The Fluke

28 - Luke

"Spence, didn't anyone ever tell you that golf is a good walk spoiled?" Gavin quips as he pulls his clubs from the golf cart.

Spencer chuckles, setting up his ball on the first tee, "Actually, once your net worth surpasses seven figures you're required to play by rich person law, which explains why you know nothing about it."

The group falls into a brief moment of silence before the sound of a loud crack pierces the air. All eyes turn to watch as Spencer's drive soars up into the sky, easily reaching over 300 feet and landing on the fairway just a few feet from the green.

"How the hell are you hitting drives like that?" Nate reaches into the cooler on the golf cart and pulls out an ice cold beer. "If you're gonna be hitting swings like that all day I'm gonna have to get started on these."

"Do they give you golf lessons, too?" Slade holds up imaginary binoculars.

"No, no, my friends. That," he points the end of his driver toward the fairway, "is pure, God given talent."

We each take our turn and then make our way down the fairway towards our balls. There has been a sense of tension building in me since I got Spencer's text this morning requesting we all hit the links together. A day with the boys. Spencer, Slade, Nate, my favourite person ever Gavin, and myself.

I talked it out with Jules and we agreed I should try to be polite and make it through the day as unscathed as possible. There wasn't really any good excuse not to join and Jules didn't think being rushed to divulge the dirty details about Gavin to her brother was a good idea, and I agreed. But now I'm regretting it.

As we make our way through the course, the tension only grows more aggressive. Gavin and I exchanged forced pleasantries at the top of the day but it's clear things are strained. Every time Gavin speaks I can feel my blood pressure rising little by little. I think he's been easier to stomach while Jules has been right beside me, but without her here I feel untethered. It feels risky, honestly. I hope I can keep my promise to her not to air the dirty laundry once and for all. Hard temptation to resist.

As we progress through the course, I try to focus on the game and not on the animosity I'm feeling. Spencer and Slade crack jokes and make bets on who will have the lowest score, while Nate surprises us all at the third tee and opts to only make drives with his putter for the rest of the day.

Despite my efforts to ignore him, Gavin seems determined to get under my skin. He makes snide remarks about my swing and criticizes my putting. He's careful to make every comment about the game, but nonetheless his constant needling is making it increasingly difficult. His jabs and insults are getting more and more personal, sometimes only being said loud enough for me to hear them.

As we approach the final hole, I'm on edge. I can feel Gavin's eyes on me, waiting for the next opportunity to take a shot at me. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself down but it's no use. As soon as I pull my putter from my bag and go to line up what I hope will be my final putt of this godforsaken round of golf, Gavin lights me up again.

I turn to him, my voice trembling with anger. "What is your problem, Gavin?" I demand. "Why do you insist on every stroke being a competition? Can't we just enjoy a round of golf without you trying to one-up me at every turn?"

Gavin's smug expression fades and he appears taken aback by my outburst. For a moment, the con artist actually looks contrite. Then, to my surprise, he lets out a small laugh.

"You're right, Connelly," he says, clapping me on the shoulder. "I'm sorry if I've been a jerk. Let's just finish up this game and grab a drink at the clubhouse."

I clench my jaw but give him a terse nod. I've made it this far. I don't buy his apology for a second but he shuts up and steps away to chat with Nate.

"You alright, man?" Spencer asks from over my other shoulder.