Page 70 of Wild

Fox, bouncing on the balls of his feet, starts entering everyone’s names into the system.

“What is this?” Mia asks, taking a seat on the couch beside Kira and Rush—I take the empty spot next to her. “Like bowling but golf?”

“Yep,” Rush says, stretching his arm behind Kira. “Prepare to go down Little Hayes.”

“Little Hayes?” she snorts, shaking her head. “Surely you can come up with a better nickname than that?”

“Eh, I like it and Red, too.”

“Done,” Fox announces.

“I need a drink first,” Rush blurts, looking around to order. “How the fuck do you place an order here? The computer? A waitress?”

“You’re asking us?” Kira laughs. “You brought us here.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “I’ll be back. No one take my turn. I’m winning.”

He eyes each of us before he heads off to ask someone.

“I’m first anyway.” Fox grabs a golf club and lines up to play.

I’ve never played golf on a golf course, or done anything like this, so I’m sure I’ll make a huge fool of myself.

Fox makes a big deal of testing his swing and God knows what else before he finally hits the damn ball. It soars up and away and when it lands it’s pretty fucking far away. He turns to us and bows. “That’s how it’s done.” He points at me. “Your turn.”

I stand and shake my head.

“Good luck,” Mia says with a smile. She sticks her tongue out slightly and rolls her eyes as if to say this is going to get crazy.

If I know my friends, which I do, it’s not going to be crazy—it’ll be insane.

We’re a competitive bunch.

I take my turn, cursing when the ball doesn’t get anywhere close to the distance of Fox’s. Fox chortles from the couch, clutching his stomach as he points and laughs.

“Asshole.” I give him a shove as I pass him on my way to sit on the opposite side.

“An asshole who’s going to beat you.”

Next up is Cannon who does as abysmally as me. I feel a little better to not be the only one who sucks at this.

Rush, now back from getting beer for everyone, comes the closest to Fox’s range, Kira squeals and barely hits the ball, and then it’s Mia’s turn.

She stands up, her jeans hugging her ass. She smiles at me over her shoulder and winks.

She grabs the golf club and stands to take her turn. She adjusts her stance, takes a few practice swings, and then hits the ball.

It goes up, up, up and—“I believe I’m winning now,” she says to Fox before taking a dramatic bow.

I sit, open-mouthed, wondering what I witnessed.

Mia plops down beside me and I turn accusing eyes in her direction. “You’ve done this before,” I state.

She shrugs. “I’m basically a pro at mini-golf.”

“This isn’t mini-golf.”

She laughs. “My dad golfs some—I was the only one of us kids to take an interest in it so when he went, he’d usually take me. I got good at it.”

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