Chance

Dylan rolls his eyes. "Yes, they do have it bad. I think they  forgot we're here too."

Watching Ashlee's putt, he gives her a little smirk. "All you gotta do is pay attention to timing. Besides..." He looks around. There were no other players nearby, and Stacy and Eric were still back at the last hole. "Nobody else saw that shot."

Moving up, he demonstrates. "Here, I'll show you. All you gotta do is wait for the windmill propeller and guess how fast the ball is gonna travel..." He waits and putts, sending the ball through the windmill without a hitch. "...like so."

He turns and a grin slips out. "You try."


Eric's eyes continue to search Stacy's as she speaks, soaking in her words. As she takes off his hat, he swallows hard. He hadn't forgotten that she liked him better without his hat. Was this... real? It felt like it.

"Scars make a heart harder to win," he responds softly. A breeze combs through his now-free hair. He knew she had scars. So did he. Did that make this impossible?

"Do I stand a chance?" Once the words left his mouth, he regretted them. They were too forward. They implied too much. Too much for two people who were just getting to know each other. Too much for tonight.

He bites his lip, hoping he hadn't ruined the moment.