Page 23 of The Blind Date

“But we went out for a roast last weekend,” I pointed out.

"I know, but our new friends invited us to join them for Sunday roast this weekend, and we didn't want to cancel our plans with you."

“What new friends?” I narrowed my eyes in suspicion.

"Our new golf friends."

"Golf?" I quirked an eyebrow in surprise. I knew that Mum and Dad had taken up golf a few months ago, but I didn't realise it was something that would stick for so long. They hadn't come across a hobby they had stuck to longer than my longest relationship.

"You know that we've been playing more golf lately.”

“Yes, but I didn’t think you guys were that serious about it.”

"Oh, we're very serious about it,” he chuckled. "We're so serious that we've formed a team of four and entered ourselves in a little casual, low-stakes competition."

"That’s impressive." I fist-bumped Dad before moving into the kitchen to grab a snack for the road. Even though they were both on health kicks and lived a far healthier life than me, they always had the best snacks. No doubt reserved for when I visited. When they weren't annoying and overbearing, my parents were the best in the world and far better than I probably deserved. “So, tell me more about this competition. How does it work?”

"We've made it through the first round already which has put us in the quarter-finals."

"Quarter-finals? That's pretty cool."

“Eh, it’s all right. Things will start getting interesting if we make it into the semi-finals.”

“Oh, you definitely will.”

“Thanks, kiddo.” He smiled warmly at me.

“Can I come to watch you guys play sometime?" I asked.

“Sure, that’d be great. I’ll text you the date.”

"Thanks, Dad."

“Great, you’re ready,” Mum noted as she joined us in the living room. “I think we have just enough time to swing by Saffron’s apartment.”

“Why do we need to swing by my apartment?” I frowned in question.

“I thought you might want to change.”

“Why would I want to change? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” My frown deepened as I glanced down at my outfit.

As I thought it would be the typical Sunday roast where we ate at my parent’s dining table and then lounged in front of the TV watching a movie–I had my fingers crossed for Titanic–I had chosen a casual outfit of an oversized jumper, leggings, and a pair of ankle boots. It was comfortable, but I would have dressed up a little if I knew we were dining out this evening.

“Did your dad not tell you we’re having dinner with friends this evening?”

“He did.”

“And you still don’t want to change?” Mum quirked a questioning brow at me as if she was surprised that I hadn't rushed to change already.

“Nope.”

“Come on, ladies,” Dad chuckled as he jingled his keys in the air between us, always playing the middleman. “We’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.”

“Fine,” Mum sighed dramatically before fishing for something in her purse. “Here’s my mascara. Use it. It’ll make you look more awake and less like you’re suffering from a hangover.”

"I don't think it's very hygienic for us to share mascara." I pulled a face, but regardless, I asked for a mirror and proceeded to apply a few coats of mascara to my lashes. It wasn’t much, but it wasn’t going to get any better than this tonight.

“Why can’t you just tell us how the date with Cedric went?” Mum all but whined from the front seat, exchanging the mascara for a tube of lip gloss that I was obliged to accept.

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