I forgot how fucking awful I was at golf.
I break down into an instant nervous giggle, the embarrassment filtering into my system. I make attempt number two and fail; by number three, I’m biting my lip and looking over my shoulder to see Zane in a fit of silent laughter. He always found my awfulness at this sport a hilarity, why would I change a habit of a lifetime?
"Here, let me help you," Zane comments and places his own club into his bag.
He comes to stand behind me, cloaking me with his body. He slides his hands down my arms slowly, and sensually, until he reaches my wrist. His hands turn gently to cover mine and wrap around the top of the golf club.
"You make sure you've got a really tight grip so it doesn't slip from your grasp when you give it a swing," he teaches me patiently, his hands deliberately giving a demonstration of how to grip properly. "Then you make sure your legs are placed evenly apart." He releases my hands only to run his hand down my thigh to push my legs apart. "I know you can open wide, Amelia, don't put up a fight now."
I giggle and obey him. I sidle my feet a little more until he puts his hand up to stop. Resuming his position, Zane's hand curls back into place and he stands up a little to allow me to straighten my back. With ease, he pulls my hands and the club back a few inches, moving back to make sure the aim is adjusted correctly before he forces me to take a full-bodied swing. The ball flies from the tee with ease, and I know I want to try on my own now.
“Let me try that without your help,” I command, shaking him off. He made it seem easy; it’s time to try it without his guidance. He releases me, taking a few appreciated steps back. My cockiness overrides all other talents, and I ready myself alone this time. I do as he had shown, take the swing, but the ball doesn’t go nearly as far.
“Your footing’s wrong; it’s making your body twist wrong,” he guides gently from the sidelines.
“Okay,” I tell him and listen. I correct my body and line my club up with the side of the golf ball. I make sure my body is fine while running through a list of mental notes. I check my aim and then take a swing. This time, when the side of my favorite club hits the white ball, it forces the small sphere to shoot off with a hasty speed. And it carries on going nearly to the end of the range before it drops with lost momentum.
I watch as my ball flies through the air, only landing a few feet from where Zane’s had last landed. I jump around and then fling myself at him. I jump excitedly again, squealing as I do so. Then the realization hits me so coldly, I slow until I’m just holding onto him. Slowly, I pull myself away from him, my arms not wanting to release him completely. All my senses come to life with just the proximity of our bodies. The harshness I had toward him never entered the building today, stolen by my father’s prior acts. I entered this place vulnerable and led wholly by my heart, and for once, I didn’t care.
I look straight into his eyes, and there’s a forced silence between us for a moment. We just stare and forget about what we were doing. I long to kiss him, but I can’t give into this. I can’t allow myself to get deeper than I already am.
I realize I’m a drowning mess. It’s a beautiful death I’ve enlisted and each delicate breath he steals from me is a delightful giving. Zane can have every part of me – my heart, my mind, my body. Everything that makes me human is his and everything that makes me the woman who loves him is his, too. Sadly, the consequence of that means he also gets the death warrant signed in blood by my father.
It’s as we stand together that I hear a faint murmur of music in the background. It draws me back to where we are and reminds me that this isn’t a forever state. We both look out and see a boat, dressed up to the nines for a party. The music is pumping already. The tune is faint and just melodic, but I remember hearing this before. I go to part completely from him, but Zane resists, his arms constricting my waist.
“Remember that first night?” Zane asks, obviously identifying the music. “We slowed danced in the middle of that party to this song. It felt like no one else was around us. It was just you and me.” He gives a solemn smile, an act he seems to have mastered when he remembers what we used to have. “I knew then, that everything you made me feel was because it was right.”
“But it wasn’t, was it?” I ask back in all but a whisper. “It felt so right that you had to leave me.” Again, my eyes water, and I don’t think he quite understands how I barely survived that day. Nor does he realize that his mistakes have made him a marked man. “I won’t ever forget that day, Zane.”
“Then don’t,” he comments back. “Remember it well, Amelia, because I am not that man anymore.” He leans his head forward, placing his forehead to mine. “Let’s try again.”