Dead Ends // Hugh Jackman

Chapter 19

I'm on a losing streak, much to my chagrin. Sports isn't my thing. Never has, never will. Hugh, however, excels at it.

Every shot he takes, he scores. His current total is 42, while mine remains at 15. He has more than double, and I'm not sure there's a way to catch up to him so far into the game, especially when we have only 5 minutes of play left. I can't believe we've been here for almost an hour already. It's weird how time flies when you're having fun.

The only downside is that I'm not winning. It's not everything. I know it isn't, but it would've been cool to say that I beat Hugh Jackman at golf. I'm sure there's not many people who can. Wishful thinking, I know. Pretty impossible actually.

Hugh has just ended his turn when he comes towards me. "Your round, Rinnie."

Hearing him use that nickname makes me feel weird. I can't explain it. I don't exactly hate it but knowing the rest of it makes me like it a little less.

I get up with a slight shake of my head, surveying the golf clubs. I've been using the same one for every turn, because I can't tell the difference. This time though Hugh comes up beside me and points to a specific one.

"Use a wedge. It's easier to aim at a hole from a short distance rather than farther. As a beginner, you're more likely to gain points that way."

I feel his breath as he talks against my shoulder. At first, I'm barely able to process what he says but get the gist as he pulls the club out for me.

Glimpsing up at him, his face next to mine, I give him an incriminating stare. "You're just telling me this now?"

All he does is give me a teasing grin. "Is it bad if I say I really wanted to win the first game?"

Bad? No. Cruel? Yes.

He's just been watching me golf incorrectly and didn't say a single word about it. He just let me keep embarrassing myself.

But, I get the feeling that's not the real reason, because he says it jokingly.

"Anything else I should know that you're not telling me?"

He sighs softly, raising his brows in a way that lets me know he has plenty to let me in on.

"You've been holding the club wrong too."

Of course, I have. Can't say I'm surprised, but I really wish he would've said something sooner. Why did he wait so long?

I stand in front of the contraption and wave the wedge in front of the motion senser so a ball rolls out. I'm about to bend down to place it on the tee when Hugh beats me to it.

He stands to the right of me as I take a hold of the club.

"Can I," he trails off, seemingly hesitant to ask, "Can I show you?"

Referring to my grasp, I slowly nod my head. I'm thinking he'll just place my hands in the proper placement from where he is, leaning one arm over my own, but he doesn't.

Hugh moves around me until he's almost directly behind me. Is he about to do what I think he is?

His arms circle me, hands laying on top of mine.

I try to not let his touch affect me or my breathing and focus on him moving my fingers further down the club, placing my left below my right instead of how I had it before. His grip tightens around mine and loosens slightly. I do the same, not fully understanding what the point in that was.

It makes him laugh. He's so close I can feel the rumble in his chest as he does. It's not loud. It's airy and gentle. It lightly blows at the top of my ear, where his head is next to mine.