Page 19 of Steady Stroke
“Youmighthave gotten good news? Doesn’t the major difference between good and bad news basically define the two?”
“It’s complicated because of my head injury.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Not your fault. Anyway, I don’t want to think about that right now. It’s in the future, and today I want to have some fun. I haven’t had a fun day out in . . . fuck if I know.”
Emmett could do with some fun, as well. “It’s been a long time for me, too.”
“Then let’s go find some fun. Lead the way, local boy.”
He chuckled at the nickname. “Do you have a preference for pirates versus a safari?”
Lincoln’s lips dipped in a frown. “What?”
“Trust me.” Emmett couldn’t explain the insistent need to keep Lincoln’s spirits up, or his sudden urge to make this the best day out ever.
“Pirates, then.”
“Arrighty, matey.” His pathetic attempt at a pirate’s accent sent Lincoln into a giggle fit that made his cheeks pink up and his entire body shake. He had a musical laugh that Emmett wanted to hear over and over today.
For the first time in almost two years, Emmett couldn’t wait to simply hang with a friend and be a normal nineteen-year-old, far removed from the tragedies of his past.
Even if only for one day.
After three rounds of mini golf, Lincoln was positive of three things.
One, he totally sucked at putt-putt. His par was six or seven, while Emmett managed a max of three per hole. Not cool.
Two, he was fucking hot as hell under the blazing summer sun, and he’d removed his sleeveless T-shirt and tucked it into the hem of his cargo shorts in the middle of round two. He had no idea how Emmett was comfortable playing in a regular T-shirt and jeans. Sweat had plastered the shirt to his back, but he didn’t remove it or roll his jeans up.
The jeans were a weird choice for a beach summer, anyway, when everyone else was wearing bathing suits, board shorts, or swim trunks.
He’d ask about them over a cold drink and lunch, which led him to number three: He really, really liked spending time with Emmett.
Reallyliked.
They didn’t talk about much more than surface stuff while they putted balls into holes, around the cheesiest pirate-themed course he had ever laid eyes on. And he didn’t actually mindthe banal conversation, because it didn’t feel awkward or forced. Standing next to Emmett, existing within his proximity, had a strangely calming effect.
He also liked that every time he glanced at Emmett, Emmett glanced away, as if he’d been caught staring at Lincoln. By their third and final round playing, it had become a kind of game for Lincoln. To see how many times he could make Emmett look away. He didn’t even care that his sunglasses gave him an advantage in the game. He could study Emmett in a less obvious way.
He could see the slender body beneath the somewhat oversized clothes Emmett wore. He could stare at the way Emmett’s hips swung slightly each time he teed off. He watched the way the tip of Emmett’s tongue poked out from between plump lips when he lined up a sink shot. Little things that endeared him to Lincoln a bit more each and every time.
It also allowed him to observe the way Emmett tensed up when they crossed paths with other couples or groups. His body shrank a bit, as if trying to be less noticeable. Sure, Lincoln occasionally jumped when someone nudged him in passing, or accidentally brushed his arm or back, but this was different. Emmett didn’t want people to see him.
Scratch that.
Emmett only wanted Lincoln to see him, because when it was just them, those walls fell back down. Emmett’s anxiety levels seemed to drop around him, and he loved being able to give Emmett even the tiniest amount of peace. God knew Lincoln could sympathize with anxiety issues. The big problem was he didn’t know the source of Emmett’s anxiety, and he was pretty sure that their first time out wasn’t the right time to ask.
The last thing he wanted to do was scare Emmett off.
After they putted their ball up a narrow ramp to the final hole, which fed it back to the main cage—well, Emmettdid; Lincoln’s ball fell off course and into the wider chute at the bottom—they turned in their putters.
“So where to for lunch?” Lincoln asked.
“Lunch?” Emmett didn’t stop walking, but his surprise was clear in his raised eyebrows.
“Well, sure. I mean, I’m starving and could really use a cold drink. How about you?”
