual hanging around the second putting green.
“Make Trev and Marcus leave us alone. Jonah and I wanna go back to the clubhouse and order some food. We’re tired. We’re hungry. We’re all done.” His voice reminds me of a tattling toddler.
I glance at Quin, waiting to see how she responds.
Playing along, she rests her hands on her hips before turning her attention to Marcus and Trevon.
“Boys….” She drags out the word and pauses for effect, making sure to look stern as she disciplines them. “Are you two being mean to Jonah and Ronny?”
Their mouths tug into identical smirks before covering them up while attempting to look contrite. “Yes, Mom,” Trevon groans, showing Quin the best pair of puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen. Hell, he even puts mine to shame, and that’s saying something.
“Good. You two need to whip these guys into shape! They obviously need to get out more,” she teases. Her tone is light and playful, surprising the crew. Her uncharacteristic comment seems to break the act on everyone’s part, causing laughter to erupt throughout our group of misfits.
“I like your thinking, Q. Come on you lazy sacks of shit. Let’s get to the next hole,” Marcus says jokingly as he jumps behind the wheel of his golf cart.
Jonah and Ronny grumble under their breaths before one of them pipes up. “Fiiine. But you’re buying us dinner for dragging us through hell!” They both nod their heads in agreement like it’s the most brilliant idea they’ve ever had.
Surprisingly, Marcus agrees without a fight, insisting that if they earn it, he’ll buy. Marcus’ acquiescence seems to put more pep in Jonah’s and Ronny’s steps as they debate what food we should pick up after the ninth hole.
The rest of the team follows, and I’m eternally grateful Quin decided to come. Even though it was obvious she was terrified to do so.
We spend the rest of the afternoon with the team, laughing and enjoying everyone’s company. I’m fascinated as Quin ever so slowly emerges from her protective shell. I can’t take my eyes off her, and I know she notices. She keeps glancing at me, catching my heated looks like fireflies in a glass jar. Every time we connect, she stares a bit longer, giving me hope that she might feel the same way I do.
Chapter 8
Quincy
Quik_Q182: You’re a guy, right?
BeatlesBoy_41: I believe my username is BeatlesBOY… does that answer your question?
I laugh at his reply, loving how open we already are with each other. We’re practically strangers, but he’s quickly turning into a good friend.
Quik_Q182: Good point. Well... because you’re a BOY, I was wondering if I could ask you a question?
I hit send before I can talk myself out of it. How am I going to get up the nerve to ask what I’m really wanting to know?
A few minutes go by without a response, and I start to wonder if I’ve crossed a line of some kind. I really do suck at social interaction.
Finally, my computer pings. The familiar sound announcing an incoming message.
BeatlesBoy_41: Hit me.
Somehow, I gain the courage to type the question that’s been eating away at me for the past three days. Yes, you heard that right. It’s been three days since our little golfing adventure, and I’ve been thinking about Jude obsessively ever since.
He showed me a whole new side to him, and I liked it. A lot. However, I’ve never had a guy like me before, and Jude is way out of my league. I’m pretty sure he’s almost ten years older than me and has a heck of a lot more experience than I’ll ever have.
I groan as my fingers fly across the phone screen.
Quik_Q182: Hypothetically speaking, how do you know if a guy likes you?
More silence.
Come on, Julian! Don’t you know that you’re giving me a dang heart attack by not replying?
Normally, I would consider the possible time difference being a factor for his lack of reply, but he just freaking messaged me! Gah. I’m going to go crazy if I keep staring at my phone. In order to remain sane, I toss it on the bed in my tiny little bedroom and head to the connecting bathroom.
My room is on the second floor next to my dad’s. Our home is a pretty modest size. There are two bedrooms and two bathrooms on the second floor, with a decent sized family room and kitchen on the main floor. It’s the perfect size for my dad and me. We haven’t been able to afford a remodel, and I doubt that, with my dad’s condition, it’ll happen any time in the near future. The place was already pretty old when my parents first moved in twenty years ago, but I kind of like it. The faded yellow and gold wallpaper holds so many memories that I wouldn’t change it for the world.
My bedroom has had a few minor upgrades since the bubblegum pink walls of my childhood. Now the walls are covered in a bold teal color, and my bed frame boasts a warm mahogany. My comforter is a stark white, with mustard yellow pillows and a matching throw blanket on top. I have an old wooden desk in the corner that was my mom’s. This is what holds my “baby.” She’s a custom-made PC with a top-of-the-line graphics card, 3D crosspoint, and a crazy-good CPU from Intel. I may or may not have forked out some extra cash for the hot pink LED lights laced throughout that highlight the Liquid Cool, giving my baby a gorgeous glow. I almost had to sell my kidney on the black market for that bad boy, but it was totally worth it.
I head into my cramped bathroom. The small square footage barely fits a sink, shower, and toilet. Stripping down, I jump into the scalding water and let it seep into my bones. The heat is a welcome distraction from Julian’s radio silence.
Part of me wonders if he’s offended that I’m asking about another guy. To be fair, I didn’t make it clear that I was asking about another guy, but I assume he’s jumped to that conclusion, anyway. We’ve been spendin
g a lot of time chatting back and forth over the past week. We’ve kind of started to develop a relationship.
If I’m being honest with myself, I’m definitely attracted to Beatles_Boy’s personality. He’s smart, funny, sarcastic, and the list goes on. But I’m not going to fall for a guy I’ve never even seen before. There are some lines I simply won’t cross, even if I am a little starved for attention from the opposite sex.
While shampooing my curly locks, I consider my blossoming relationship with Julian versus Jude. Maybe I should give Julian the time of day? Utah isn’t that far away from my little town of Lake Havasu, Arizona. Jude, on the other hand, is from freaking England. Talk about a long-distance relationship.
I probably have more of a chance with Julian, anyway. I know for a fact that Jude could do so much better than me. I mean, have you seen the guy? He’s pretty much a GQ model.
I release a sigh of frustration while rinsing my hair.
See? This is why I don’t do the whole dating thing. Guys might say girls are confusing, but they have no idea what it’s like from our end!
I groan as I bang my head lightly against the chipped tile while debating what I should do.
After turning off the water, I grab a fluffy white towel from the rack and wrap my body in it. Once I’m done drying off, I grab a pair of cotton boyshorts and a matching navy blue bra. I throw both on before heading to my bed and grabbing my phone.
One notification.
BeatlesBoy_41: Umm… That’s a tough one.
Really? That’s it?
Quik_Q182: Duh. That’s why I asked you.
I roll my eyes.
BeatlesBoy_41: I think it depends on the guy. Can you describe him for me? What’s he like?
Scrunching my face, I consider his words. Well, crap. After my little shower debate, I can’t decide if I should describe him... or Jude.