Page 20 of Drop the Gloves
Evan tuned him out, waited, then shot.The ball went across the bridge, teetering a little at the end, but landing within an inch of the hole.Evan clenched his fist and mouthed a pleased, “Yes!”
“Hey, nice!Way better than when I tried.”
“You tried to saucer it over the bridge,” Evan said as he walked around to the hole.He tapped the ball in and allowed himself a few seconds to be happy about his score so far.
“What do you do?Imagine you’re going five-hole?”
“I don’t visualize it like hockey,” he said.“They’re completely different.”
Barczyk raised an eyebrow and looked between the putter in one hand, the ball in the other, then back at Evan.“I don’t think they’re as unalike as you think, bro.We can do Topgolf sometime.I’ll show you what I mean.”He dropped the orange ball—Dalton’s ball—and squared up at the start.“Dalty’s been having such a terrible game today.Think he’ll make it in less than ten?”
“Doubtful.”Evan grabbed his ball and stepped off the course.
He snickered and watched some truly terrible mini-golf, amusing only because of Barczyk’s theatrics.Back-handed shots while facing away from the course.Squatting down so he could use the putter like a pool cue.Making everything a bounce shot instead of trying to take the most direct path.It was impressive how many ways he could find to play mini-golf wrong.Of course, Evan could argue that he’d found as many odd ways to exploit ice hockey too, so it shouldn’t be that surprising he’d do it with any sport or game.
When they reached the end, there was a scoreboard that showed their final scores, and Barczyk insisted they take a selfie with it in the background to show Dalty.
Abs: 13
Barzy: 20
Dalty: 74
Evan smiled, then froze when Barczyk slung his arm around Evan’s shoulder (no easy feat given their height difference) and pulled him down.Evan watched on the camera display as Barczyk made a duck face; Evan belatedly tried not to look constipated.Neither of them quite succeeded.
“Perfect,” Barczyk said gleefully as he released Evan.He started messing around on his phone, and Evan took a step back to get some air.“Gonna put this on Insta.What’s your username?I’m gonna tag both of you guys, even though this is obviously a Dalty callout post.”
“Evanabernathy21,” he mumbled.His shoulder had felt too warm with Barczyk’s arm around it, and now it was too cold.
“How professional,” Barczyk said, though he was too busy with his phone to put his usual teasing tone behind it.
Before Evan could ask what Barczyk used as his handle, his phone pinged with a notification.
@bardownbarzy has tagged you in an Instagram post.
It was certainly on brand; Evan had to give him that.
At the Puttshack with my boys @evanabernathy21 and @eddydalton78 - par for the course is 15 and Abs beat it!?Dalty don’t quit your day job
Evan hit the like button.He figured it was time to head back home.His head felt a lot clearer, even after having Barczyk for company.
“Let’s grab dinner,” Barczyk said, dragging Evan by the sleeve of his sweatshirt toward the bar.“I’m starving.Who knew you could work up an appetite with mini-golf?”
“I uhm...uh?—”
They were seated at the bar with two more milkshakes in front of them and burgers on the way before Evan had properly formed a sentence.Well shit.
“You’re good at mini-golf,” Barczyk said.“I can see why you score so much.Even with a goalie, the net’s a lot bigger than those holes.”
“I don’t score that much,” Evan said.“I haven’t scored yet this season.”
Barczyk shrugged.“But you did good in the pre-season.You’ve got good hands and a wicked shot.Good game sense, too.I mean, the only thing really stopping you from being in the top six is…” He looked at Evan expectantly.
“That I’m not good enough?”
“What?No.Jesus, Abs, have you been listening to me at all?You’ve got all the skills.You just don’t take advantage of your other assets.”
“My other assets?I don’t?—”
