the first one • j. hughes

13

"Hey, so we were thinking of going golf—"

I cut Jack off, "Not happening."

"C'mon!"

"I'm staying here." I motion to the living room. "Empty house. Peaceful Saturday."

Jack puts his hands on his hips. "I'll kick you out."

"I'll just go back to the house that will stay empty then," I say. Then add, "Well until August when the wedding rolls around."

"Yeah? You think your mom trusts you to stay there that long? Alone?" He's got me there.

"I don't like golf. Especially not with you guys."

"We won't get competitive."

I cross my arms over my chest. "I don't believe you."

"Okay, we will," he admits. He beats me to my argument. "We won't keep track of your score. You won't be part of it. You'll be hittin' balls for the hell of it."

Really, I don't want to. Maybe if Ki was still visiting. She's not though. If I agree to go, I'll be out there on my own with these super competitive freaks playing a game I'm not the best at.

For as long as I can remember, I was the least competitive kid. While my siblings and the Hughes' got worked up over mistakes and losing, I shrugged and moved on. I love winning and don't care about a loss. They hate losing. Which is what lead to them hating being on a team with me until the only person who hadn't banned me from their team was Jack.

Jack must read my mind filled with hesitation. "I'll kick you out."

"Fine," I mumble. He smiles like an excited little kid and it almost makes it worth it. Almost.

* * * * *

"I thought people play golf to relax," I comment to Trevor who was saying some very colorful words under his breath as Quinn goes up to drive.

"Not me," he says. "I play to be better than Jack."

"Should probably start playing to relax. More likely to succeed on that than your current goal."

The crack of Quinn hitting the ball lines up perfectly with Trevor punching me in the arm. I gasp and send the back of my hand flying into his gut. He lets out a satisfying hmph. Luke must reach around behind me to smack Trevor upside the head because he makes a bit of a yelping noise and rubs the back of his skull.

"They're legally obligated to back up the other in a fight," Quinn says. "Can't hit one without the other hitting you."

I shake my head. "Not true. Lukey's not protected."

"She makes me fight my own battles."

"He chose it. And to even have to defend me."

"I did not—"

"Ken, it's your go," Jack says.

My best, dramatic deep breath comes. "Does it have to be?"

"You're playing," he states. He practically forces a club into my hand.

Another dramatic deep breath and I go to set up my drive. My mind races through all the other times I've golfed. Dad used to take us golfing all the time but I tended to quit halfway through the course. I seriously do not like golf. How did I end up here?

I squint down at the ball, praying it'll go where I need it to. I'm about to pull back and swing. However, the peanut gallery decides to start giggling a little too loud. I look back at them. Trevor's trying so hard not to laugh out loud that he's leaning his forehead against the side of Jack's arm, who has a hand covering his mouth to keep his laughter in.