Page 39 of Sweet Spot
“Me too.” He looks around the party. “I’d wager half the people here have practice or workouts in the morning.”
Cassidy and Peter rejoin us at the same time Erica and Chapman do. Once everyone is introduced, Erica tries to hand me another drink.
“No thanks,” I say. “Still not drinking.”
“Boooo.” She gives me a thumbs-down and then holds her hand out. “Give me your phone.”
“Why?”
“I’m going to call mister hottie swing coach and tell him that you need a night of drunken fun.”
I keep a strong grip on my phone because there is no chance I’m letting her call Lincoln.
“You’re still working with Linc?” Heath smiles.
“Yeah, he’s helping me with my swing.”
“That’s cool.” He takes out his phone as he continues to talk. “Do you like working with him? He isn’t too tough? I met this kid he worked with last year, he said Lincoln had him running a mile every day and weight training three to four times a week, getting something like a thousand swings in. All that on top of his regular team practices.”
Heath’s eyes are wide with disbelief. “All that for golf? I mean, no offense, I know you gotta be in shape, but that seems like a lot of work just to walk along the golf course and hit the ball. Is that what he has you doing?”
I grind my teeth as I answer. “Yeah, something like that.”
“Here, smile.” He holds his phone out in front of us and takes a picture before I can do anything but stare dumbly ahead. He chuckles as he taps on his phone and then pockets it.
“What was that?”
“I was texting Lincoln.”
“You told him I was here?” I look around like he can somehow see me from Scottsdale… or wherever he is today. I can’t keep track of him and believe you me, I’ve tried.
“Well, no. I just told him I bumped into you at a party and that he should go easier on you.”
“Great.” I wince as my phone vibrates in my front pocket. One guess who that is.
I pull it free and show the screen to Heath. “You did this!”
He plucks it out of my hand and answers. “What’s up, old man?”
I shoot a death glare at him, but he just gives me a wide, cheeky grin in return.
“Yeah, she’s right here.” He winks at me. “Nah, of course, I’m not drinking.” He takes a big swallow of his beer. “All right. Sounds good. Talk to you tomorrow.” He shoves the phone at me. “He wants to talk to you.”
Yeah, no kidding. I knew I should have stayed in. Three weeks of nonstop training. I’ve pushed my body harder than I thought possible. I’ve made more progress than I have in two years with Coach Potter too.
Working with Lincoln is amazing. I don’t want to screw it up, I just need a night out with my friends to unwind. Another tournament is coming up this weekend and Coach announced the starters today. I didn’t make the top five, again, and it stung.
I’m trying not to think about it, but it’s hard not to. And it isn’t as if I’m planning to slack off on my training tomorrow. I already have three alarms set so I’ll be sure to wake up with plenty of time to get in the run and weights before my first class. I might be tired, but I’ll push through.
I plan to tell Lincoln all of this as I take the phone with a shaky hand and put it to my ear. “Hi.”
“Are you all right?” he asks, the harshness I expected in his tone absent and instead he sounds genuinely concerned for my wellbeing.
I give Heath one last glare for good measure and walk away from the group to find a quieter place to talk. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just needed to get out of the dorm for a bit. I’m heading home soon.”
“I saw the roster for the tournament this weekend. I’m sorry.”
I sink into one of the patio chairs, embarrassed that he knows and that I hadn’t been the one to tell him.
