Page 9 of Hailey Goes to College

“Why, thank you,” I say, taking my stance and doing my best to ignore the giraffes. I line up my shot and gave it a gentle tap, sending the ball rolling towards the hole. It stops just short, and I groan.

“Not bad,” Ryan says, stepping up to take his shot. He hits the ball with a bit more force, and it sails past the hole.

“Looks like we’re both a little rusty,” I say, laughing.

“Speak for yourself,” Ryan says with a grin. “I’m just warming up.”

As we make our way through the course, the competition grows more intense, and so does the flirting. We tease each other mercilessly, laughing and joking the entire time. When Ryan manages to sink a particularly difficult shot, he does a little victory dance that puts me in stitches and has tears leaking from my eyes. He’s confident and he doesn’t care who sees him and it doesn’t come off as cocky either. He’s a great guy.

By the time we reach the final hole, it’s clear we are evenly matched. I line up my shot, determined to finish strong. I hit the ball, and it rolls perfectly, dropping into the hole with a satisfying plunk. I wave my golf club in the air and shimmy my hips being careful not to flash him my underwear under my dress.

“Nicely done,” he says, clapping. I can see his eyes travel from my legs back to my face and inwardly give myself a pat on the back for buying this dress months ago.

“But let’s see if I can tie it up,” he says as he makes his way over to the starting position.

He takes his shot, and for a moment, it looks like it’s going to go in. But at the last second, it veers off course, stopping just shy of the hole.

“Looks like I win,” I say, doing a little victory dance of my own.

“Fair enough,” he says, laughing. “You earned it.”

As he walks up to me, he reaches out his hand and I extend mine with my club thinking that he wants to return them. At the last second, he snakes his arm around my waist, gently pulling me towards him, and brings me flush up against him. He leans his head down and plants a kiss on my lips. For a second I’m surprised because I wasn’t expecting it. It only takes me that second before I use my free hand to reach up and hold his shoulder, softly kissing him back.

We stand there kissing each other, our clubs loosely hanging in our other hands. At some point, I drop my club so I can run my fingers through his hair and it’s just as soft as I imagined it to be. He wraps his other arm around me and when we finally stop kissing he drops his forehead to mine and whispers, “I’ve wanted to do that since the first day we met.”

I nearly swoon at his whispered words.

After returning our clubs, we head out to a nearby pizzeria that Ryan has already picked out. As we enter the fresh pizza smell wafts through the air making my mouth water. We find a booth near the window and settle in. I take in my surroundings and I can’t help but smile, this is exactly what I’ve seen in movies when a Chicago pizzeria is depicted. It’s a cozy place with checkered tablecloths, exposed brick walls, and little flickering candles on the center of the table.

A waitress appears and hands us each a menu and takes our drink orders. When she leaves the table Ryan begins to scan the menu. “What do you like on your pizza?” he asks me.

“I’m pretty open,” I say. “But I do love pepperoni and mushrooms.”

“Perfect,” Ryan says. “How about we get a large pepperoni and mushroom pizza to share?”

“Sounds great,” I agree.

“Have you ever had Chicago pizza?” he asks.

“Nope. This will be a first.”

He gives me a lopsided grin. “Well, you’re going to love it.”

We place our order, and as we wait, the conversation flows easily. Ryan tells me more about his life growing up in northern Illinois and working on his family’s farm.

“It’s hard work. Up at dawn, there’s always something to do. Something that needs fixed or an animal that’s hurt. But it teaches you a lot. At least, that’s what I told them in my admissions essay.”

“Ha! Well, I think it’s impressive. Phoenix doesn’t have farms.”

“I’ve not been. Not even to the Grand Canyon.”

“Well I don’t want to shock you, but it’s quite hot.”

He laughs. “It’s hot here in the summer, but I wouldn’t know what that’s like all year. You’ll have to remind me in January what warmth feels like.”

“Mmm…it feels like the surface of the sun. Sometimes it’s so hot you can’t go outside.” I sigh, playing with my straw wrapper. “But I do miss it sometimes.”

“What made you choose Chicago?” Ryan asks.

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