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“Would you like me to go?” Darron asked, interrupting my thoughts.
I shrugged and got off the pad, my gaze going to the next stall over as all the friends there had fun hitting shitty shots.
Meanwhile, Darron was so stupidly good that I knew he did this a whole lot more than I’d ever be interested in witnessing.
A waitress came by and asked us if we’d like any food or drinks.
I’d begun to answer that I’d love a beer or a Coke or something, but Darron interrupted saying, “No. We won’t need anything.”
He didn’t even say thank you.
What the fuck?
Then he went back to hitting balls, and I was left wondering if it would be okay to ask him to take me home yet.
It’d been a solid ten minutes. Was that too short of a time?
I leaned back in the slightly uncomfortable chair and pulled out my phone.
“Would you like to go?” Darron asked after a solid twenty minutes of swinging.
It was at that point I looked up from the romance novel I was reading, checked the time on the wall, and closed my phone.
“Hmm?” I asked.
“Would you like to hit some more?” he asked.
“You mean, you’re going to share the pad and those balls with me?” I asked.
He frowned hard at me. “You didn’t say you wanted to hit.”
I sure didn’t.
“I’d like to go home now, if you don’t mind.” I paused. “Unless you’re interested in staying longer. I can just grab an Uber.”
I think he finally realized that he’d fucked up and thought to maybe salvage the date in the car, so he put his club up and headed toward me.
I stood up before he could get to me, then headed to the door.
I took the stairs instead of the elevator, causing him to curse and follow me despite his obvious desire to take the easier route.
When we got down to the car, I yet again opened my own door, then played with the hem of my dress as he tried to make small talk.
Joke was on him. I didn’t have any small talk in me after this date.
Then, as if in a comedy show where all the things that could go wrong did, a loud pop sounded. Seconds later, Darron was cursing and pulling over in the middle of an on ramp.
Cars passed by honking, and the Audi rocked as they blew past.
He got his phone out and muttered under his breath as he searched for whatever was so important in his phone.
It took a solid three minutes of this before I lost patience with him and got out of the car.
“Hey, give me a minute to call Triple A,” he grumbled.
Luckily, the tire that needed changing was on the right side, but with one glance at it, I knew he’d need a completely new tire and rim.
Hearing him talking from inside the car, I went to the back hatch of his expensive car and started my search for the spare tire.
