Page 5 of This Changes Everything

“Not bad.” A boy’s voice cracked from behind me.

Three teenage boys had golf bags slung over their shoulders, their clubs cracking together as they walked. The spikes at the bottom of their shoes clattered like a chorus over the rain. Not many people wore spikes at the club, as they were becoming outdated and even banned on some courses, but these guys still did. The two oldest boys confidently strode up to my dad and me, while the youngest trailed behind.

“Hi, Dr. McCain.” The oldest boy’s wobbly voice broke through his wide smile.

The youngest looked directly at me, and I had to look away, as if I had caught myself accidentally staring at an eclipse. He had coffee-colored eyes and unruly brown hair with streaks of auburn hidden beneath his wild, wet curls. His nose and cheeks were delicately freckled, as if they had been painted on by hand. When I gathered the courage to look at him again, it felt like I knew him. It was like he had already been in my life, circling the outside, knocking on my door as steadfast as my heartbeat, and when we actually looked at each other for the very first time, the quiet knocking stopped.

I felt so deeply exposed in my white Costco polo.

White shirt, no jacket, forgotten training bra, Dad, cute boy, buds. For the love of God, someone kill me.

Hopefully the boys couldn’t hear me curse my boobs and my lack of foresight to cover them the hell up.

“You boys playing in the rain today?” My dad pulled out his enormous driver in its protective sleeve. I was incredibly thrilled when he didn’t forget to grab my dinky three wood, hidden beneath a stuffed orange tiger sleeve. “Try this one now, Ellie-Bee,” my dad insisted, handing me my club and throwing the tiger over the top of my bag.

Nooooooo! Not the tiger stuffy!

The oldest boy flicked his eyes over to me briefly before answering my dad. “We’re just out to hit some balls.”

After hitting a shot straight down the center of the range, my dad decided it was time to introduce us. “Ellie, these are the Campbell boys. Blair, Cameron, and Rory.”

I looked over, and all three boys stood wearing rain jackets and khakis, looking back at me as if I were an alien.

Blair, the oldest at fifteen, had chestnut-brown hair that swooped and brown eyes with long lashes. He had noodle-like arms and legs, and you could tell in an instant that he was the flirt, with a smile that overtook his entire face. Cameron, the middle brother at thirteen, was lanky, like Blair, and had short, blondish-brown hair and gray-blue eyes. He was looking at me like he wasn’t sure about me, with a slightly confused frown. Rory, the youngest, was twelve like me, and pretending not to look at me at all through his curly tresses.

“Wanna go again, Ellie? Show ’em the goods?” my dad asked, breaking my hypnosis and absolutely demolishing my vibe. I couldn’t bear the idea of my father saying “Show ’em the goods,” and yet here we were.

“Nope. Not at all.” I shook my head like it was on a swivel and then bent down to put a ball on the rubber tee.

“Alright, well. Let us know if you need any tips on your swing, Dr. McCain,” Blair teased.

My dad chuckled, flicking the driver in his wrists. “Didn’t you need to borrow one of my balls the last time you played because of all the ones you lost over the summer? Oh, and speaking of balls, have yours dropped yet?” My dad’s grin lit him up like a firecracker.

Blair and Cameron doubled over with laughter, while Rory blushed. His lips twitched at the edges, and a hidden dimple appeared. I can only imagine what my face looked like when my dad dropped the testicle bomb. I diverted Rory’s quick glance like I was under attack on the battlefield.

“Make sure you don’t accidentally hit your old-man danglers instead of the ball, Dr. McCain,” Cameron shot back like a devil.

“Cameron Campbell!” My dad let out a belly laugh that rumbled through the tall evergreens. “Them’s fightin’ words.” It was clear my dad already loved these boys, whom I had never met before, and the feeling was mutual. He turned to me. “Stay away from these boys, Ellie, or you’ll be forever branded a traitor in our family. Got it?”

I looked over at Rory once more, and his dimple deepened. Everything inside me dropped to the pit of my stomach at the sight of his shy, downturned smile. My heart thunked. Just . . . thunk.

“Got it,” I said quietly. I brought my attention back to my mat as the boys finally made their way past us. I kept my head down but slowly raised my eyes.

Blair had ducked into an opening three stalls away, Cameron was beside him, and Rory placed his bag on the stand directly in front of mine in the next stall. He was left-handed. I was right-handed. He was facing me, and I was facing him, while we were about to hit balls in total and complete silence with nothing but a waist-high green wooden divider between us.

Settle down, Ellie. Just breathe. Hit the ball. He’ll sneak a peek, and there’s nothing you can do about it, so calm down and swing. Calm down and swing. Calm down, Ellie. CALM DOWN!

I took a deep breath, swung my three wood back, and—

SMACK!

I shanked it. I shanked it so badly that the ball didn’t fly out into the grass, it flew ninety degrees from where it was supposed to and directly in front of me, hitting the wooden divider that separated me from Rory.

Oh. My. God.

A woman at the end of the line cried out when the smack heard round the world rattled the tree line. I knew I was fire engine red, but when my dad chimed in with “You gotta hit the ball that way, honey,” and pointed out toward the range with his club, I thought I would combust.

I looked up to see Rory, looking down, holding back a smile as he dumped his bucket of balls into the tray in front of him. Blair and Cameron were both right-handed, so I could only see the backs of them, but their shoulders were shaking while they tried to suppress their laughter.