The first thing Charlotte hears when she walks through the door of Amelia and Justin’s penthouse in the morning is deep throaty laughter. It wafts through the foyer and bounces off the walls and marble floors, brightening the already sunny foyer. She smiles as she hangs her coat on the rack next to the door, her ballet flats making a soft padding sound on the marble floor, wondering if she should wait or call out and announce her presence. A high girlish laugh joins the other and then the deep voice stops, a murmur of a male voice, questioning. Then the words boom into clarity.

“Charlie is that you?” Justin’s voice calls. She opens her mouth to respond but he continues. “If not and you’re a burglar, I’m about six foot five and can bench two-hundred fifty pounds and will kick your ass so turn and run now.”

“Justin!” Amelia exclaims with a giggle. “Don’t curse.”

Charlotte giggles, going around the right side of the staircase, following the long hallway towards the source of the voices. She is nearly blinded as she steps into the gleaming white kitchen, the morning sun making the already bright and airy room seem almost as if it were a light source in itself. Justin sits in one of the small wrought iron barstools, his lanky frame folded awkwardly into the delicate seat. His light gray suit jacket hangs on the back of the chair, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows as he shovels cereal into his mouth. Amelia stands out starkly in charcoal grey, her alabaster skin glowing and radiant, hair perfectly coiffed in an elegant French twist, her hand resting lightly on her fiancé’s shoulder.

“Good morning Charlotte,” Amelia says, smiling softly and Charlotte smiles back, moving to stand across the island from them.

“Morning Charlie!” Justin exclaims jovially and Charlotte smiles tensely, shifting on her feet.

They seem to be in ridiculously good moods this morning, Charlotte wonders what could have brought this on, watching Justin lean into Amelia, whispering something under his breath that Charlotte can’t quite hear. Amelia gasps, slapping his shoulder lightly and giggling, a sound Charlotte never thought could come from her.

“Stop that you,” she scolds lightly, grabbing for her bag that’s sitting on the kitchen island. “I’m going to be late for work and you’re going to be late for your fitting.” Justin makes a derisive sound in his throat and Amelia frowns. “You’ve been putting it off for weeks.”

“I know,” Justin grumbles, poking his cereal with his spoon. “I hate fittings.”

“Oh come on they aren’t that bad,” Amelia sighs, shoving papers in her bag and checking its contents.

“Oh really?” Justin asks, raising an eyebrow and turning slightly in his chair. “Tell me, would you like standing in the middle of a room in your underwear while some weird guy runs his hands up your legs.”

“Oh don’t be silly I let you do that all the time,” Amelia responds and then smirks, Justin narrows his eyes at her scowling playfully.

Charlotte’s eyes widen as she shifts uncomfortably. Innuendo is definitely something she never thought she’d hear from Amelia. It almost sounds foreign from her and then Charlotte realizes that she has once again forgotten that Amelia is not just her boss but an actual living breathing human being. A living breathing human being who has a very attractive fiancé. What? Charlotte’s eyes widen at the thought and two and two come crashing into four as it dawns on her. The giggles. The touching. The innuendo. She blushes, suddenly embarrassed at the thought, but more than embarrassed she’s intrigued. For some reason its hard to picture Amelia like that, as someone who has sex. Which is utterly ridiculous because anyone who’s with someone who looks like Justin is having sex. Okay she needs to get off this train of thought.

“Okay I’m gone,” Amelia says with a sigh, leaning to kiss Justin’s cheek softly and his eyes sink closed, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth upward. “Your fitting is at 8:30,” she pats his shoulder. He nods wearily as she turns to leave.

“Have fun,” Justin responds, reaching down to goose her as she shoulders her bag and she jumps, a soft squeal dying in her throat.

She smacks his arm again then pauses as if debating. She sighs. “Please don’t be late for your fitting.” She glances at Charlotte as she says this and Charlotte nods.

“I won’t. I won’t.” Justin grumbles, scooping more cereal in his mouth, milk dripping down his chin.

“Ugh Justin use a napkin,” Amelia scolds softly, handing him one from the stack in the porcelain holder in front of him. “What is that anyway? Frosted Flakes?”

Justin nods, taking the napkin from her and wiping his face before wadding it up and dropping it next to him on the counter, shoveling more food into his mouth. Amelia looks at him and his cereal disapprovingly before sighing.

“Okay Charlotte you’re in charge,” Amelia says airily and Justin looks up and narrows his eyes before sighing, seemingly letting it go and returning to his cereal. “Bye.”

“Bye,” Charlotte replies weakly and Justin merely waves as Amelia breezes easily out of the kitchen.

There’s an awkward silence left in her wake, Charlotte standing across the kitchen island from Justin, watching him finish his cereal. She just has to get through this week. She startles slightly at the thought. Justin isn’t a bad person to work for. He’s a nice break from Amelia actually. It’s just all those pesky undertones and the paranoia. Most of which, she’s almost positive, is all in her head. She watches as he heaves a sigh, chewing slowly as he gazes out the window thoughtfully.

Central Park sprawls out below, the brown and gray branches of trees making the normally vibrant park seem muddy and dull. Spots of white and gray dot the landscape on corners where snow has been piled and is melting to slush in the unusual warmness of the day. But even though the grass is mostly dead and the trees are bare, this little bit of nature looks like heaven amidst the concrete jungle as the first real sunlight in weeks shines dazzlingly on it.

“Nice day,” Justin says, resting his chin on his hand as he stares out the window, the morning sun dappling brightly through the window.

“Yep,” Charlotte says, eyeing his still half full cereal bowl and then her watch.

“Today would be a good day for golf,” he says off handedly, a goofy grin spreading across his face at the thought.

“I guess,” Charlotte responds. “You almost done? You’re gonna be late for your fitting.”

“How warm is it?” Justin asks as if he didn’t hear her at all and she blinks at him.

“I dunno… maybe forty…forty-five,” Charlotte says shrugging, shouldering her bag and hoping he gets the hint.

“Oh,” he says his face falling slightly as he ducks his head to spoon more cereal into his mouth. “Well let’s go I guess,” he sighs, standing so he can drop his half finished bowl into the sink.

“You sure? You can finish your breakfast,” Charlotte says, feeling a little bad for rushing him.

He shakes his head. “Nah, its fine. Let’s go get me molested,” he sighs, rolling his eyes.

Charlotte giggles despite herself, her hand a little late in coming up to suppress it. Justin looks at her slightly shocked and Charlotte looks away, her cheeks pinkening. She was still going for an unaffected air. Just because she was now relatively sure that he wasn’t trying to sleep with her didn’t mean she was going to be anything less than professional. Justin grins.

“Why Charlie…did you…did you just laugh?” Justin chuckles and she narrows her eyes at him, trying to force her lips into a frown but she can’t seem to keep the corners of her mouth from turning upward.

“No…no it was a cough,” she says clearing her throat and looking away, feigning disinterest. Banter can be professional right?

Justin beams at her for a second before situating his face into a look of mock seriousness. “Good…very good. I think you should definitely continue with the not laughing. It really accentuates the stick you have up your ass.”

He smirks as her jaw drops, watching as he snatches his jacket from the back of his chair and turns to traipse out of the kitchen, chuckling softly to himself. Charlotte snaps her mouth shut, scurrying after him, excitement curling in her stomach at the prospect of a sparring partner. The one thing she really missed from her old job was the sharp wit of her cube mates, the playful barbs slung back and forth over the little plastic walls separating their desks were the only thing to cure the terminal boredom.

He’s pulling on his heavy coat, grinning smugly to himself as he adjusts the collar. Charlotte sidles up next to him, reaching for her own coat.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe you’re just not funny?” she asks and as Justin looks at her the grin falls right off his face.

Charlotte smiles up at him but it fades quickly when she sees that he’s not smiling anymore. Her breathing hitches and panic settles in her gut. She sputters, searching for something to say. Was he angry? Surely with all the jokes he makes he can’t be angry. Had she hurt his feelings? She thought that it would take more than a little poke at his pride to hurt his feelings. After all he was engaged to Amelia. Oh god…was he going to tell Amelia?

He stares at her for a moment, blinking and then he shakes his head chuckling to himself. He takes her coat from her, which she had been clutching in a death grip and smiles widely at her holding it open. She looks at him uncertainly and he gives it a little shake, motioning her into it. She turns, threading her arms through the holes and shivering as he pulls the coat up over her shoulders. She jumps as he leans forward to speak softly in her ear.

“Nah I’m hilarious,” he says and then walks around her so that he’s facing her, an amused look on his face. “You just have no sense of humor.”

He turns toward the door opening it and he grins back at her, a challenge in his eyes. Let’s see how this goes, his eyes say and she swallows hard. Should she be taking this here? Is this considered flirting? She shakes her head and smiles, shoving the thought away. She can’t go through another day like yesterday, worrying about his motives and her signals and emotional undercurrents. She had spent the entire day on the verge of hyperventilation and she couldn’t spend the rest of the week like that. So she’ll take this as it comes. She’ll be herself…whatever that means.

The ride down the elevator was full of snide comments murmured out the side of their mouths, both testing how far the other could be pushed. Charlotte didn’t back down, taking Justin’s snark and adding a heavy dollop of her own. By the time they had reached the lobby they were nearly bursting from repressed laughter, Justin grinning so hard it almost hurt his face. But the playful mood is snuffed when they step outside, and Justin is so shocked by the warmth of the day he stops speaking. He takes a deep breath, the air not freezing his lungs like it had every day for the past few months and looks around the sunny street in a daze.

“Holy hell,” he mutters and Charlotte glances around, finding the town car a little ways down the curb. “Wait…wait,” Justin says when she starts walking towards it. “You lied to me.”

Charlotte looks at him bewildered. “What?”

“You said it was forty degrees, it’s gotta be almost sixty out here,” Justin says looking around, “God, today would be such a great day for golf.”

“Yep,” Charlotte says nodding and motioning towards the town car. “Come on you’re gonna be late for your fitting.”

Justin doesn’t move, standing in the middle of the street and looking around, his blue eyes squinting under the harsh glare of the morning sun. It’s almost a little warm for his heavy coat, the bright rays from the sun warming his skin in a way that hadn’t happened in months.

“Justin?” Charlotte questions, looking at him uncertainly. “We’ve got ten minutes to get across town.”

“Do me a favor,” Justin says and turns back towards the doors to the lobby, spotting the doorman and grinning. “Call them and cancel.”

Charlotte stares at him slack jawed. “Wha…you…I…” she stutters.

“Hey Ben!” Justin hollers and the man standing next to the door turns to him and smiles. “Hey man can you ring up and tell them to get my golf clubs from upstairs.”

“But…you…you have…” Charlotte stutters as he breezes past her towards the town car now nestled up to the curb.

“Hey Tony!” he hollers and bends down to stick his head through the now open passenger side window to speak with the driver.

Charlotte is dazed standing in the middle of the street as people brush past her silently. She digs frantically in her bag for his portfolio, hoping for some sort of guidance. It’s a foolish thought, for all the leather binder holds are his plans, which he seems to be hell bent on breaking. She looks up and both he and the car are gone. She gasps, looking from side to side, panic seizing her. She catches a glimpse of his curly head just as the hotel doors close on him and she fights her way through the morning crowd trying to follow.

The elevator doors are closing on him as she muscles her way inside, rushing a little less than casually through the large lobby, tapping her foot impatiently as she waits for the elevator to descend. On the ride back up to the penthouse she tries to formulate a plan. He can’t just blow off his schedule. He has meetings to go to and phone calls to make and emails to respond to. He has to be fitted for a tuxedo for his wedding for godsake!

“Justin?” she calls out weakly as she pushes the heavy oak door open, her voice echoing slightly against the marble in the foyer. All is quiet except for a vacuum running somewhere in the depths of the house. She could go look for him? But god there was no telling where to begin in a place like this.

Just then Justin appears to the left side of the staircase, adjusting the collar of his midnight blue polo at his neck. He’s shoving the hem in the waist of his khakis when he sees her standing there, caught like a deer in the headlights, no clue as of what to do.

“I told you to go ahead and wait downstairs,” he says situating the buckle of his belt and then raising his arms over his head to situate his shirt comfortably on his thin frame. “I was just changing. Can’t play golf in a suit.” He grins.

“Um…Justin?” Charlotte says delicately, fingers clutching the portfolio tightly. “You…you really need to stick to your schedule.”

“I don’t have a lot going on today. A couple meetings but you can just reschedule those,” he says, shrugging as he drops to one knee to tie his sneaker.

“But…but your tuxedo. You have the fitting,” Charlotte says and looks at her watch grimacing. “Which you’re now late for.”

“I told you to cancel that,” he says, frowning at the scuff on the toe of his shoe, rubbing it furiously with his thumb.

“Justin…” Charlotte sighs, shifting uncomfortably.

“I can do it tomorrow,” he says shrugging as he stands up again and Charlotte bites her lip, choosing her next words carefully.

“Um…A-Amelia seemed really…um…it seemed like it was really important to her that you do this…and…if you didn’t go…today... er…I think she would be really…um…”

“Pissed?” Justin supplies for her and Charlotte smiles tightly at him nodding. He nods sighing. “Don’t worry about that,” he grins stepping closer to her. “What Amelia doesn’t know won’t hurt us.”

He grins widely and Charlotte takes an immediate step backwards, panic trembling in her stomach. What the hell was that supposed to mean? As if sensing her unease he steps back as well, the smile sliding from his face into a look of perplexed uncertainty. She refuses to meet his eyes and it’s then that he decides that maybe he’s putting her in a bad position. She works for Amelia and asking her to keep his secrets wasn’t her job. He sighs looking around, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck.

“Okay what about this,” he says and Charlotte looks up at him her green eyes meeting his and he smiles despite himself. “what about we compromise?”

“Compromise?” Charlotte asks uneasily.

He nods. “I’ll go to the driving range instead of playing eighteen holes and we’ll be back in the office by ten,” he says and then frowns adding. “thirty. Ten-thirty.”

“What about your fitting?” she asks, chewing her bottom lip uncertainly and Justin sighs.

“Clear my entire schedule tomorrow and I will spend the entire day looking at tuxes,” he says rolling his eyes.

Charlotte looks at him uncertainly. “And you’ll tell Amelia?”

Justin nods, grinning widely. “I’ll tell Amelia.”

“Well…I guess that’s okay-”

“Of course it’s okay!” Justin grins, brushing past her to snatch his lightweight thermal jacket from the rack. “Now come on we’re wasting valuable tee time.”

“Um maybe I should just head to the office,” Charlotte says, thinking about all the rescheduling she would have to do.

“You can’t be stuck in an office on a day like this!” Justin exclaims and then opens the door, adding with a smirk, “And besides I need you to carry my clubs.”

Charlotte blinks at him before stepping out the door. “Well…okay…I guess I could do-”

“Charlotte,” he cuts her off laughing and she turns to look at him. “I’m not going to make you carry my clubs.” He shakes his head. “You were doing so well.”

She narrows her eyes. “It’s not my fault you’re not funny,” she deadpans stepping into the elevator and he grins.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m hilarious.”

The banter continues down the elevator and in the car, where Charlotte is so caught up in the intricate weaving of words she barely notices that they were leaving the city, tall skyscrapers giving way to thick trees along six lane express ways. After one particularly scathing remark that left Justin slightly speechless and scowling, Charlotte looks out the window smirking to herself and gasps when she sees nothing but trees and a long stretch of road in front of and behind them.

“What…where are we?” she asks and Justin glances out the window at a passing sign.

“Almost to Plainview. We’re nearly there,” he says shifting excitedly in his seat.

Charlotte’s eyes nearly explode out of her skull. “How long have we been driving?” She asks slightly alarmed, looking down at her watch. “IT’S NEARLY NINE-THIRTY!!!”

“Yeah…about that,” Justin says chuckling to himself. “I think we aren’t gonna be back to the office in time for that ten-thirty deadline. Better say we’ll be gone through lunch just to be safe.” He nods affirmatively.

“You…I…you lied to me.” Charlotte exclaims, scowling at him and he grins.

“Turn about is fair play,” he grins smarmily and Charlotte glares at him.

“Yeah because giving an accurate weather forecast is what I’m known for,” she replies, her voice dripping with sarcasm and he grins. “Who do I look like Al Roker?”

Justin squints at her. “You know come to mention it…”

She doesn’t speak to him for the rest of the ride, not really because she’s angry but more so because she’s nervous. Deviating from the schedule for a few hours was one thing. But taking the entire morning off to drive out to freaking Long Island to hit a few golf balls was utterly ridiculous. She could only imagine what Amelia would think…

What Amelia doesn’t know won’t hurt us.

His words echo in her head and she cringes. What Justin doesn’t seem to understand is Amelia always knows everything.

After a few twisting and turning lanes they find themselves driving towards a large brick building at the end of a cul de sac. As they pull around Charlotte sees men in polos and slacks shouldering golf clubs, a few walking in the socks with their cleats in their hands. Justin is out of the car before she can blink and she finds herself scrambling after him, barely catching him thanking Tony as he shoulders his clubs and looks around before heading towards the clubhouse. She nearly runs smack into him when he stops abruptly, setting his bag down outside the door before going inside.

Charlotte follows, looking around at the golfers that are coming and going. There’s a sign on the door that says the wearing of cleats inside is strictly prohibited. Most men are in their socks.

“You and the lady, sir?” Charlotte hears the man at the counter ask.

“yeah that’s fine,” Justin says, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out an old leather wallet that looks like its been run over several times with a tractor.

“Oh I’m not playing,” Charlotte says, stepping closer to him and Justin waves flippantly, handing the man behind the counter his money and getting his change.

“Driving range is down the sidewalk. Follow the arrows for the Black Course and you’ll run into it,” the clerk says, handing him two large buckets of golf balls and Justin nods, thanking him as he turns to go back outside.

Charlotte hurries after him watching him set the buckets down and shoulder his clubs easily again before bending his knees to grab both buckets. Charlotte reaches to take one but he shakes his head at her and looks around before heading east, gazing out across one of the courses that sprawls for miles before them. He sighs.

“Do you play golf?” he asks and Charlotte shakes her head. “Ever played before?”

“Not really,” she says then pauses, debating before adding. “I putt-putted when I was little.”

Justin smiles. “Miniature golf is very different.” He chuckles at his own joke and Charlotte smiles uncertainly.

They fall silent again, walking the sidewalk steadily, the relative quiet of the area making their silence somewhat awkward and Charlotte scrambles to fill the gap.

“Have you played here before?” she asks in what she hopes is a genial way, watching the bars of the black wrought iron fence separating them from the course pass by one after the other.

“Yeah,” Justin says nodding and doesn’t elaborate, just looks out onto the fairway they’re passing, watching a group of men try to drive their balls closer to the green

“Okay,” Charlotte replies awkwardly as they come to a sign bolted to the fence.

“WARNING” it reads. “The black course is an extremely difficult course which we only recommend for highly skilled golfers.”

“Did you play the Black Course?” she asks, raising an eyebrow as she turns back to read the last of the sign as they move on.

“Yeah…” he says, hiking his bag higher on his shoulder and then grinning at her. “I should have listened to the sign.”

When they finally reach the driving range Charlotte’s feet are aching slightly. Ballet flats were not made to be hiked in but she feels sheepish as Justin sidles up to an open bay, setting his buckets and bag down, stretching languidly as he looks out over the range. They seem to have the place to themselves aside from the one man on the very opposite end of the range. He glances at them and Justin raises a hand in acknowledgement, receiving a wave in return before going about his business.

Charlotte looks around and finds a bench to sit on a little ways back from the bays. She eyes the two large buckets, wondering just how many golf balls were in there and how long it would take him to get through them. She still couldn’t believe she was here, in Long Island, watching him tug his cleats and glove from the large pocket in his golf bag.

He walks over, shoving his glove in his back pocket, and flops down next to her, reaching down to pull off his sneakers, setting them gingerly next to him on the bench and she’s never seen a pair of tennis shoes so white in her life. He tugs on his cleats, tying the laces and adjusting the hem of his khakis over his socks before standing and looking down at them, wiggling his legs a little, picking his feet up and down and bouncing slightly. He nods as if this is all satisfactory and pads back to his golf bag, making a soft humming sound as he makes his selection. He pulls out a large driver, brushing his fingers against the head before hooking his foot against the edge of one of the buckets, knocking it over and sending balls rolling everywhere. This doesn’t seem to bother him much as he wrangles one closer with the head of his club, pushing it so it balances on the plastic tee.

Charlotte watches him as he looks out over the wide expanse of grass, large signs marking one hundred yards, one-fifty, two hundred, all they way up to four-fifty where the lake was winking back at them in the bright morning sun. He tugs on his golf glove, wiggling his fingers before gripping his club, concentrating on the ball. He bends his knees, wiggling a little as he eyes the horizon, giving a few small short swings, getting used to the club in his hands. Finally he swings back, his body twisting elegantly and with a soft whoosh he brings it down quickly, a loud TWHACK sounding as he makes contact and the little white ball goes sailing through the air, bouncing down around the two hundred yard line before coming to a stop.

He scoffs, bringing the club back behind his shoulder blades, curling his arms around it and stretching his back, turning this way and that by the waist. He sighs bringing the club back down again, retrieving another ball and beginning the process again. Charlotte sighs, really wishing she’d brought a book or something.

“So…” Justin says, drawing out the word as he prepares to take his shot. “Charlie…” He brings the club back and down quickly, sending another ball flying out onto the grass. “How old are you?”

Charlotte blinks at him, slightly confused. He’s not looking at her, watching as his ball rolls to a stop around the two-fifty sign and then scrunches his nose, shaking his head as he goes to get another ball. His eyes meet hers then, questioning, waiting.

“Um…twenty-four.”

He nods rolling his ball onto the tee. “When’s your birthday?”

She blinks again, cautious now. What’s he after? “September 28th.”

“So that makes you a Libra huh?” He wiggles and then rears back, sending the ball flying. THWACK!

Charlotte’s brows furrow in shock. “Yeah…how’d you-”

“Astrological signs interest me,” he shrugs, wrangling another ball onto the tee. “I bet you’re a great listener and love to help people.” THWACK!

Charlotte looks at him slightly astonished. “Um…yeah.”

They’re quiet for a moment as he lines up his next shot, Charlotte chewing her bottom lip nervously. She wondered what else he could tell about her from her astrological sign. She tried to think about what the traits were of a Libra. Okay, now she was being ridiculous. She shook her head and barely caught the end of what he was saying over the loud THWACK of him hitting another golf ball.

“I’m sorry what?” she asks, leaning forward and holding onto the edge of the bench for balance.

“I said that Amelia told me you were from Pennsylvania?” he says, a questioning lilt tacked on the end and Charlotte nods. “Where in Pennsylvania?” he asks reaching for another ball.

“Cannonsburg,” she says, watching another ball fly out over the grass.

“Were you born there?” THWACK!

Charlotte nods, still wondering where this was all going. “Born and raised.”

“Are your parents still there?” THWACK!

Charlotte shifts on the bench. “Yes.”

“Are they married?” THWACK!

“Yeah,” Charlotte says and smiles at the image of them in her minds eye, sitting together on the front porch, her father’s arm around her mother’s shoulders. “For a little over thirty years now.

Justin turns to look at her, stopping mid swing. “Wow that’s impressive.” Charlotte nods smiling. He turns back to his ball, preparing to start his swing again. “Any siblings?” THWACK!

Charlotte nods again. “Two older brothers.”

Justin looks back at her, eyeing her. “How much older?”

She screws up her face in thought, looking up at the metal awning over head. “Paul is twenty-eight and Isaac is…thirty? Yeah thirty.”

Justin smiles, wiggling a little as he prepares to swing again. “And where are they?” THWACK!

“Oh back home still,” she says, waving a hand dismissively and she suddenly feels strange. Why is he asking her all this?

“So where’d you go to college?” Justin asks, rolling another ball in front of him and lining up.

“NYU,” Charlotte replies, a little uncertain now. Why did he want to know these things?

“Why?” THWACK!

“Why what?” she asks, caught up in her own thought process as she wracks her brain for his motive.

“Why NYU?” he questions lightly, looking at her briefly before grabbing for another ball.

“What’s with the Spanish Inquisition?” she responds, chuckling slightly though there’s a nervous edge to it.

Justin stops mid swing and looks back at her. He grins sheepishly, releasing from his stance to rub the back of his neck.

“Sorry. I ask a lot of questions sometimes,” he says shrugging and then grins. “It drives Amelia crazy.” He chuckles. “I was just trying to get a feel for you. I’ll stop,” he says, crouching back into his stance.

“No…no it’s fine,” Charlotte says, feeling bad for asking. He was just curious. “I chose NYU because it has the Stern School of Business. Can’t get much better than that,” she replies shrugging indifferently.

He smiles.  “What was your major?” THWACK!

“Finance.”

He cringes. “Ugh why?”

She chuckles. “My dad thought it was a good idea.”

Justin turns to her, looking perplexed. “Why?”

Charlotte shrugs. “I’m good at math. He wanted me to have a white collar job.”

“Why?” THWACK!

Charlotte shifts uncomfortably. “He worked in a coalmine for twenty years. He wanted better for me…for us…for my brothers and I.”

“What do your brothers do?” Justin asks, walking over to his bag and exchanging his club for a different one.

“Paul is an insurance agent and Isaac is a police officer.”

Justin chuckles. “Good combination.” Charlotte nods. They’re quiet for a moment again, Justin taking more time to concentrate now that he’s switched clubs. He hits a few balls before his eyes flit back to Charlotte.

“What kind of music do you listen to?” he asks and Charlotte sighs, thinking.

“Older stuff lately,” she says, her brow furrowing at the realization. “The Eagles…Billy Joel…Elton John…” she trails rocking a little on the bench, the seat hard beneath her.

“Who’s your all time favorite musician?” THWACK!

Charlotte sighs. “Oh jeez....” she mutters, reaching up to scratch her head in thought.

“Probably Don Henley....or John Lennon...” She grins. “of course.”

Justin turns back to her sharing her grin. “Of course.” She blushes slightly. He turns back to his ball. “Why?”

“Why?” she asks, disbelief ringing in her voice. “Because…I like Don Henley’s voice…and the way he sings just…” she trails, sighing as she tries to find the right words.

“He’s very melodic,” Justin provides, wiggling a little before rearing back and letting the ball fly. Charlotte’s eyes widen as it sails passed the two hundred fifty yard marker. “And he has really smooth production.”

“Yes!” Charlotte exclaims. “Exactly.”

He turns to look at her. “And I assume you like John Lennon because-”

“He’s John Lennon,” they finish together and both chuckle at each other.

Their eyes meet and Charlotte feels a jolt go through her as he smiles at her, her stomach fluttering slightly. She likes Justin. There she admitted it. He’s a nice guy, charming and congenial. She could imagine them being friends. It’d been awhile since she had friends.

“What’s the last concert you went to?” he asks, rolling another golf ball onto his tee.

Charlotte chuckles. “Ozzfest.”

Her answer completely throws off his swing, the ball zooming low over the grass before rolling to a stop just behind the one hundred yard marker. He turns to her and finds her giggling slightly to herself. He blushes, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Now you went and messed up my swing,” he chuckles, grabbing another ball. “Ozzfest huh?” he asks eyeing her.

“Don’t ask,” she chuckles and he raises his eyebrows at her.

“Don’t ask huh?” he says, turning his head to her briefly before sending another ball flying out of the bay. “All right.” He eyes her again.

“Um…so…where’d you learn to swing like that?” she asks, turning the tables on him and he grins at her good naturedly.

“Lots and lots of practice.”

He chuckles to himself, sighing as he wrangles another ball onto the tee and squares up. He hasn’t even started on his next bucket yet. She glances at her watch. It’s about a quarter after ten. Amelia is going to have her head.

“Come here.”

Charlotte’s head snaps up and finds him standing back from his tee again, leaning on his club and gesturing her forward with one hand.

“No,” she chuckles and shakes her head. “No I’m good.” She waves her hand. “You go ahead.”

“Nah come here,” Justin says dismissively, gesturing her forward again. “I’ll teach you.”

Charlotte debates for a moment before standing cautiously and walking over, eyeing him uncertainly and he steps back as she takes the grip of the club, the leather soft against her palm. She jumps as he grips her biceps lightly, moving her into place in front of the tee and gasps as his arms go around her waist, moving to position her hands on the grip.

“Okay first you grip the club like this,” he says, maneuvering her fingers and it’s slightly uncomfortable, her wrists bent awkwardly. “Good,” he praises lightly, craning his neck so he can see over her shoulder. He smells clean, just soap and skin and Charlotte shakes her head to clear it. “Now, squeeze your arms tighter together,” he says, applying a light pressure with his own arms, causing her stomach to tremble at his embrace. Was this crossing some kind of line?

“Um…Justin?”

“Tighter,” he says, ignoring her protest and squeezing her again. He shakes his head. “No tighter. Like this.”

He steps back and moves in front of her, bringing his hands down and holding an imaginary club, his arms making a tight v across his chest. Charlotte looks down trying to do the same but her breasts won’t allow her arms to go any farther. She snorts. The one time her boobs are too big.

“Um…” she says, avoiding Justin’s patient gaze. “I can’t really.”

“Oh…” he says, a look of realization blooming across his face and his ears turn red.

“Yeah…forgot…guys don’t really have to deal with the whole breast issue.” He chuckles and Charlotte can’t help but grin at him, blushing slightly. He shakes his head and his face turns serious again. “Okay, now bring your arms back.”

He swings his imaginary club and Charlotte notes the shape of his body for reference before looking down at the club and drawing it back awkwardly. Justin grimaces.

“God no,” he mutters, pursing his lips and then sighing. “Here.” He steps behind her again, his arms going around her and she tenses, his rough warm hands covering hers. “Relax,” he chastises lightly and she tries to, her heart racing. “Okay now one fluid motion,” he says, urging her to swing back and she feels his hips press to hers as their bodies turn together, the intimacy of the new contact causing her to swallow hard, her stomach clenching nervously. He guides her in bringing the club back down slowly, his body bumping against hers as she turns unwillingly, her body unaccustomed to the motion. “Turn your hips more,” he advises as he brings her into the back swing again, and her body follows his as it moves behind her, feeling his breath as his chest expands and contracts at her back. “See that’s better!” he exclaims and Charlotte can’t help but smile. “But crouch your knees more,” he brings his hand to tap her thigh for emphasis and she tenses again but bends her knees “Yeah,” he says and she can feel him nodding behind her. She can’t help but feel proud. She’s starting to get this. “Your hair smells good.”

She nearly sends the club flying out of the bay. “Um…thanks.”

“Is that mint?” he questions and she feels his nose press just slightly against the side of her head, his chest expanding against her back as he inhales.

“Yeah,” Charlotte replies, swallowing the lump in her throat and she steps forward, turning to face him, putting the tee between them.

She watches him for a moment and he seems unaffected. It was merely an observation on his part. She sighs, cursing herself inwardly. He’s not trying to get in her pants. He’s just naturally this way. She thinks she’s finally starting to get that.

“I like it,” he says smiling easily. “Amelia always wears that flowery perfume.” He makes a face and Charlotte giggles.

“You don’t like it?”

Justin shakes his head, scrunching up his nose as if he’s sorry to say so.

Charlotte smirks. “Why?”

Justin laughs. “Because I don’t like floral scents.” He shrugs. “Come on,” he says motioning her back over the tee and moving out of the way. “Practice makes perfect.”

Charlotte nods, moving back into position, trying to remember everything he told her. Arms tight. Knees bent. One fluid motion. He stands across the tee from her, watching her appraisingly.

“Yeah turn your hips remember?” he says and Charlotte tries to. “And point your right toe when you follow through.” She follows his instruction, concentrating hard on the way her body feels, trying to remember how his looked when he did this, wondering if she’s even remotely close. “So, are you dating anyone?”

Charlotte stops mid swing, looking up at him bewildered. “What? No!”

He tilts his head to the side, confused. “Why?”

“Um…I…I dunno…” she shrugs, ducking her head and wiggling on her feet, trying to get her body in motion again.

“You wanna hit a ball?”

“No.” Charlotte says and smiles as she pulls herself back up into a regular position and her back aches. She hands him the club and moves out of the way.

“You sure? I’ll let you hit one,” he says, stepping back into position in front of the tee and falling easily into his stance. Charlotte envies his grace. She’d felt nothing but awkward when she held the club and he looked as if it were a part of his body.

“I’m fine really,” she insists, stepping back so he has enough room to swing.

“Are you interested in dating anyone?” Justin asks, rolling a ball onto the tee and this question shocks Charlotte nearly as much as the first one did.

“Not really, no,” she answers, crossing her arms over her chest, that creeping panic starting in her gut again.

“Why?” THWACK!

“Because I’m…” she pauses. Why wasn’t she interested in dating anyone? “I’m not really looking for a relationship right now.”

“Why?” THWACK!

“I…I dunno.”

“Did you just break up with someone?”  he asks gently, looking up at her sympathetically as he grabs another ball.

Charlotte smiles tightly. “No.” She pauses, thinking. “Not really,” she pauses again and sighs. “It was awhile ago.”

“Was it serious?” he asks lightly, eyeing the horizon and wiggling slightly.

“Not really,” Charlotte shrugs because it wasn’t. Casual dating turned into casual monogamy turned into a casual parting of ways. An utter waste of six months of her life.

“Has there ever been anybody serious?”

Charlotte shrugs. “I dunno,” she replies easily, then smiles. “Do you count high school?”

Justin chuckles. “Sure, why not?”

“Then yes.” Charlotte says nodding, humor lacing her words. “Or I thought it was back then. We went to PROM together don't you know?” She giggles at the memories, at her own teenage foolishness.

Justin laughs openly. “What was his name?” THWACK!

“Mackanerny Paige,” she says and then bursts out laughing as he looks up at her with an eyebrow raised. It was kind of a ridiculous name. “We all called him Mack.”

Justin chuckles too.  “Geez, I'd go by Mack too...” THWACK! “So what happened? He break your heart or did you break his?

Charlotte shifts. “It was...amicable...sort of.”

Justin gives her a look. “You broke the poor kid’s heart didn’t you?” He grins and Charlotte blushes.

“I went off to school and he didn't like that too much...so he tried to date my friends to make me jealous,” she rolled her eyes then smile. “He married one of them.” She chuckles.

“It all works out in the end I guess,” he grins, bringing the club up and examining the head for a moment before dropping it back down. “So where’d you fit in high school anyway?” THWACK!

“I was on Math Team,” she says, giving him a pointed look. “Guess.”

He bursts out laughing. “Please tell me you were in the chess club too.”

“Shut up I was good at math,” she glares and he grins at her. “We won state my junior AND senior year which is more than I can say for our football OR basketball team.” She sniffs jutting her chin out defiantly.

Justin smirks. “And the chess club?”

Charlotte narrows her eyes. “We didn't HAVE a chess club.”

“But you would have been on the team right?” He grins.

“No!” Charlotte exclaims, glaring but it fades. “....maybe...shut up!”

Justin bursts out laughing again and Charlotte can’t help but grin too at the throaty sound. He’s got a great laugh.

“Were there horn-rimmed glasses too?” THWACK!

Charlotte purses her lips. “No I have PERFECT vision thank you very much.”

Justin eyes her as he retrieves another ball. “Braces?”

She shifts. “Yes braces...but I never wore my retainer so they shifted a little.” She brings up her hand to rub her front tooth discreetly.

 “Please god tell me there are pictures,” Justin teases lightly, dragging another ball to the tee.

Charlotte scoffs. “I was TWELVE!!!”

He chuckles, “so there ARE pictures?” THWACK!

“None that YOU'LL ever see,” Charlotte replies smarmily and relishes in his frown.

“Aw come on...”

She can’t fight the laugh in her throat. “They're in PENNSYLVANIA!”

Justin looks up from his ball, barely containing his grin. “What and they don’t have a post office in Pennsylvania?”

Charlotte narrows her eyes. “My mother loves me and wouldn't do that to me.”

“Even if YOU asked her to send them?” THWACK!

Charlotte grins. “Now why would I do that?”

“Because your boss told you to.” THWACK!

“You're not my boss.” Charlotte smirks and Justin’s head shoots up, eyeing her.

“I am your boss adjacent,” he smirks.

“You don't sign my checks,” Charlotte challenges, nodding authoritatively. He grins.

“Yeah but I sleep with the one who does,” he replies and Charlotte’s eyes go wide, a gasp tearing from her throat at his daring and he laughs at her shock.

She is saved from a reply by the ringing of a phone and she looks around, wondering for a moment if it’s hers but then she realizes it’s not her jazzy polka-like ringtone. Justin jumps, pressing his palm to the top of his club, pinning it to the ground as one hand delves into the pocket of his khakis. He produces a small silver cell phone that is ringing shrilly, an actual ring. How conventional, Charlotte thinks, watching him grimace as he flips it open.

“Hey puddin’” He exclaims jovially and Charlotte has to clench her jaw to keep from laughing at the sickly sweet term of endearment.

But it dies quickly as she hears Amelia’s shrill voice on the other line, Charlotte’s stomach dropping. She sounds pissed. Justin cringes, holding the phone a little ways from his ear, listening to Amelia shriek about him canceling his appointment, finishing with a demand of his whereabouts.

“Well I’m at the driving range right now,” he says and Charlotte cringes at the silence that follows his statement. “Babe?” he questions and pulls the phone from his ear, looking to see if he dropped the call.

Charlotte hears Amelia’s voice, low and menacing but doesn’t catch the words and Justin brings the phone back to his ear quickly to catch it. Justin’s face turns grim and he nods, pressing his lips together like a chastised child.

“Yes dear,” he says softly, flipping the phone shut and sighing and turning to Charlotte wearily. “Play time is over.”