Page 11 of Fraternizing with the Enemy
Logan was looking at me, but there was something strange about his expression. Almost… unnerved. “Yeah,” he said, and then the cashier called us up to pay.
Logan paid for our rentals, and just like that, we were sent off to the first hole. It was just a simple one, a plain patch of green with a white plastic cup at the end. No obstacles, no hills. “The first one is always the easiest,” Logan told me as he waved his hand. “Ladies first.”
The urge to groan rose up within me again as I awkwardly placed my red ball on the green.Don’t think about it,I told myself, lining up my putter.Don’t think about how ridiculous you look right now. And in a dress, too. This is so humiliating.
I tapped the ball, and it sailed forward—straight into the easiest hole known to man.
Logan clapped for my basic win. “Giving me a run for my money, I see.” He dropped his black ball onto the green, lining up his swing. He hit his ball too hard, and it knocked against the back before rolling to a stop three feet from the hole. “Dang.”
As lame as I felt, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the dejected curve to his shoulders. “You don’t have to pretend to be bad for my sake.”
“I’m flattered you think I’m pretending.” Logan tapped the ball, and it rolled the three feet into the hole.Logan threw me a teasing look. “Just don’t know how to rein in my strength, I’m afraid.”
I chuckled again, louder this time. “Okay, Hercules. I’m winning, technically.”
“Technically.” Logan scribbled down our numbers on the scorecard he’d gotten from the office. “But we’ll see how long that lasts.”
“Pretty confident for a guy who missed the easiest hole.”
Logan shot me a sidelong smirk. “Pretty confident for a girl who hasn’t played since she was in pull-ups.”
I gasped. “I wasnotin pull-ups at six!”
Logan just laughed.
The second hole was a bit more complex, with a few faux logs set into the green. They were angled, creating an almost chevron path to the hole on the other side. There was an easy, straight shot, but if you were off even slightly, the ball would catch the edge of the logs and bounce to the side.
I lined my ball up, even going as far as to do a practice swing before putting. My ball went straight—until it clipped a hidden raised patch of green, ricocheting off. It bounced off the green completely, launching into the bushes. My jaw dropped. “I didn’t even hit it that hard!”
“There’s a science to mini golf.” Logan’s voice was wise as he bent down to retrieve my rogue ball—wise, and almost smug. “Trajectories and probabilities. Harder than it looks, huh?” He tried and failed to fight his smile as he placed my ball back in front of me.
I narrowed my eyes at the green, feeling my cheeks grow pink. “As if,” I scoffed, lining my putt up again. This was the firstrealhole. I couldnotsuck.
Except I did. My ball clipped the log again, sendingit to the edge of the green. At least it stayed on the course this time. I ended up getting my golf ball into the hole after five swings.Five. Par was two.
Logan got it in one.
“I’m winning,” he announced to me with a beautiful glint to his eyes. “Technically.”
After he putted a hole-in-one on Hole 3—and I putted another five—I frowned at him. “Are youhustling me?”
“Who, me?” He leaned his weight onto his putter, turning away to hide his smile. “No. Never.”
I scoffed in disbelief.
He so was. As we played through Minnie’s Mini Golf, it became increasingly clear that I was playing with some mini golfing pro.
And it became increasingly clear that Logan wasfun—and not the kind of fun I was used to. There was a mix of unbridled energy and steady composure to him. He knew exactly how to tease and joke without ever crossing the line. There was no biting sarcasm underneath his words; nothing about him felt sharp-edged or mean-spirited.
In my mind, there was something so…puppyabout him. Bright-eyed, quick to grin, full of boundless energy. Something so… lovely.
And with every putt, I found myself drawn to him even more. The way he leaned down to line up a shot, even going as far as squinting one eye shut. The way his smile crinkled at the corners, and how it always seemed to stay there. The way he claimed not to care whether if he won or lost, just that I was laughing. It was infuriating, in the most charming way.
I thought about how I’d almost refused to get out ofhis car in the parking lot. I couldn’t believe how close I’d come to missing this.
“Okay.” Logan straightened from the picnic table he’d been leaning on, lifting the scorecard. “Tallied up all our putts. Drum roll, please.”
I leaned down to drum my palms along the picnic table’s surface.
