Page 48 of Undressed In The Crease

I look around for something else in the area, but it’s the only thing off the highway. Besides a big overgrown wooded area.

Yup, he’s going to kill me.

Nick is going to kill me and dump my body in that wooded area. No one will ever find me.

“I’m sorry I really don’t know anything about why you missed the goal or anything about why you wrapped your knee. I just noticed you were off. Your game was a little off that week. It could’ve been anything. Like nerves or finals or a girl. I really don’t know. And you don’t have to explain anything. I was just pissed off about Marie and watching the horrible ice dancers bomb week after week looking for a story. I probably just made it up in my head.”

“Lenny! You’re babbling again.” Nick stops me from vomiting out words.

I close my mouth and hold my lips together tight.

“I’m trying to figure out how much I can trust you,” he explains. “Technically, you are the enemy. If I knew you were a journalist I wouldn’t have had sex with you.”

Wow.That stings.

“I write highlights about dancing, remember? I’m not the enemy.” I sulk down in my seat and stare out the window.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean I regret anything. I just, I don’t want to talk about my knee or about the playoffs last spring.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I sprained my knee and it was hurting. You’re right. It dipped down when I missed the save.”

“You’re lucky it was just a sprain. You must’ve been wearing that shirt.”

I remember the few games before that. There was a breakaway and a forward slammed right into Nick.

Nick saved the goal, but that’s probably how he hurt his knee.

Anyone would be lucky to walk away from that without a serious career ending injury.

He laughs, breaking the tension.

“That shirt’s only lucky for the first game.” He smirks at me.

Ok, so he’s not going to murder me. Not yet at least.

“Ok, I won’t mention it or talk about it again.” I relax a bit.

“Come on, let's go.” Nick jumps out of the car and heads to the door of the mini golf place.

I follow him. If Nick Miller says ‘let’s go.’ You go.

Especially when you’re stranded in the middle of nowhere with him.

He holds the door open for me and goes right up to the desk ordering two clubs and a few tokens. They aren’t putters.

I don’t know anything about golf, but I’ve played mini-golf before.

These clubs are drivers, I think, or something like that. He leads me through a glass door opposite the mini golf course.

We walk down a hallway to a machine where he puts the tokens in to get balls into a basket.

Nick fills up two baskets and gives me the clubs to hold so he can carry them up the steps behind us.

We walk through another glass door and out to a platform for the driving range. The overhang lights up as we walk out a few rows to be in the middle. It was either empty from the rain or just because this place doesn’t really look like a hot spot for golfers.

“Have you ever been before?” Nick asks while setting the buckets down.

I shake my head keeping my lips tightly closed, afraid I’ll start babbling again if I open them.

Nick takes one of the clubs from me feeling it out and taking a few swings. He picks up a ball and holds it out in front of me.

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