8. Dolly
8
DOLLY
I stare at the bright, shiny weapon in my hand, the nice textured grip on one end, the other heavy and blunt, wondering just how much damage I could do with this. And if it was really a good idea to hand me such a thing.
Then I look up and see the windmill.
That thing is going down…
“What color balls would you like?” the kid behind the counter asks, clearly unimpressed with his lot in life. Part of me wants to tell him to cheer up, he could be a jilted bride, but then I think better of it. There’s no way this pimply, barely legal, and probably stoned kid could comprehend that. “We just had a princess party come through, so we’re all out of pink.”
Hux looks to me, eyebrows raised, letting me know the choice is mine. That is, unless I want pink.
“Lime green for me, blue for him.”
“Dude, she just gave you blue balls,” our new stoner friend comments, reaching behind him and grabbing the brightly colored golf balls from the color-coded baskets.
“She’s done worse,” Hux responds, completely deadpan.
The comment catches me off guard. Not because it’s not true—I have done worse. A lot worse. The long list of scars Hux could rattle off from our misadventures comes to mind. Or the four different occasions that required stitches. To say nothing of my poor aim with the potato gun that hit him square in the package, making him almost hurl.
All worse than a little stunted arousal. Of which I’m sure he’s never had on my part anyway.
Exactly why that answer has me thrown. Because it’s not his standard “we’re just friends” defense. Not that this kid needs to know all that isn’t between Hux and me, but those three words are so automatic out of him, they seem pre-programmed. Like I could push a button and he would recite them.
Not today though.
Wide-eyed, and now a little afraid of me, the kid hands us the balls, score sheets, and mini pencils, silently pointing the way to the start of the course.
Somerset Island Golf Club is known for its pristine course, rivaling only Augusta National in the state of Georgia. One thing Somerset has that Augusta doesn’t, though, is a smaller, fun-sized version of the course, designed to challenge even the best mini golf player. Sure, there are the standards like the windmill, the castle, and even an alligator, but the brilliant minds behind this course also include multiple water features, a sand trap, and an underground tunnel.
“Ready to make this interesting ?” Hux asks, the teasing lilt in his voice making me shiver.
“How interesting?”
“It’s time for us to raise some hell.” He winks.
“While playing mini golf?” I question, wanting to see where he’s taking this.
“Every stroke over par is a truth. No pleading the fifth.”
“For both of us? Of just the loser of the hole?”
“Both of us.” He shrugs, apparently having not thought about that part. “But, every hole in one, shooter gets to dare the other to do something.”
“And if we both get a hole in one?”
“Then I guess we’re both doing a dare…”
Hux waggles his eyebrows, an impish smile spreading across his lips. The one that makes him look so damn kissable. The only way that is happening is on a dare though. Because that ship sailed long ago.
“You’re on,” I challenge, ready to raise some hell , as he put it. Then again, it’s still fairly innocent; this is mini golf. We’re in public and there’s apparently a princess party in the vicinity, so we do have to behave ourselves. We’re also not sixteen anymore.
Either way, I’m here for it.
I look at the first hole, then to the small sign next to it. Hole one, Par four/two. Okay, easy enough. The long green is flat, with a ninety-degree angle at the far end, making it look like a hook. The curve is sloped though, so I just have to give the ball enough to get it down the green and up and over.
Whacking it the best I can, I get it close, but not quite. My bright green ball bounces off the wooden rail, and in the end, it takes me three tries to get it in the hole. Not my best work, but I’m still under par, so I’m fine.
Annoyingly, it takes Hux two.
“Alright, first truth?—”
“No! I was under par!” I object.
“Doll, that was a par two; you took three.”
“It was four!”
I point at the sign, where it very clearly says four. If he’s looking to get me riled up to take my mind off things, it’s working. Indignation rises in me, and I start to argue with him, but he cuts me off.
“That first number is the kids’ par.”
What?!
I blink hard. Once, twice, three times. Making sure I fully register what he said. The kids’ par?
He nods, pressing his lips together, and I can tell he’s trying his hardest not to laugh at me. It’s not going to work though, and he’s going to give in at any moment. Nodding toward the bigger sign at the start of the course with the map and basic instructions, he starts to crack. I huff, marching over to take a look, and it doesn’t take long before I see it. The large note about the two numbers on each par sign—one for kids and one for adults.
Fuck…
“I want a mulligan! That’s not fair!”
“Fine,” he says through his laughter. “I’ll give you a mulligan, but if you still don’t get par, then you’re doing a dare instead.”
I weigh my options. There aren’t many things in this world that Hux doesn’t know about me. Pretty sure I could count them on one hand and not use all my fingers. Dares, however…he’s pretty inventive. And since this game is his invention, I have no doubt he’s had plenty of time to think up things, whereas I’m shooting from the hip. Hux is also much better at mini golf than I am.
Well, shit…
“Fine. Truth,” I acquiesce. Hole one is a little early for this, but what the hell.
“What’s something you’d hate for everyone to find out?”
The real reason I was marrying Jeff…
I sigh, the answer to that question coming so quickly I almost blurt it out. But I can’t share that. Not even with Hux. My own worry that I’ve settled in life as a whole—with Jeff, my career, everything—isn’t a burden he needs. Who knows, maybe it’s nothing more than some post being left at the altar blues that has me feeling this way and I’ll snap out of it. All the more reason not to bring it up.
“What was in Jeff’s letter,” I answer. It’s cliché, but it’s also truthful. “I think I’d rather all of Hickory Hills think I was sneaking around than know that Jeff thinks I’m not wife material.”
“He doesn’t deserve you. You know that, right?”
I shrug, making my way to hole two. I stare at the par sign, making sure I note the correct number this time, before I answer.
“I do. I just wish he knew that.”
I take my turn, coming in one shot under the three I’m allowed. Hux isn’t as lucky, taking an extra two.
“Know what I’ve always wanted to know?” I ask, lining up my shot at hole three.
“What could you possibly have always wanted to know?”
My shot goes wide and I curse under my breath, knowing that is going to cost me in the long run. There’s going to be more truth coming for me at the end of this one.
“Do you have a favorite sibling?”
Hux scoff laughs. “Depends on the day.”
“I’m serious!”
“So am I. Depends on which one of the jackasses is the least annoying that day.”
“Hux!” I stomp my foot, knowing he has a real answer buried in there somewhere. “Truth, buddy.”
“Fine, but you can’t tell Willa.”
“Holy shit, she’s your favorite?”
“No, and that’s why you can’t tell her,” he says, taking his shot. It bounces off the fake rock perfectly, stopping just before the hole. Damn it. “It really is a toss-up, but between Gus and Milo. Don’t ask why. They’re just always the two I’ve been the closest to, and the two I’d save from a burning building first. But I never admitted that.”
“Secret is safe with me.”
“And second?”
“Shit, this is tough.” I reach into my pocket, pulling out my phone and quickly searching questions. I click on a list, scanning until I find one so ridiculous I can’t help but ask it. “Ever done a strip tease for a partner?”
“No.” His answer is emphatic, like he can’t believe I would even question that the answer could be anything but.
“Would you?”
“You’re out of questions.”
He hits his putt softly, sending it perfectly into the hole. Narrowing my eyes at him, I ignore his comeback, trying to focus on my own shot. Sure enough, it’s wide again, and I end up over again this time. At least it’s only one stroke.
“Let me see that list.” Hux motions for my phone, and I hand it to him. He taps my code in without thinking, and I laugh, loving that he knows me so well that he doesn’t even have to ask. Jeff could never remember it. “Hmmm…”
“Better make it good, Huxley,” I challenge. “You said you wanted to raise hell. So, do it. Piss me off. Embarrass me. Whatever it is you plan to do.”
One eyebrow quirks upward, the same side of his mouth rising with it, as if an invisible string lifted them both in time with each other. I hold out my arms, once again telling him to bring it. No holding back now.
“Oh, this is just the warm-up, Doll.” He winks. My body heats up, a reaction I have no business having considering he’s my best friend of nearly thirty years. But looking at him, standing in the bright sunlight in a tight T-shirt, tattoos on full display, the complete opposite of my ex, does something to me I can’t explain. I’m going to blame the post breakup depression. Because that’s a thing, right? “Worst sexual experience.”
He wants just one? How do I narrow that down? These last six years were generally unsatisfactory on all levels, making it really tough to pick. Unless I can answer with that. Although, there might be one that does outrank Jeff.
“Warren Callahan, after Grandma Dolly’s funeral.”
“Seriously?”
“I think he thought he was being comforting?” I shrug, thinking back to my college boyfriend, who had shown up randomly to pay his respects to my family. “It was weird, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I wasn’t really in the mood, because well, my grandmother just died, so I just lay there.”
“Wait. You spent…” He trails off, and I know exactly where that train of thought is heading.
Because yes, I spent that night at Hux’s house. In his bed. With him. Platonically. Because after losing Grandma Dolly to cancer, Hux, my best friend in the entire world, was the comfort I needed. Not bad sex with someone I’d broken up with months prior.
So I suppose that’s not only one of my worst sexual experiences, but one of my less proud moments. Ooops.
“Please don’t think less of me for doing that and then spending the night at your place,” I whisper.
“I don’t. Although I would have washed my sheets immediately the next morning had I known back then.”
“I showered before coming over!” I swing my club at him playfully, and he dodges out of the way, laughing.
Shaking my head, I press on to the next hole, ready to continue the game. To find a way to improve my game so I can start asking him the embarrassing questions. To return the favor if you will.
It’s five more holes before I get my chance though. My game does improve, saving me from having to divulge any more, but Hux maintains his composure. Until we get to the loop de loop.
“What the actual fuck,” Hux curses, after his third attempt to line his ball up with the metal curlicue that is the only way to the other side of the green. One more attempt and he’s going to be over par before he even gets to putt, making me tingle with excitement. Payback is a bitch after all. “This is ridiculous.”
“Want a break? Should I go? Give you a moment to collect yourself and calm your blue balls?”
He glares at me, stepping out of the way. I prance up to the tee and wiggle my backside to make a show of it. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Hux’s gaze glued to my ass as I shake it, heat crawling up the back of my neck, liking the way that feels.
“Holy shit!” I scream.
My neon green ball hits the curlicue perfectly, whipping around the loops and shooting straight into the hole with a perfect clunk. I jump, my arms raised high, unable to believe my eyes. I got a hole in one!
Strong arms wrap around me, lifting me up off the ground, and send me flying. I scream again, holding on tight as Hux twirls me around, his breath hot against my neck as he holds me close. Holy fuck, does this feel good. No, not good. Perfect.
“I have no idea how I did that!”
“All that matters is you did it.”
“So, dare time, right?”
“As soon as I manage to actually complete this hole,” he answers, returning to the tee. “So be thinking of the damage.”
I ponder for a second, wondering what we could possibly do while on a golf course. If we were at home, there would be a number of things I’d make him do. But here? I’d like to not get kicked off the island within hours of arriving.
A cacophony of giggles sounds from around the corner, and I spin around to see eight little princesses making their way down the path, their moms straggling behind them. And inspiration strikes.
I rush over, asking the princesses if they have a favorite song, because my gentleman friend wants to serenade them. It takes them a minute to decide, but they finally settle on “Cruel Summer.”
“Are you sure you don’t want ‘Shake It Off’?” Hux asks, looking at them pleadingly after I explain to him that they mean Taylor Swift and not Bananarama. “I know the lyrics to that one.”
“No!” they echo out in a chorus.
Hux sighs, pulls out his phone, and searches for the video on YouTube that will show him the lyrics so he can sing along. I stand off to the side, recording him as he belts out the pop hit, getting every few words wrong and wildly off-key, but putting on a good show, nonetheless. The little girls are enthralled—and the moms in stitches behind them—as he continues, finishing it with all the enthusiasm of the queen herself.
I swoon a little, loving that he didn’t question my dare and jumped into this wholeheartedly.
“You’re gonna pay for that,” Hux mutters to me as we return to our game.
“I have no doubt,” I reply, taking my next putt. “But I do believe you also owe me some truths in the meantime. So…’fess up, sir.”
I pepper him with questions. Would he ever perform a strip tease for his partner? Yes, if he felt like they could both get into it. His worst sexual experience? Ashley Silverstein in college who hadn’t shared with him it was her first time and then cried through the whole thing—“I felt like such a jackass.” But before I can get to my third and final question, he confesses something else.
“And yes, I’ve fucked someone else and then had you in my bed.”
Oh…
“That wasn’t what I was going to ask.”
Because I didn’t want to know…
Hux shrugs. “You were honest with me; felt I should be honest with you. ’Cause I’m not proud of it either.”
“We can be not proud of it together then.”
I reach out, grabbing his hand, and squeeze it. The contact is easy…right. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world to be standing here holding his hand. Even after admitting such a thing.
“So, what were you going to ask?”
Sucking in a breath, I dig deep, summoning up the courage. “Do you ever think about what if things had gone differently?”
“What things?”
He lets go, turning back to the game, and I instantly miss the connection. The loss of him feels deep. Deeper than it should.
“I dunno. Things. Anything.”
He looks up at me quickly, then back down to take his shot. My insides clench, knowing exactly what moment I mean, but not wanting to admit it. Because I know it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t look at me that way.
Never has.
Just because I always told myself that if we weren’t married by thirty that we’d marry each other doesn’t mean it was a real pact. Only in my head. And just because one drunken night at twenty-eight, I told myself that maybe we didn’t need to wait until we were thirty and maybe I should float the idea sooner rather than later, doesn’t mean he would have said yes.
The universe answered that question for me anyway. Because that was the night I met Jeff. Had it been meant to be that I propositioned my bestie, then Jeff Holcomb never would have walked into my life holding a beer and asking if I wanted to dance.
“Sometimes,” he answers, still focused on the game. “But whatcha gonna do about it?”
But whatcha gonna do about it?
Such a Hux answer. I mean, he’s not wrong. There’s no fixing the past. I can, however, change my future. And if this post wedding that wasn’t season is teaching me anything, I think it’s that I need a change. A big one.
If only I knew what that one was.
“Last hole. You ready for this?” Hux asks.
“I’m ready for a drink,” I tell him, knowing that I’ve lost this game so badly it’s not even funny.
I haven’t been paying close attention to the score, but I know that based on how many more questions I’ve had to answer over the last few hours compared to him, I’m in deep.
“That’s on the docket for later,” he laughs. “Then the real trouble can start.”
“Winner’s buying.”
Hux lets out a loud, boisterous laugh. “I was always buying.”
“Just sayin’.”
“Ladies first.”
He gestures toward the alligator at the end of the long straight fairway, its mechanical jaw opening and closing at a deceiving pace. I know this is going to take me a hundred tries, and can only hope that it takes Hux two hundred so that I can talk him into doing shots instead of questions for this round.
First shot, miss.
“Nice and slow, Doll. With the gator.”
“With the gator? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Here.” He comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around me, pressing his front to my back, lining up his arms along mine to help me swing. I relax into him, inhaling deeply, wondering how he still smells so good after an afternoon out in the sun. All woodsy and manlike. Slowly, he draws our arms back, swinging the club softly, hitting the ball and sending it down the fake grass in a straight line. “With the gator.”
Resting my head against his chest, I watch as the gator swallows the ball, loving that he knew exactly what to do and hating that he was so good that he got it right the first time, and now he has to let go.
Stepping back from me, he repeats the motion by himself, getting his on the first try. A hole in one.
Shit.
It’s his first—and only—of the game, so there’s no way he’s not going to collect. Because he’s already made it clear I’m going to pay.
“What’s the price?” I ask.
To his credit, Hux doesn’t skip a beat.
“Our friend from check-in is right over there at the ball return.” He nods to a hut about fifteen feet away. Sure enough, the pimply kid from earlier is in there, sorting out the pinks from the purples from the greens. “I think you should show him what blue balls are really like.”
“Excuse you?”
He wants me to what now?!
“Go flash him. Unless you’re too chicken.”
Huxley Adams Hayes…
Invoking the four magic words from our teenage years, Hux flips a switch inside me. All afternoon he really had me thinking he was keeping this PG. That we’d grown up. But no. He had this up his sleeve the whole time. Unless you’re too chicken. Well, I’m not.
Because even at thirty-five, Dolly Norah McLain does have a wild side.
I blow Hux a kiss, then turn on my heel to march over to the hut, my heart racing. Wild side or not, it’s been a long time since I’ve done anything like this. But here goes.
Clearing my throat, I grab the hem of my shirt, waiting for Blue Balls himself to look up. It takes a second, but he does, and it’s go time. I flip up my shirt, making sure my bra goes with it—not an easy feat at this age—and then bring it back down just as quick. The shock on his face registers only briefly as I turn to go almost immediately, heading back to Hux, who’s standing there, beaming.
“That’s my girl.”