Five Over Par... Chapter Three: French Fries and Confessions
The ongoing adventures of Matt and Nikki continue
They ended up in Matt’s car with two cartons of fries, one vanilla milkshake, and the scorecard sitting on the dash like official evidence.
Nikki had lost. Barely. Suspiciously.
“I want a recount,” she said, dipping a fry into the milkshake.
Matt looked horrified. “That is a crime.”
“You brought me to a place where an animatronic comet sneezed smoke at me. You don’t get to judge my food choices.”
“That comet has worked there for fifteen years.”
“Then it should unionize.”
Matt leaned back in his seat, laughing under his breath. The glow from the mini-golf sign washed neon across his face, softening him in a way Nikki had not expected. He looked younger there. Less guarded. Less like he was trying to stand in the exact shape the world demanded.
She looked down at the scorecard.
“You really thought this would work?”
“What?”
“This.” She gestured toward the building, the fries, the whole absurd night. “Mini-golf. Space carpet. Kevin.”
Matt was quiet for a second.
Then he shrugged. “I thought dinner might make you polite.”
Nikki looked at him.
“And polite is bad?”
“Polite is easy,” he said. “You’re good at polite. Too good.”
The answer landed more gently than she expected. She reached for another fry, mostly to give her hand something to do. “And what were you trying to make me?”
“Not make you anything.”
He looked out through the windshield, toward the empty parking lot and the flickering stars painted on the glass.
“I just wanted to see what you looked like when you forgot to protect yourself.”
Nikki stopped chewing. There it was.
Far removed from being a line, or a move, or some rehearsed little piece of charm designed to slip under her ribs. Just the truth, sitting between them in a parked car that smelled like salt and sugar.
She turned her head toward him.
“And?”
Matt met her eyes.
“You’re beautiful when you laugh,” he said. “But you’re dangerous when you almost believe you’re safe.”
