As it turns out, I am a decent mini-golfer, but Colin is genuinely a master of the craft. he is currently in the lead by two points, with a lower score than Dienaba and Ousmane, who is tied with me for third place.
We are playing the second-to-last hole of the course, consisting of sending our balls to the left on the synthetic neon purple grass, up a slope with wooden obstacles shaped like small glowing elephants, then down into the hole, which is intermittently blocked by a mechanic wall, between the legs of an orange and green giraffe.
It is Ousmane's turn.
Laughing, he asks us for the umpteenth time, "Wait, what color is mine again?"
Dienaba, half-annoyed, tells him, "Look at your stick, mon amour. We don't have all day!"
The Senegalese man lifts the putter in front of his eyes, to look at the fluorescent yellow handle.
"It's easy, Ousmane! You already know you're not pink, right!?" Mi-Young encourages him.
Scott laughs alongside us, tightening his arm around her frail shoulders and leaning down to peck her temple.
His fiancée pokes his chest with the bright pink extremity of her golf club, adding, "Thanks, hubbie."
"Not yet," he teases her.
The sublime woman rolls her artificially green eyes.
"If it were up to him, we'd be married already," she proudly states, in my direction.
"Yeah, I know," I chuckle.
According to Scott's thoughts, that is the truth, even if his beloved's clumsy mini-golf hits have made him dead-last in our amateur ranking; she keeps accidentally knocking his ball into random corners with hers.
The redheaded paramedic reminds her jokingly, as she steps up to the game structure: "Remember, Mimi, we're playing golf, not pool, okay?"
Mi-Young sticks out her tongue at him momentarily before hitting her pink ball. The small lustrous sphere bounces randomly, quickly bumping into mine and sending both of our golf balls further away from the hole.
"Wow, thanks," I laugh and, shrugging, she grins at me.
In the end, Dienaba wins by a whopping single point, which she believes to be a remarkable distinction between their scores.
"Take that, White boy! Suck it up and cry, you loser!"
Nearly cackling, she hugs her boyfriend. Laughing, the latter throws all of us a look that plainly expresses an apology.
"That kinda felt personal." Colin's hushed comment is amused, but his eyes betray an underlying turmoil.
/It's not my fault if I'm better at mini-golf than a Black woman, I didn't mean to insult her. I probably said something out of line earlier... Is it more racist or less racist to even be thinking about this?! Or is it sexism? And, now, Tanza's going to think I'm some idiot..! But if I mention it, it's just going to make everything awkward. There's a chance Dienaba did not feel persecuted by our rivalry. I thought it.../
I wish I could comfort the well-meaning paramedic, however a normal human could not have guessed that all of this self-questioning is rushing though his head.
On our way to relinquish our equipment, I lightly punch his right shoulder.
Startled, he chuckles, breathing out, "What's up?"
I joyfully begin.
"You played like a pro. You're..." I smile at him, noticing that my action prompted his arm to move out and our hands are closer. "Great."
YOU ARE READING
Fascinating Villains
Action[ONGOING] "You're delusional. I should've seen it before..." ~~~~~~~ Tanza is an agender paramedic. They rely solely on themselves, and the last thing they need is for an incredibly attractive supervillain to disturb their (relatively) quiet existen...
