Chapter 38 Mini Golf Delights
-Annie-
I’d been distracted during the car ride with our game of questions.
It has been a good idea so far, and I’ve been enjoying talking with Drew.
Then he’d brought up Daniel when telling me about Colorado, and I just couldn’t help but ask if it bothered him that I’ve been with his brother.
I was worried that I’d asked the wrong question; this was our first date, maybe I should have waited for a better time, but I had already asked the question out loud before I could wonder if it should even have been asked.
Drew impressed me with his honesty, then shocked me with his follow-up question, asking if I’d slept with Daniel.
I answer him quickly, “No, Drew, we didn’t,” and as soon as I say it, he lets out a breath and his body relaxes.
I hadn’t noticed how tight he’d been holding himself.
In a lot of ways, I am glad we got over this subject so quickly and directly.
I don’t want Drew thinking about me with Daniel, and I know I’ve never been more relieved that I’d never gotten that far with Daniel.
Because this thing with Drew already feels like so much more, and the butterflies in my stomach flutter in agreement.
In normal Drew fashion, he changes the subject to something more light-hearted, asking me about his best feature.
I’d answered that it was this, his ability to make things easy.
He’d always been able to do that, make a conversation easier and lighter.
To make me forget why I’d been nervous or make me laugh when I’d been too serious.
His follow-up of physical features made me think a little more.
I looked him over in the driver's seat. He was physically distracting: could I answer ‘everything?’ We’d made out, and I’d felt all his hard muscles against me, but I’d yet to feel them, to trace them, to explore them.
How could I pick one without having touched them?
He’d already ruled out me getting to reference his dimple.
Then I remember my wallpaper screen and answer with his chest as his best feature.
In typical Drew fashion, he’d offered to undress for me.
If we weren’t in the car, I’d have gladly accepted his offer, but I remind him to focus on the road.
When he says, “Ok, ok, I’ll focus, but you say the word, Angel, and I’ll get topless for you any time.
” It’s easy to answer “Deal” because it is something I want, and if the butterflies in my stomach are any indication, I’ll be saying the words sooner rather than later.
My mind is picturing getting to run my hands over his body when he asks me, “What’s something you’ve never done in a relationship?
” I am in a fog of lust thinking about him undressing for me, and my answer of “Sex” easily escapes my lips.
I shocked myself a little; I should have said something or anything else.
But the word is already out there, so I quickly try to cover it by asking, “You.” He doesn’t reply as quickly as I would have thought after my reply, and I tap my fingers against his and say, “Drew, did you hear my question?” He squeezes my fingers and then shocks me again, because his answer isn’t easy or sexual, it’s deep, and I’m impressed by his confession of never having said I love you to anyone.
I feel like his answer is the one I should have said also, because I’ve never said it either, but I also don’t regret my answer because it's true, and sex does seem like a thing I could be interested in getting to do with Drew. I can’t help but think before I can stop my brain, maybe he can be my first, and I can be his too.
Before I can focus on this thought deeper, Drew is turning the car into the parking lot of a mini-golf center.
I forget to play a version of myself that isn’t competitive from the start.
I make the ball into the cup at the end of the first hole in only two shots, and it takes him four.
I don’t hesitate to say, “Should I take it easy on you?” He gives me a smile that sends heat over my body, then replies, “Never take it easy on me, Angel. I like to earn my wins.” At some point, I throw my hair into a messy bun on my head because it is getting in my way when I was trying to putt the ball.
Drew just looks at me and shakes his head, then returns his focus to his next shot.
At the end of the hole, he places his hand on my neck and whispers into my ear, “You trying to distract me, now all I can think about is kissing you here,” and he rubs the pad of his thumb against a sensitive spot near my collarbone, sending goosebumps over my skin and a shiver up my spine.
I try to focus and reply, “Who is the one distracting whom now?” He pulls me into a kiss, then pulls away, removing his hand.
“I’m always game for distractions, Angel.
” Then he places his ball down on the next marker and takes his shot, looking back at me with his dimple on full display.
We go back and forth like this through the eighteen holes of the mini golf course, being competitive but also getting lost in little touches and moments of distraction.
It’s so easy with Drew—the butterflies come and go, and I realize they aren’t so much about my nerves but more tied to this feeling of happiness or, in some moments, tied to a feeling of wanting.
He wins by hitting a hole-in-one through the little windmill on the last hole.
He holds off his celebration until I’ve missed the same path, and it’s clear I’ll be having to take more shots to get the ball to the cup.
He wraps his arms around my body and picks me up, spinning us around in celebration.
Still holding me up, he leans into me and kisses me, causing those little butterflies to make another appearance.
A throat clears in the background, and Drew pulls back but doesn’t set me down right away.
He turns and looks in the direction of the sound.
It’s a guy with this family, and his wife gives him a little bump of her hip.
“Leave them alone, the kids are still putting anyway.” She looks over and winks at us.
Drew slowly lets me slide down his body as he sets me down, then says, “Sorry about that.” He takes my hand, and we drop off our clubs at the door.
We all but run across the parking lot to his car, laughing the whole way.
When we reach the car, he spins me against the passenger door and kisses me.
I can’t help but lose myself in his lips.
We do eventually break the kiss, and he helps me get into the car.
When he reappears in the driver's seat, he starts the car, puts the car into drive, takes my hand, and asks if I’m hungry.
“I could eat,” I say, and he drives us to my favorite pizza place in town.
When we sit down, he says, “You want the one with olives right?” “Yes, please,” I reply, impressed that he remembered my order.
Over pizza, we have easy conversations flowing from school to sports and talking about what colleges we are applying to.
“Aren’t you hoping to get a major league deal?
” I ask him when he surprises me with some of the colleges he is applying to.
“Yeah, I mean that would be the best outcome, but I know that it’s a long shot.
Coach and I have some good backup schools that I’d be able to grow and develop at if no offer comes.
” He is so relaxed giving me this explanation, and I’m impressed with his ability to reach for his goals while having a backup plan in place.
I’ve been focused on getting in at Norman; it’s my dream school.
I tell him, “It’s the college I want to attend so bad.
I’ve got backups, but they feel like I’ll be settling and not really where I’m meant to be if I don’t get into Norman.
” “You’ll get in. You work hard at school, and I bet your Visual News clips can help,” he replies.
“Thank you, I hope so,” I say as we continue to discuss the pros and cons of each of our opportunities over the rest of dinner.
***
When we climb back into his car after pizza, I check the time, and it’s only ten o’clock, giving us plenty of time before curfew, but I’m not sure if this is the end.
It’s already been an amazing night. “Are we headed home?” I ask, trying to gauge his plan.
“I was thinking dessert if you wanted,” he replies.
I can’t help but think of more kisses with him as dessert.
I want more, but he interrupts my thoughts.
“We can stay in town and go to that ice cream shop, or we have enough time to drive to that shaved ice place by the lake.” This isn’t the dessert I was picturing, and I can’t help but feel a little disappointed.
“Let’s get shaved ice,” I answer. It’s more time alone with him, getting to hold his hand in this little first-date bubble.
Over the drive, we talk and then fall into a silence that is only broken by the low volume of the radio in the background.
I really don’t want shaved ice, and as we get closer, I finally break the silence.
“Can we go somewhere else, would that be a problem?” “Sure, no problem, where are you thinking?” Drew asks.
Where am I thinking… Where is somewhere we can stop: where is somewhere we can go and not get interrupted?
“Let’s go to that place by the lake, the one that is near the boat ramp but is off in the trees,” I say, and my skin is on fire because I know this is the place people go to make out or hook up without being caught.
Does Drew know this? I’m not sure if he does, but I want a moment with him alone, not on my back porch swing: somewhere I can touch him and he can touch me and I don’t have to worry about being caught by my parents.
“You sure?” he says, squeezing my hand. That is his way of letting me know that he does in fact know what goes on in the woods near the boat ramp.
“I’m sure,” I say, and he turns at the light away from the shaved ice place and towards the lake.
***
No one is in the lot when we arrive, and Drew drives his car into the farthest and darkest parking spot of the lot.
I should have grown nervous the closer to this moment we got, but I’m not.
I’m excited… I’m turned on. I want to be able to feel his body with my hands, and I want to feel his hands on mine.
Drew clears his throat after parking and turning off the car.
Our hands are still the only things touching.
How do we make the next move? What even is the next move?
There is no room in the front seats, and the seats are separated by the console between us.
Drew clears his throat again before saying, “I’m not sure what the plan is from here, Angel, but nothing comfortable is going to happen in the front seat.
” I know I turn my head and look at the back seat.
His car isn’t huge, but I have to mentally agree that the backseat is bigger, and there isn’t a console separating the sides of the car.
“Yeah, we should move to the back,” I hear my voice say, but I don’t sound like me, not really; my voice sounds different even to my ears.
I release Drew’s fingers and open the door, stepping out into the cooling September night air.
Goosebumps appear over my skin, and I’m not sure if it’s just from the cool breeze running over my exposed arms and legs.
Drew exits his side of the car, walks over, and opens the back seat door.
Before I can think better of it, I take his hand and scoot inside, dragging him behind me.