Free Cinderella Steals Home by Carly Syms Page B

"Then you don't care if we play the hard course, right?"  
    "Bring it."  
    He laughs. "Oh, it's on now."  
    I walk right up to the first tee and drop my purple ball onto the green. There are painted numbers on the sidewalk in front of the hole that indicate this round is a par 3. I vow to knock it in with just two strokes.  
    Suddenly, all I can do is think about beating Doan Riley.  
    I line my club up with the ball and carefully study the layout of the hole in front of me.  
    "Serious business," Doan jokes from behind me.  
    I spin around to look at him. "Hey now," I say with mock indignation. "I have a process here. You might be an asshole but I don't think you're the type of guy who wants to be known as a cheater at mini golf, too."  
    He flashes me an angelic, innocent smile. "Ah, you don't know me at all, Holls," he says. "But by all means, if you need perfect conditions to play your game, who am I to get in the way of that? I want to beat you at your best."  
    I shake my head and smirk, then go back to concentrating on the ball. One practice putt later and I hit the ball, angling it to swing around the curve in the course and hopefully dump right into the cup at the other end for a hole in one.  
    The ball hits the bump in the green just as I want it to but it rolls to the left of the cup and comes harmlessly to a stop near the hole; it's an easy putt but not my best play. I narrow my eyes.  
    "Not bad, not bad," Doan says, stepping up to the tee and dropping his pink ball onto the green. He hits it a second later, not bothering to line it up with the curve, and it predictably comes to a stop several feet away from the hole.  
    Good.
    He frowns slightly.  
    "What's the matter?" I ask him. "Didn't go as planned?"  
    He shoots me a look. "You ever hear of just playing for fun?"
    I pretend to think about this for a few seconds. "Nope," I reply. "I don't know what that means."  
    He shakes his head. "Figures."  
    I don't know if I like the way he says this, like we're suddenly not just teasing each other anymore.  
    "Something wrong?"  
    "Not at all." He nods in the direction of my ball. "Go make your putt."  
    I frown but I do like he says and tap the purple ball into the hole. "That's two for me," I say.
    Doan doesn't acknowledge my comment as he hits his ball toward the hole, but it goes well right of the cup and he lets out a frustrated sigh, and I can't keep the scowl off my face. I'm not sure what happened to upset him so much but I do know that I don't like it.  
    And that's almost as weird to me as his shift in attitude is.  
    He tosses his ball down onto the green and whacks at it. I'm not surprised when it doesn't end up anywhere near the hole.  
    I carefully place mine down and hit it with just as much precision as last time. It rolls around the lip of the cup once, then drops in for a hole-in-one. I smile and look at him, but he isn't meeting my eye.
    "Okay," I say at last, any teasing gone from my voice. "What's your deal?"  
    "Nothing. Let's just play."  
    I roll my eyes. "Obviously it isn't nothing."  
    He sighs. "No one ever taught you how to be a gracious winner, huh?"  
    I snap my head up. "What?"
    "Nothing. I just don't like sore winners."  
    "Uh, well, good," I say with a shrug. "Because I don't see any of those here."  
    He raises his eyebrows. "Oh, really?"  
    "Doan, what are you talking about? Sorry that I'm playing competitively, but that's just who I am."  
    "It isn't that," he says. "But the whole gloating thing when I botched the first shot? Come on, Holly."  
    "Are you kidding?"
    There's a funny faraway look on his face -- one that I've never seen him wear before -- like he's standing here with me but he isn't really with me , if you know what I mean.  
    Doan shakes his head quickly. "Sorry," he says, furrowing his brow. "Sorry. I just -- you reminded me a lot of my brother then. Sorry."  
    "The solider?" I ask.  
    He nods.
    "You miss him?"  
    Doan gives me a