Chapter 21
Marco smiled. "Of course."
I looked at him. "No, Marco. Jesus, you're supposed to say no."
He seemed confused. "What? Why?"
I groaned and let my head fall back. We were on the way to the lodge. He said he wanted to do something, but he wouldn't tell me what it was. Let me just say that he wasn't ticklish. At all. It was awkward for both of us.
"Because they're embarrassing."
He laughed at me. "They aren't that bad. I've already met them before."
"Right, so you don't have to do it again." Our arms brushed together as we walked. It wasn't like sparks flew or some shit like that, but it was nice.
"What are you so worried about? Nothing's gonna happen."
I leaned over and kissed the side of his neck. He jumped up and whirled around in surprise. I couldn't help but laugh at the look on his face. I moved ahead to hold the door open for him with a flourish. He smiled and bowed at me before going in. Inside, he went to the side of the desk and pulled down two putters and two golf balls.
I raised an eyebrow at him. "I suck at mini golf, just so you know."
"I suck too." His face was serious. "We can suck together." I started grinning. He looked confused for the second time this morning. He still had a baby face the second time around too. "What? Was it something I said?"
"Yeah. You said that we could suck together."
It took him a moment, but his face went blank and dubious to full on, hardcore blushing in .3 seconds. "Jean! I didn't... That's not... Th-that wasn't what I meant!"
"Uh huh. Oh, sure. I know what you meant. Good old 69." I winked seductively at him for effect. Somehow he managed to blush even more furiously.
"Now I am gonna go to your cabin tonight for making fun of me." He started to mock pout. It made him look like he had a baby face. Again.
I tapped his nose. "Fine." I grabbed his hand and started tugging him outside. "Come on. Loser buys the winner an ice cream cone." I winked at him again, but this time it was in a teasing way.
He smiled at me, but something was off about it. "Deal."
"You okay?"
He tilted his head. "Fine. Why?"
I squished his cheeks with my fingers. He had a major baby face again. God, what with him and managing to look so adorable? His lips were pursed. He reached up and wrapped his hands around my palms, but didn't pull my hands down. "Your eye is acting up again," I said. It wasn't a question.
He shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, but he still looked like a kid that got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "I'm fine. You don't have to worry." His words came out awkwardly from the way his face was squished.
I bit my lip, but let it--and my hands--drop. When we got to the street, I pushed him ahead of me. He turned around to look at me with a question in his eyes. "We are not having a repeat of earlier this week," I told him.
He looked down and laughed sheepishly. "Yeah, sorry about that..."
I stood on his right side and grabbed his hand once we were across the street, so he could see his surroundings on his other side. "You can tell me if you're having any issues, you know. I may not be able to help very much, but I'll listen and do what I can."
He squeezed my hand. "I know, I just don't like to make you worry, that's all."
I squeezed back. "I'm not gonna tell you some lie like, 'I'll worry more if you don't tell me,' because we both know that I'm not gonna know if you don't tell me. But I would definitely prefer it if you told me, so I could help you."
He seemed to think about it for a moment before he opened his hand and pushed his fingers between mine. "Okay. I'll make sure to remember that."
It didn't take long to get to the course. There were ten holes, and they were arranged so that the beginnings formed a circle with picnic benches inside. The holes weren't numbered, so we just picked one to start with.
I really did suck at mini golf, but I tried to suck even more. I knew that I'd feel bad if he had to pay for my cone. He had trouble with his vision most of the time, so I made sure to keep an eye on him--no pun intended.
We had a really fun time. We both cracked jokes at how bad we were, and we were so bad that it took us over a half hour to get through just ten holes. Professional golf was definitely not in my future.
I clapped Marco on the back when we finished the last hole. "What kind of ice cream do you want?" His score was 42. Mine was 57.
His eyes were wider than normal. "You don't have to do that. I can get my own."
I raised an eyebrow. "I am buying you an ice cream," I said firmly. "We made a deal, and you have to follow through."
He smiled. "Aren't I supposed to tell you to follow through?"
"It should be, but you'd never say it."
"Yeah, I know." He smiled for the millionth time today. I found that it was still as interesting and wonderful as the first time he smiled at me, but now, it was familiar.
We started heading back to the lodge. That was also becoming familiar. It had only been four or five days, but I quickly grew accustomed to the nice Minnesota weather and lake swimming. I sighed internally. I was really going to miss this place when we had to leave. The reception may have been shitty, and I may have been getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, but it really was a nice resort.
"Do you really think we have any chance of finding out what happened to Hanna?" Marco asked, shaking me from my thoughts.
I sighed. "I have no idea. I hope we do, and if we don't, I hope the authorities do." I shook my head. I couldn't imagine coming here and getting murdered. Totally not the way I would want to spend my summer, I thought, then felt bad because she was fucking dead.
He made a noise in agreement. "Do you think this person will try to come after anybody else?" Worry laced his voice.
I bit my lip. "I don't think so," I began slowly. "They said that she snuck out in the middle of the lake and went to the other side of the lake." My mouth started to dry just thinking about how something like that could've happened to us the other night. "We know that she was a girl that stayed at this resort. I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure I have a Y chromosome."
I looked over at Marco to find him staring at something with the strangest look on his face: jaw slack, raised eyebrows, wide eyes. He was pale, and it made his freckles stand out. I looked in the direction he was staring. All I saw were a couple bushes that were rustling in the breeze. Feeling a knot in my stomach from the way he was acting, I grabbed his hand. It was clammy.
"Marco?"
He didn't respond.
I raised my free hand to his face and brushed the backs of my fingers against his cheek. "Hey, Marco. Are you okay? What's wrong?"
He blinked several times and looked at me. "Hm?"
I furrowed my eyebrows in concern. "You were spacing out."
"Oh. Sorry, I just thought I saw something." He smiled, but it didn't seem quite... right. It felt like it was forced or like it was hiding something.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not into sharing my whole life story with a person I've known for less than a week--we all have secrets--but I could tell that something was wrong. I was torn between wanting to pry and wanting to let him tell me when he was ready, if he was ever going to be ready.
In the end, I let it go. If it was something that he wanted to tell me, he hopefully would, but until then, I was going to let him be.
* * *
I didn't know it at the time, but I should've asked him about it. I should've made him tell me.
* * *
The end! Just kidding. All day I've been telling myself, "I have to update. I have to write. I have to do something." I actually did, as you can see.
It took me a while to get done since I've been nursing my toe. I was walking when I slid on mud. My flip flop bent under and half of my toenail came off. Yay. I'll spare you the details.
--Shelby