Page 75 of The Perfect Putt

Miles pulls back, smiling against my lips. “I love you, Red.”

“I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

Keep reading for a glimpse into Miles’ friend Jason’s story!

Jason Kingsley

Miles: She said yes!!!

I smile down at the text and attached photo of Miles and Ellie as I walk through the hall of the practice facility. Good for them. They’re perfect for each other, and after hearing Miles bash the idea of marriage for years, it’s nice to see him growing and changing.

I’m typing out my response when I run into something and my phone slips out of my hand, clattering to the floor with another identical one.

“I’m so sorry–” Willow’s apology cuts off when her dove gray eyes meet mine. She doesn’t say anything more, but the way her eyes narrow makes me think she’s taking back her apology in her head.

“Sorry,” I say as I bend down to grab both of our phones. “I should have been paying more attention.”

“It’s fine,” she replies.

I thought by now she’d warm up to me, but it hasn’t happened yet. I found out that she loves watermelon Twizzlers, so per Miles' advice I started buying packs for her and putting funny notes on them before hiding the packages in places I know she’ll find them. I’ve never seen her reaction to finding one, but my guess is she’s as unamused as she is now.

The nicest thing she’s said to me is the quiet thank you she gives me after each time she finds the Twizzlers. I’ve thought about stopping, but it’s become pretty fun for me to come up with what to write on the notes. And I might have a bulk box of watermelon Twizzlers sitting at my house. So it’s either give them to her, or start handing them out to everyone I know. I tried them myself when I first started this whole thing, and I think they’re disgusting. They taste like straight chemicals. And that’s coming from a guy who went through an energy drink phase in high school.

Willow takes one of the phones out of my hand before I can see which one belongs to me. I flip the other one over. The screen lights up to reveal a lock screen background. It’s pink with the words one day at a time in a font that reminds me of the 70s.

“I think you took the wrong one,” I say, holding her phone out to her. “I do like your lock screen though.”

“Oh, sorry I should have checked.” This time, she said sorry on purpose. Maybe the Twizzlers are working?

She hands my phone back to me, the screen still showing the photo of Miles and Ellie grinning, Ellie’s hand taking up half the frame as she shows off her ring.

“My friends got engaged,” I explain, holding up my screen toward her. “I was responding to them when I ran into you.”

“I’m surprised you have time for friends, what with all those hours you spend admiring yourself in the mirror.” And here we go. There’s the Willow I know. Comparing me to Narcissus is her favorite pastime.

“It’s difficult,” I say, morphing my expression into something somber and pious. “But I feel like it’s my duty to gift people with my presence.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she says and starts to walk around me.

“It was good to see you too,” I say over my shoulder.

If I had the energy, I might poke at her a little more. It’s too fun getting her worked up. But after a long practice, I just want to go home. To my empty house out in the country.

I sigh and look down at my phone again. Not for the first time, jealousy flares in my chest. Two of my closest friends are getting married now. Meanwhile I spend my days playing football and writing notes to a woman who hates me for reasons I cannot ascertain.

I’ll just have to stay positive and take things like Willow’s screensaver said: one day at a time.