✧･Chapter 34 Top Three? #2
And before I can respond - before I can overthink it, or question it, or protect myself from it - she leans in and kisses me. It's not rushed or desperate, and it's not something stolen or hidden.
It's certain, claiming. The kind of kiss that doesn't ask permission because it already knows the answer.
My breath catches, and my hands move instinctively, settling against her shoulders as I hold onto her, as if letting go would somehow undo the moment.
For a moment, everything else disappears.
The noise, the lights, the movement around us.
It all fades into something distant and unimportant, like it belongs to a different world entirely.
The only thing that feels real is the way Mae is holding my face, the warmth of her hands grounding me, the softness of her mouth against mine in a way that is so steady, so sure, that it almost undoes me.
I don't realize how much I needed this until it's happening. Not just the kiss, but the certainty. The choice.
When she finally pulls back, it isn't abrupt.
It's slow, like she's giving me time to catch up, like she's making sure I'm still there with her when it ends.
Her forehead rests lightly against mine, her hands still framing my face, her thumbs brushing faintly along my skin like she doesn't quite want to let go yet.
I keep my eyes closed for a second longer than necessary, because opening them means stepping back into everything else. But when I do, she's right there.
Looking at me like nothing has changed.
"Still think I'm going to get embarrassed?" She asks quietly.
I swallow, my hands still resting against her wrists, my fingers curling slightly like I need to make sure she's real.
"You say things like that," I murmur, my voice quieter than I expect, "like they're easy."
Her expression shifts just slightly, something more serious settling in. "They're not easy," she says. "They're just true."
That lands somewhere deep in my chest, in the place I've spent years trying not to look at too closely.
She lowers her hands slowly, but her fingers brush against mine again almost immediately, like she's drawn back without thinking. This time, when she takes my hand, it feels different. Not like she's trying to prove something, but like she simply wants to be close.
And I let her. I don't overthink it, I don't pull away, I just hold on.
Around us, the world starts to come back into focus. The laughter, the clatter of a ball hitting plastic, the hum of conversation - but it feels quieter now, like it's been pushed to the background where it belongs.
Mae glances past me toward the course, then back at me, a small, teasing smile returning to her face.
"Ready to lose?" She asks.
I raise an eyebrow. "That's bold, considering you haven't seen me play."
"I don't need to. I have faith."
"In yourself?"
"Absolutely."
I huff a quiet laugh, some of the tightness in my chest finally loosening. "You're insufferable."
"And yet you're still here."
I glance down at our hands, then back at her. She grins, and there's something so light about it, so uncomplicated, that it makes it easier to breathe.
We step fully onto the course this time, moving toward the first hole. The bright green turf stretches out in front of us, bordered by plastic obstacles that are clearly designed to be more frustrating than impressive.
Mae hands me my club like this is something important, like there's meaning in it, even though it's just a cheap piece of plastic.
"After you," she says.
I look at the hole, then at her. "You're really committing to this, aren't you?"
"Completely."
I sigh, but I step forward anyway, positioning the ball and adjusting my grip like I have any idea what I'm doing. Mae lingers just behind me, close enough that I can feel her presence, close enough that I'm aware of every small shift she makes.
"You're overthinking it," she says.
"I am not."
"You absolutely are."
"I just got handed a stick and a ball and you expect me to perform."
"It's mini golf, Claire, not a presentation."
I glance back at her. "I excel at presentations."
"I know," she says easily. "That's why this is good for you."
I shake my head, but there's no real resistance left in me as I look back down at the ball.
"Just hit it," she adds, softer now.
So I do. The ball rolls forward, veering slightly to the side before tapping weakly against the edge of the obstacle and stopping in a position that is, objectively, terrible.
There's a pause, then Mae claps once.
"Wow."
I turn to look at her.
"That was impressive."
"It moved three feet."
"Yes, but with confidence."
I stare at her, unimpressed, and she's smiling like she means it. I then narrow my eyes at her, still holding the club like it personally offended me.
"Don't patronize me."
"I'm not," Mae says, far too easily. "I'm encouraging you."
"That was not encouragement."
"It absolutely was. I clapped."
"You mocked me."
"I supported you."
I let out a quiet huff, turning back to the ball like I can salvage this somehow. I reposition my feet, adjusting my grip again, aware of Mae watching me in a way that makes it very hard to focus on anything else.
"Okay," she says after a second, stepping a little closer. "You're doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"The overthinking thing."
"I am not overthinking."
"You are calculating angles in your head, aren't you?"
I hesitate.
"That's not the point."
She laughs softly, and then I feel it - her stepping in behind me, close enough that my breath catches before I can stop it.
"Here," she says, her voice lower now, right by my ear. "Let me help you."
My entire body goes a little still. Because this... this feels like a bad idea.
Her hands come up slowly, carefully, like she's giving me time to pull away if I want to. She gently adjusts my grip on the club, her fingers brushing against mine. Then she shifts closer, one hand guiding mine while the other rests lightly over it, aligning the club.
"Relax your shoulders," she murmurs.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "I am relaxed."
"You're stiff."
Her hand slides just slightly, guiding the angle, and I swear she has to know what she's doing to me at this point. There is no way she doesn't know.
"Okay," she continues, softer now. "Just a small swing. Don't try to force it."
Her arm brushes lightly against mine as she demonstrates the motion, slow and controlled.
"Like this."
I nod, even though I'm not entirely sure I've processed anything she said.
"Claire."
"What?"
"You actually have to listen."
"I am listening."
"You're not."
"I am."
She leans in just a little closer, her voice dropping to something almost teasing. "You're thinking about something else."
My face warms immediately. I turn my head slightly, enough to look at her over my shoulder, and she's already smiling like she's caught me.
"You're very distracting," I mutter.
Her expression softens just a little at that, something quieter slipping through the teasing. "Good," she says.
I blink. "Good?"
She nudges the club gently. "Go on."
I refocus, trying to follow the motion she showed me, and the club connects with the ball. It rolls forward, smoother this time, curving slightly, and then, somehow, miraculously, it drops right into the hole.
I freeze. "I did that!"
"You did."
"I actually did that."
Mae breaks into a grin, her hands still loosely around mine before she lets go just enough to clap again, this time far less teasing.
"See? I'm an incredible teacher."
I laugh, a real one, the kind that comes out before I can think about it. "That was luck."
"Absolutely not."
"That was entirely luck."
"That was skill and guidance."
"That was me."
"That was me helping you."
I shake my head, still smiling, still a little in disbelief as I look back at the hole. "I can't believe that worked."
Mae steps closer again, not quite as intentional this time, but just as natural, her shoulder brushing lightly against mine.
"I can," she says.
I glance at her.
"Because you're better at things than you think you are."
The words are simple, but they don't feel simple. They feel like everything.
"Well," I say, trying to recover some composure, even if it's useless at this point. "Don't get used to it. That's probably the only good shot I'll make all night."
Mae smiles, soft and certain. "Then I guess I'll just have to stay close and help you with the rest."
By the time we finish the course, I've stopped keeping score.
Not because I lost, although I definitely did, but because somewhere between Mae laughing at my terrible aim, her dramatically celebrating every mediocre shot she made, and the way she kept finding excuses to stand too close, to guide my hands, to bump her shoulder into mine like it was nothing,
the game itself stopped mattering.
The way she clapped every time I got even remotely close to the hole like I'd done something extraordinary.
The way she groaned when she missed an easy shot and then immediately blamed the 'wind,' despite the fact that we were very obviously indoors.
The way she never once let go of my hand unless she absolutely had to - and even then, she always found it again seconds later.
When we finally step back outside, the night air feels cooler and quieter, a soft contrast to the noise and bright colors we're leaving behind. For a moment, we just stand there, neither of us moving toward the car right away.
Mae glances at me, a small, thoughtful look crossing her face.
"What?" I ask softly, raising an eyebrow and she just smiles.
"It was really nice seeing you like that."
I blink, caught off guard as she steps in front of me, closing the small space between us. The look on her face is gentler than anything she's shown me tonight, like she's holding something fragile and doesn't want to break it.
My face warms, and I roll my eyes a little, more out of habit than anything else. Still, I can't deny it.