“Ready to get your ass kicked?” he asks, stepping back from the hole to let me putt first.
I raise an eyebrow at him, placing my ball down on the mark and studying the curves of the course, making some assessments. I line up and hit my ball, watching it bounce off bricks from one side of the hill to the other. The little black ball disappears into the hole and I look back at him, grinning innocently, as I just shot a hole in one.
Ian gives a low whistle, crossing his arms over his chest. “Didn’t you say you’ve never been mini golfing before?” he asks.
“I did.” I shrug.
He laughs. “I feel like I’ve been swindled.”
“No, I’m telling the truth,” I quip, not offering any more information.
Ian steps up to the putting spot and whacks his ball, bouncing it from the wall all the way over to the other one. His second swing is a little more controlled, and his ball goes in. We mark our card appropriately and move to the next hole. This pattern of me doing one or two strokes better than him continues throughout all eighteen holes and at the end of the course, I win by about fifteen strokes. I sign my name on the top of the card for him and date it, then hand it over to him.
“Here, a souvenir of our first date,” I say, laughing. “Or rather, a souvenir of that time you got your ass kicked by a woman.”
“Okay, okay, tell me what’s up. How did that just happen?” he asks.
“My father was an amateur golfer, good enough to play in a few events in his day,” I say, still laughing.
Ian slowly nods his head up and down and rubs the stubble on his jaw, as all the pieces fall into place in his mind. “And little miss Cora was along for those practice rounds, I see.”
I nod, confirming his suspicions.
“Would the winner like to claim her prize?” he asks, his tone flirty and bold.
I rub my chin between my thumb and index finger, pretending to think about it. “I suppose a prize is in order.”
He steps closer, and for a moment I think he might try to kiss me, but I don’t know if I’m ready for that. Ian leans in and then to the side, pressing a kiss against my cheek.Okay, cheek kiss. That’s acceptable.
He leans back from me, grinning. “Ready for our next activity?”
“Yep!”
He nods beyond me and I turn, looking over my shoulder and taking in the sight of a go-cart track. Now this might get my blood pumping a little. I take off toward the gate, Ian trailing behind me, my eyes likely as big as saucers. Maybe I’m a big kid, but who doesn’t love go-carts?
Just when I think there are no fun men in this city anymore, Ian steps up and delivers. We race and Ian wins, then we head inside to play video games, eventually cashing in our tickets for a teddy bear that Ian gifts me. After that, we grab food next door at a burger place—and he doesn’t even judge me for ordering extra fries.
I check the time as we finish eating and note it’ll be getting dark soon.
“I know the best place for ice cream,” he suggests.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“How about a cone before I take you home?” he asks.
“Deal.” Hell, this is definitely one of the better dates I’ve been on. A little more time with Ian before he drops me off doesn’t sound like a bad thing at all.
As we walk back to his car, I text my friend Lyla. All I send are heart eye emojis, and she knows what that means. I’ll be texting her later about this date for sure.
Right as I’m about to give up hope on ever finding a decent guy, the clouds part and the sun shines on me.Finally.
3
Declan
I shovemy paintbrush into the glass of cloudy water, exasperated and stressed. I rub my hand over the stubble of my chin and exhale with so much force, it turns into a groan. The canvas on the easel in front of me is mocking me. The colors aren’t right. The composition is flawed at best. I knew this would happen. It always happens when I try to paint without a live subject.
This canvas is dead. I pull it off and set it down against the back wall full of unfinished canvases—also known as the graveyard.