CHAPTER 14
”Putt-Putt?” I asked.
”Hell yeah,” Sam said as he joined me at the front of the car. ”Are you surprised?”
”Hmmm. Of all the places I thought you”d take me, golf never entered my mind.”
”Not golf, Kent,” he corrected while shaking his head. ”This is mini-golf, golf”s cooler, funner, more awesome cousin. I decided you need more fun in your life.”
”How thoughtful of you.”
I bit my lip, gazing up at the sign that shined down on us. McIntyre”s Magical Mini-Golf. Part of the sign flickered in and out, making it look like Mc”s Magical Mini olf. I”d lived in Chariot, North Carolina my whole life and never knew this place existed.
”Also,” I said, ”you know ”funner” isn”t a word, right?”
”Tonight, it is.” Sam threw me a grin. ”Let”s go choose our clubs.”
His enthusiasm was infectious, and I found myself smiling before we even got to our first hole.
”Nice choice,” I said, gesturing to his hands.
”Pink is my lucky color,” Sam said, tossing his ball into the air and catching it with ease. He twirled the clubin a circle. ”Hope you”re ready for this, Kent.”
I shrugged. ”I haven”t golfed before, but I should warn you. I”m very competitive.”
Sam”s grin widened. ”So am I.”
Gripping my electric blue club, I shook out my shoulders. Was it bad to beat your date at a sport he had chosen? Perhaps.
But there was no way I”d just let Sam win.
”I may or may not have brought you here to show off,” he added.
”I”m serious, Bishop,” I said. ”This could get ugly.”
”Bring it, Kent.”
Despite the cute fairies and woodland creatures surrounding us, the game quickly became heated. Sam had already beat me in the first four holes. It didn”t even look like he was trying, which was crazy—and suspicious.
”Are you cheating?” I demanded.
Sam gave me a mock-offended look. ”I would never.”
My eyes narrowed as I considered him. ”You have to be. No one”s this lucky.”
”It”s the luck of the pink-ish,” he said.
”That”s not a thing,” I said. ”Luck of the Irish is a thing. But pink-ish? No.”
Sam shrugged, running a hand through his hair. ”You say that, but the proof is on the scorecard.”
Rolling my shoulders back, I said, ”Well, there are still 14 more holes, Bishop. I wouldn”t get too cocky.”
”If I was down five strokes, I wouldn”t either.”
I nearly growled which made Sam”s smile brighten.
”Hey, why don”t we make it interesting?” he said.
”How would we do that?” I asked.
”For each hole we win, we get something.”
”Like what?”
”A piece of clothing?”
I gave him a look. ”Try again.”
”Ooh, shot that down fast.”
”It”s a crazy idea.”
”Not really,” he said, ”you”ve heard of strip poker, right? When you think of it that way, strip mini-golf makes a lot of sense.”
”Next,” I said with a roll of my eyes.
Sam thought for a second then said, ”How about a kiss?”
”That desperate to kiss me again?” I joked.
”Absolutely,” he said, and honest to God, Sam”s voice was so serious, I couldn”t tell if he was joking. After a second, though, he grinned.
I shook my head. ”Moving on to option three.”
”Okay, how about this? Whoever wins gets to ask a question. Kind of like truth or truth.”
I crossed my arms. ”You think you can handle it? I”ve been told I”m a very nosy person.”
”I can if you can,” he said.
The challenge was obvious, and I couldn”t back down. Now, I had an added incentive to win. Questions were one of my favorite things. Sam had just upped the stakes and sealed his fate, and he didn”t even know it. Grinning, I sent him a nod.
”Fine,” I said.
”Fine,” he said back, gesturing for me to putt first. ”After you.”
I couldn”t deny it. The game got more exciting after that. My ball seemed to understand the level of importance—that or my hate-to-lose mentality kicked in—and I won the next hole. And the next. And the next. I planned to keep winning, but Sam didn”t seem worried. If he was upset by the turn of events, he didn”t show it. In fact, he looked downright pleased when I asked my first question.
”Favorite food?” I asked.
Sam shot me a smile. ”You already know the answer to that.”
”It could”ve changed.”
”Nope, warm chocolate chip cookies with milk. Same as it was back in middle school.”
I nodded, filing that away for later. ”You can ask me a question if you want.”
”Okay,” he said, ”but just remember I get four from those early wins.”
”I”m not sure those should count,” I said.”Our agreement wasn”t reached until after the fact.”
Sam shot me a look. ”They count,” he said in a voice that brooked no argument. ”Now,what”s your favorite food?”
”It”s a three-way tie between grilled cheese sandwiches with ginger ale to drink, Chinese, and ice cream.”
I lifted a brow as he laughed.
”Something funny?”
”I see yours haven”t changed either,” he said. ”Good to know.”
”Hmmm,” I said, ”speaking of which, you mentioned something about dessert. Is that still happening?”
”Yeah, there”s an ice cream shop next door. Thought we”d stop there after we”re done here. By the way”—Sam pointed at me—”you just used your second question.”
”Hey! That”s not fair.”
”Tell it to the magical one-eyed dragon that blessed our agreement back at hole five.”
I shook my head. ”You”re so weird.”
”You love it,” he said.
I do, I thought.
And I really hope you can”t see how much.
Swallowing, I shook it off and got ready for my next shot.
”Whatever,” I said. ”Here”s a question. Why do guys always throw the word love around like it means nothing?”
”Guess we”re done with the easy ones,” Sam mumbled.
My ball soared forward landing only a few feet away from the target.
Giving him a shrug, I said, ”Told you I was nosy.”
”I can”t speak for all guys.” He placed his ball on the green turf meant to look like grass, stood back up, and studied the area. ”But love is a word I heard a lot growing up. My parents said ”I love you” to each other and us kids every day.”
Sam took his time getting into position.
”I don”t think you can use it too much, you know? It”s not like there”s this finite amount of love in a person”s heart, and once it”s used up, it”s gone. You can always create more. It”s one of the only things that really is endless.”
He swung, but as his ball sailed past, I couldn”t tear my eyes off of Sam.
”Love should be said more often. Not less,” he said. ”That”s just my opinion.”
As his eyes settled on me, I looked away in time to see his pink ball fall neatly into place, disappearing into the earth. A hole in one.
”Nice shot,” I murmured.
”Thanks,” he said. ”What do you think? About love?”
Clearing my throat, I turned back to face him and met his gaze. ”I think love is special, that it”s rarer than everyone makes it out to be. I think some people search all their life for true love and never find it.”
Sam nodded. ”What about I love you?”
Heart sparkles.
All the heart sparkles went off at hearing him say those words.
It was a question, not a declaration, but the organ in my chest couldn”t tell the difference.
Sam Bishop would never say those words to me for real, so I allowed the sparkles to fill me up, enjoying the fuzzy feelings, before coming back to reality.
”Kent?”
”I think you should only say I love you if you mean it,” I said.
”Just so you know,” he said, ”when I say it, I always mean it.”
Pulling in a long inhale then releasing an even longer exhale, I smiled. ”That”s good. Also, that was two of your questions.”
”But—”
”Honestly, might”ve been three. But I”m willing to compromise.”
As Sam shook his head, we walked to the end of the green. He retrieved his ball; I sunk mine in one extra stroke, and we moved onto the next hole. I think we both needed a breather after that because the follow-up questions weren”t nearly as profound.
Sam: What”s your favorite sport?
Me: Does reading count as a sport?
Sam: No...
Me: Oh, okay, then figure skating.
(a grunt)
Me: If you could go anywhere, where would it be?
Sam: Fictional or real world?
Me: Either.
Sam: Schitt”s Creek if it”s fiction, a bakery if it”s not.
Me: I love that answer.
Sam: Thanks, Kent.
Me: Also, a bakery? You must be hungry.
Sam: Hey, don”t judge. I heard your stomach growl a second ago, so I know you are too.
Me: This is true.
I learned Sam”s biggest fear (never finding a purpose), and he learned mine (losing the ones I love). Sam won another hole and asked me to name my favorite musician. I told him it depended on the day and my mood but that Taylor Swift, Drake, Vivaldi, Tracy Chapman, and Daughter were always near the top of the list. When he asked who that last one was, I sent him a link to a playlist—and informed him that he”d just used one of his questions. We hunkered down after that, agreeing without speaking to focus until the end of the game. We were in a dead heat. Sam still had one more win than me, but I could tie it up with this final hole.
Fate must”ve been with me because I sunk my ball in two strokes.
”Yeah,” I said with a fist-pump. ”Your turn, Bishop.”
He looked at me for a moment. ”You”re not going to get mad if I win, right?”
”I”d be more upset if I found out you lost on purpose.”
Sam released a relieved breath. ”That”s good because I”m about to bring home this W.”
He wasn”t kidding.
Later—after Sam beat me by scoring another hole in one, this one even prettier than the last—we were walking with our ice creams, hands close enough to touch but not touching. I was still trying to take it in as Sam nudged my side.
”You look like you”re thinking deep thoughts.”
”I lost,” I said.
”Yeah.”
”I”ve never lost at anything.” When Sam”s eyebrows popped, I said, ”No, really. This is the first time I”ve ever not won, the only time I failed. It”s…different.”
”Well, at least you didn”t lose by much,” he replied. ”How do you feel?”
I took a moment to check in with myself.
Then I smiled.
”Not bad,” I said. ”Strangely, even though I”m a loser, I actually feel pretty fantastic.”
Sam laughed. ”Good, and before you say it, I know that counted as one of my questions, but I wanted to make sure I hadn”t ruined our date.”
I shook my head. ”You didn”t.”
We ate our ice cream in silence for a moment, leaning against the trunk of his car, the moon and stars shining brightly against a blue-black sky, and then Sam turned to face me.
”What are your plans for after graduation?” he asked.
”I”ll go to UNC, get my degree in music and business, land a great internship, preferably with a well-known conservatory in New York, graduate summa cum laude, play professionally for a few years, start my own freelance business composing, teaching violin, and focusing on lifting up young voices, make my mark on the world and hopefully make it a better place,” I said, sending him a smile. ”What about you? What are you going to do?”
Sam shrugged. ”I don”t know.”
I waited, but he didn”t say more. ”You must have some idea.”
”Nope,” he said.
”I thought you loved soccer,” I said.
”I like soccer. I like working at the garage too. But I like a lot of things, Kent.” He finished the rest of his ice cream, dusted off his hands, then said, ”I”m just not sure what I want to do with my life.”
My ice cream was all but forgotten as I stared up at him. ”You don”t sound scared at all,” I said in wonder.
Sam cocked a brow at me. ”That”s because I”m not.”
”I would be. I can”t even imagine what it would be like, not having a plan.”
”My mom and I talked about it. At our age, she wasn”t sure either,” he said. ”But even she had found her passion with dance. It”s like you with music. I just haven”t found that thing yet.”
”What thing?” I asked.
”My purpose,” he said. ”The thing that makes me want to get up every day and say this. This is what I was meant to do.”
Sam gave another small shrug.
”I figure I”ve got time. Right?”
”Right,” I said then shook my head. ”You”re kind of amazing.”
”I know,” he said which made me smile. ”Oh hey, look out.”
Sam leaned forward swiftly, catching the ice cream that had dripped onto my hand with his lips. My breath hitched as his tongue pressed between my fingers, licking up every drop. As his lips closed around the tip of my finger and gave a light suck, I felt shivers from head to toe. And it wasn”t because I was cold.
”You good?” he asked.
”Uh-huh,” I said.
”Let”s get you home. It is a school night.”
Giving my hand one last kiss, he smiled then went to hold open my door. As I got into the car, I couldn”t help thinking of all the things I was and wasn”t feeling. I probably should be down about losing at mini-golf. Or jealous that even without a plan, Sam seemed more at ease about his future than I felt at times. Or maybe I should”ve been appalled by Sam treating my hand as if it was his own personal ice cream cone.
But honestly?
I didn”t care about the loss; I wasn”t jealous but impressed by his confidence; and I was debating if I would ever wash my hand again.
As my heart sparkled, I just kept thinking one thing. Sam had delivered on his promise yet again.
Best first date ever.